#i can sometimes snap myself out of it and make myself laugh and not take myself so seriously anymore

[sm-writes-chaos]

my ocs really are just facets of myself holy ezerk

[13eyond13]

.

[pucksandpower]

Good Girl

Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader

Summary: Max wants to take care of you in every way possible, so you let him (much to your father’s displeasure)

Warnings: 18+ content

The muffled sound of raised voices catches Max’s attention as he walks past the back of the Mercedes motorhome. He slows his pace, straining to make out the words.

One of the voices unmistakably belongs to the Austrian team principal but the other is higher-pitched … feminine. Max’s curiosity is piqued as a snippet of the argument reaches his ears.

“But I hate it, Papa! I’m miserable!”

He knows that voice, even though it is now fraught with anguish. Max stops in his tracks, hesitating. He knows he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but his concern for you overrides his better judgment.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Liebchen,” Toto Wolff’s gruff tones reach Max’s ears. “This is for your own good. You need to finish your degree and make something of yourself.”

“I don’t want to make something of myself!” You cry out, your words laced with despair. “I just want to be happy!”

Max’s heart clenches at the pain in your voice. He’s never seen you anything less than perfectly composed, always carrying yourself with the poise expected of a team principal’s daughter. To hear you so distraught tugs at something deep inside him.

“Don’t be absurd,” Toto scoffs. “Happiness doesn’t come from idleness. It comes from hard work and achievement.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just marry rich then!” You retort, defiance tingeing your tone.

A surprised laugh bursts from Toto. “Is that what you think? That some wealthy man will sweep you off your feet and give you everything your heart desires?”

“Why not?” You sound small and vulnerable now. “At least then I wouldn’t be so miserable all the time.”

“I didn’t raise you to be some man’s ornament,” Toto snaps, his voice taking on a hard edge. “You’re my daughter — strong, intelligent, and capable. Finish your studies and make your own success. That’s an order.”

There’s a bitter silence, and Max can picture the imperious set of Toto’s jaw, the fire in his eyes when he’s crossed. He feels for you, truly, but he also knows how stubborn and uncompromising your father can be.

You sniffle, and Max’s heart twists imagining your lovely face crumpled with tears. “I … I can’t, Papa. I just can’t do it anymore.”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Toto’s voice is like a clap of thunder, making Max flinch. “I’ll hear no more. Get it together, Y/N. That’s final.”

There’s a flurry of footsteps, and Max instinctively steps back into the shadows as Toto storms out from behind the motorhome, his expression thunderous. He brushes past without sparing Max a glance.

Only you remain, your soft cries tearing at Max’s soul. Before he can overthink it, he rounds the corner towards you.

You’re a vision even with your eyes reddened and cheeks stained with tears. Max has admired you from afar for years, secretly yearning for more than your warm smiles and friendly small talk. Seeing you so undone breaks his heart.

“Y/N?” He murmurs, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. You jump, gasping at his sudden presence. “I … I couldn’t help overhearing.”

Heat floods your cheeks as you hurriedly wipe at your face. “M-Max? I … you shouldn’t have ...”

“Hey, it’s alright.” His thumb strokes your shoulder in a soothing gesture. “I’ve been there too — feeling crushed under the weight of expectations. It’s okay not to be okay sometimes.”

You shake your head, a watery laugh escaping you. “You don’t understand. My father, he’s … it’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it for me,” Max says simply, holding your gaze. “Let me take you to dinner tonight. Get your mind off everything for a little while.”

Your eyes widen, and you nibble at your full lower lip — a gesture Max finds utterly captivating. “Oh, I … I couldn’t. Papa would be furious if he found out.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” The words slip out before Max can reconsider their forwardness. Heat prickles at the back of his neck, but he refuses to look away. “Just take a night for yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”

You worry at your lip, internal conflict playing out on your expressive features. Max can practically see the warring thoughts flitting through your mind.

“Please,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck an errant curl behind your ear. Your breath catches at the gentle contact. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

Something sparks in your eyes — acceptance, resignation … or perhaps a hint of excitement? Max couldn’t say. But when you nod, his heart stutters in his chest.

“Okay,” you whisper, sending Max’s pulse racing. “I’d like that.”

A slow smile curves his lips. “Perfect. I’ll pick you up outside your hotel at 8 tonight.” He takes a chance, reaching up to trace the line of your jaw with his knuckles. “Wear something pretty for me?”

The corner of your mouth ticks up in a small grin, and Max feels like he could float away at the sight. “It’s a date.”

With a dimpled wink and a last caress of your silken cheek, Max turns and saunters away, already counting down the hours until he can sweep you off your feet — however briefly. He only hopes one night in his company provides a respite from the burdens weighing you down.

You watch Max stride away, a curious fluttering taking wing in your stomach. Despite the turmoil still lingering from your fight with your father, you can’t deny the thrill that courses through you at Max’s tender attention.

There was a heat in his eyes that had your breath catching — a scorching intensity you’ve never noticed from him before. Like he was seeing all of you, the pain and insecurities you typically hide from the world, and accepting it all without judgment.

His gentle touches had set your skin tingling, leaving you flushed and flustered in a way you’re unaccustomed to. You can’t remember the last time someone looked at you the way Max did — like the weight of all his focus was centered on you alone, searing into your very soul.

Despite the circumstances, you find yourself unexpectedly … excited for tonight. To temporarily shed the burdens your father is so intent on piling onto your shoulders. To let someone else take the lead for once, absolving you of responsibility and expectations.

To let Max take care of you.

The thought sends a delicious shiver down your spine. Allowing yourself a moment of selfishness, of disregarding your father’s disapproval, you relish the delicious sense of anticipation unfurling within you.

For once, you think as you head inside to prepare yourself for your clandestine date, you’re going to indulge your own desires — if only for a few hours. Your father may call it idleness, but you call it sanity.

And if Max’s heated gaze is any indication, he seems more than happy to oblige you.

***

Precisely at 8 PM, Max idles his sleek Valkyrie hypercar outside your hotel’s entrance, eagerly scanning the revolving doors. He doesn’t have to wait long before you emerge, and the sight of you has his breath catching in his throat.

You’ve opted for a slim-fitting cocktail dress in a deep burgundy hue that clings to your curves in all the right places. The plunging neckline and thigh-grazing hemline leave just enough to Max’s imagination, stoking a slow burn of desire low in his belly. Your hair tumbles in artful waves over one shoulder, and you’ve accentuated your lips with a sultry red stain that makes Max’s mouth go dry.

He barely registers popping the passenger door and rounding the car until he’s standing before you, drinking in every delicious detail from your smoky eye makeup to the skyscraper heels lending those gorgeous legs an endless line.

“Y/N,” he rasps out, voice thick with undisguised appreciation. “You look … incredible.”

A becoming flush steals across your cheeks at the naked admiration in his tone. Ducking your head shyly, you murmur, “Thank you, Max. I wasn’t sure if this was too much or ...”

“Not at all,” he cuts you off firmly, unable to tear his hungry stare away from you. “You’re stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

Offering his arm, he escorts you to the car and helps you inside before joining you in the driver’s seat. As he pulls away, he has to force himself to keep his eyes trained on the road rather than drifting hungrily over every dip and swell of your body.

Max selects one of the finest restaurants in the city — an intimate establishment where the lighting is dim and romantic. The maitre d’ leads you to a secluded table in the back, discreetly ensuring your privacy.

Once seated across from you, Max can’t resist reaching across the table to take your hand, marveling at how tiny and delicate your fingers feel engulfed in his calloused grip. It’s a heady sensation, being so close and allowed to touch.

One he wants more of.

You go to take a leather-bound menu with a shy smile, but Max simply slides it aside and shakes his head.

“Don’t strain yourself tonight, schatje,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “Let me take care of everything.”

Surprise flits across your lovely features, but then understanding and gratitude replace it as you nod mutely. He can sense the relief in you at being temporarily absolved of responsibility, even over something as simple as choosing your meal.

A subtle tilt of his head summons the waiter, and Max orders a selection of the finest dishes and robust wine for you to share — decadent fare perfectly suited to indulging your every whim this evening.

As the waiter departs, Max leans back and simply drinks you in, admiring the elegant line of your neck and curve of your jaw. You seem to bask under his appreciative scrutiny, almost … preening for him. It’s utterly intoxicating.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” He asks lowly, searching your face. “After everything with your father earlier ...”

Your eyes shutter briefly at the mention of Toto, but you regain your equilibrium swiftly and offer Max a patently forced smile. “I’m alright. Just … trying not to think about it too hard tonight.”

“Good.” He strokes his thumb over your knuckles soothingly. “Because tonight is about forgetting all your cares and letting someone else handle everything for once.”

The promise in his words has your pulse fluttering wildly in your veins. You know you shouldn’t indulge this … whatever this is … with Max. That it could court disastrous consequences. But there’s something about him — about the way he looks at you, touches you, and speaks to you — that just saps your will to resist.

Perhaps it’s the bone-deep weariness you’ve been carrying from your ongoing battles with your father. Or the guilty craving you haven’t allowed yourself to admit to — the need to simply surrender control for once and let someone else bear the burdens weighing you down.

Whatever it is, you find it impossible not to fall headlong into the solace Max is offering so freely.

The waiter reappears with a bottle of bold Cabernet, carefully filling your glass before departing again. Max lifts his in a silent toast, and you mimic the gesture, reveling in the rich notes that flood your senses.

From there, the evening slips into a blissful cocoon of easy conversation and succulent food that Max deftly applies himself to serving you bite by bite. Each time his long fingers brush your lips as you accept a morsel, a frisson of electricity zips through you.

He pays immaculate attention to your smallest reactions, quickly discerning your preferences even before you voice them. It’s uncanny — and utterly disarming — how seamlessly Max seems to anticipate your every need without fuss or demand.

You can’t recall the last time you felt so … cherished. So indulged and seen. Like Max’s entire world revolves around you and you alone in these stolen moments.

It’s heady and intoxicating, this total surrender of control. And as the hours wind down over lingering sips of wine and heated looks, you find yourself all but drunk on the experience … on Max.

Eventually, once the dining room has emptied and the candles burned low, Max summons the waiter to settle the check with an imperious wave of his hand. He declines your attempts to assist, fixing you with a look that brooks no argument.

“Tonight is my treat,” he says simply, dropping a small fortune onto the tray with a casual air. “I’m not done taking care of you yet, schatje.”

A delicious shiver races down your spine at his words, your thoughts growing hazy and unfocused under the scorching weight of his stare. You can only nod numbly, incapable of voicing even token protest.

Pushing back from the table, Max rounds it in two long strides and pulls you to your feet, linking hands with yours. He holds your gaze as he brushes a kiss across your knuckles, letting his lips linger in a way that has heat pooling low in your belly.

“Back to my hotel?” He husks, voice gone rough in a way that steals your breath. “Or shall I take you home, printsesse?”

For a long, dizzying moment, the two of you simply stare into each other’s eyes, the intimate moment stretched taut like a tightrope. Then, as if in a trance, you find yourself shaking your head slowly.

“Your hotel,” you whisper before you can reconsider. It’s utterly mad, this reckless pull you’re surrendering to. But God help you, you can’t bring yourself to care.

A slow, heated smile curves Max’s lips as he nods sharply. Without a word, he tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow and escorts you from the restaurant.

You move almost in a fugue state, allowing Max to lead you with a surety you envy as he bundles you into his gleaming sports car once more. The ride to his hotel passes in a blur, punctuated only by the possessive weight of Max’s palm on your thigh and the fevered glances he keeps sending you from the driver’s seat.

By the time the valet has whisked his car away, all you can clearly process is the burn of Max’s fingers tangled with yours and the thrumming weight of his presence at your side. Everything else — anxiety, obligation, expectation — fades into insignificance under his piercing gaze.

He tugs you into the shadows of the hotel atrium and crowds you against a corner, his free hand coming up to trace the line of your jaw reverently. You go pliant against the hard plane of his chest, tilting your head back to maintain the searing lock of your gazes.

“Still with me, Y/N?” Max rumbles, the rough velvet of his voice sending sparks of need ricocheting through you.

You nod slowly, unconsciously wetting your lips — an action which has Max’s eyes riveting on your mouth hungrily. “Yes, Max. I’m here.”

His thumb brushes over the fullness of your lower lip with maddening tenderness. “Good girl.”

Those two words should not affect you the way they do — like a punch to the gut, stealing your breath while simultaneously stoking a raging inferno within. You can’t even begin to process the riot of sensations they provoke.

You simply let yourself be swept away in the wake of Max’s intensity, melting into the solid shelter of his embrace as he claims your mouth in a devouring kiss.

Max’s kiss quickly grows fevered and consuming, his tongue delving hungrily to explore the honeyed depths of your mouth. You melt against him, fingers clutching at the hard planes of his back as you surrender to the dizzying haze of desire he’s stoked within you.

He walks you backwards without breaking the molten seal of your lips, until your back meets the wall with a muffled thump. Emboldened by your soft whimper, Max pins you there with the solid weight of his body, hips tilting into yours as his hands roam feverishly over your curves.

You’re drowning, overwhelmed by the potent storm of Max’s passion. It sweeps away every stray thought, every lingering worry about duty and obligation, leaving you delirious and pliant in his arms. All that exists is the scorching brand of his mouth, the iron strength of his embrace, and the maddening friction of him pressing you into the unforgiving wall.

It’s everything and nothing like you imagined. More intense, more explosive, more overwhelming in its ability to strip away every pretense and doubt until there’s nothing left but raw need.

Max finally releases your lips with a ragged groan, pressing his brow to yours as you both gulp down air in harsh pants. His palms smooth over your hips, up your sides, cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin material of your dress.

“God, printsesse,” he rasps, voice wrecked in a way that has you clenching with fresh desire. “You’re so fucking perfect, do you know that?”

You can only whimper, thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind as he ducks to mouth wet, open kisses along the column of your throat. Every brush of his lips is like a brand, searing into your very core.

“And tonight ...” Another nip at your racing pulse has you arching shamelessly into him. “Tonight you’re mine. All mine.”

His hands slide beneath the hem of your skirt, bunching it around your waist as his fingers trace the lace edges of your stockings. You keen softly at the electric jolt of sensation, nails scoring down his shoulders and back.

“Max ...”

“Shhh, schatje ...” His tongue laves at the hollow of your throat, lips trailing a heated path up the line of your jaw until he’s devouring you again. The demanding sweep of his tongue robs you of breath, of thought, of everything but the exquisite present of his touch. “Just let go. No thinking. I’ll take care of everything.”

His words are like a mantra, a siren’s call urging you to surrender utterly to the exhilarating oblivion he offers. To shed every burden and float away on the current of his undivided devotion.

So you do. With a broken whimper, you sag in his arms, giving yourself over completely to Max’s intoxicating command. The doors of your suite can’t come soon enough.

Max can barely keep his hands off you during the agonizing elevator ride up to his penthouse. As soon as the doors close, cutting you off from prying eyes, he has you pinned against the mirrored wall, hands roaming feverishly over your body.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he rasps against the slick column of your throat. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of this. Of having you.”

You whimper shamelessly as his teeth graze the thundering pulse under your jaw, hips rocking helplessly against his muscled thigh that’s wedged between your legs. The delicious friction has sparks of pleasure-pain arcing through your nerves in dizzying waves.

With deft motions borne of practiced skill, Max strips you of your dress, leaving you clad in only a scrap of wine-colored lace before lifting you easily. You lock your legs around his narrow hips as he mouths hungry kisses along the swell of your chest, callused palms kneading the generous curve of your backside.

The elevator judders to a halt and the doors slide open, but neither of you pay it any mind. Max simply shifts you higher in his arms and carries you down the hallway, your shared gasps and muffled groans echoing off the plush carpets and paneled walls.

Finally, he’s nudging open the door to his suite with his shoulder, barely waiting for it to click shut again before slamming you against the nearest surface. You scarcely register that it’s a sturdy oak desk before Max is divesting you of the remaining flimsy barriers between your bodies with sharp tugs and deft fingers.

He stands you before him, towering and scorching with building intensity as his gaze tracks from your flushed face down to where your thighs are already starting to grow slick in anticipation. A punched-out groan tears from his chest.

“Fuck, printsesse,” he growls, palming the rigid length straining against his slacks as he drinks in the sight of you laid bare before him. “So fucking gorgeous. Made for me.”

With a sharp nip of his teeth against the swell of your breast, he urges you back until you’re bent over the desk’s edge. Cool wood presses against the heated flesh of your belly and breasts, making you gasp.

“Max ...” you keen, reaching for him with shaking hands.

But he bats them away with a low rumble, pinning your wrists against the desks’ burnished surface. His lips scald a path down your spine as he looms over you from behind, thick cockhead prodding teasingly at your entrance.

“So responsive, schatje" he praises in a gravelly rasp, free hand gliding down to pluck at your engorged nipples. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you?”

You can only whine wordlessly, squirming against the delicious torture of his touch as he takes his time mapping every dip and swell of your body. Marking you as his own by searing himself into your senses through each languid caress.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of exquisite torment, Max sheaths himself in one powerful thrust that punches the air from your lungs. He stills for a long moment, buried to the hilt, broad chest plastered to your back as you both shudder and gasp for air.

“Max … oh fuck, Max please ...”

With an animalistic growl, he complies — withdrawing nearly all the way before snapping his hips in a punishing grind that has your nails scoring the desk’s glossy veneer and guttural cries tearing from your throat.

From there, it’s a haze of sweat-slicked skin and desperate keens, of Max taking you apart with lavish, calculating precision. He’s utterly relentless, wringing every ounce of pleasure from your joined bodies until you’re hovering in a blissful state of oblivion.

It’s everything and yet not enough all at once. You’re ruined for anyone else, forever branded by his ferocious intensity. You’re addicted to the escape he offers from your doubts and burdens.

And as Max’s harsh grunts and increasingly erratic thrusts signal his impending release, you welcome the sweeping wave of darkness that accompanies your own shattering climax.

You’re his now. Utterly and completely. And you’ve never felt so free.

Later, with the tangled sheets pooled around your waists, Max gathers you close and strokes idle patterns over your flushed, sweat-slicked skin. Sated and boneless in the aftermath of his lovemaking, you curl into the strong circle of his embrace with a contented sigh.

Idly, Max’s fingers trail through your tousled locks, nails scraping lightly over your scalp in a way that tingles with delicious sensation. You make a soft sound of pleasure, earning a rumbling chuckle from deep in his chest as he presses a kiss to your brow.

“Feel better, printsesse?” He murmurs, voice a low rasp that strokes over you like velvet.

You manage a lazy nod, humming into the heated dip of his throat as you nuzzle closer. “Much better. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, schatje. Truly.”

You lapse into a comfortable silence, savoring the steady thud of his heartbeat under your ear and the soothing drag of his fingertips over your skin. For the first time in ages, your thoughts are utterly quiet, every worry burned away by the man beside you.

It’s like floating in a warm sea, cradled and buoyed by Max’s strength and devotion. Every breath comes easier, your soul unburdened and free in a way you can’t recall experiencing before. You want to bottle this precious feeling forever.

Eventually, Max breaks the tranquil quiet with a murmured, “Tell me why you hate university so much.”

You tense reflexively at the simple question before letting out a shuddering breath, curling closer to Max’s solid frame.

“It’s just … not me. Not who I am,” you mumble, struggling to articulate the turbulent storm of emotions your father’s demands have been stirring within you. “I’m expected to act and think a certain way, to follow rules and meet standards that I can’t bring myself to embrace. It’s suffocating.”

You pause, sifting through your scattered thoughts for the right words. “I’ve never known anything but expectation and obligation, Max. It’s like … being slowly crushed under this ever-increasing weight of being someone I’m not while being denied any chance at discovering my true self.”

Max’s arms tighten around you protectively, his lips brushing over the crown of your head. “So stop,” he says, the simplicity of his words at odds with the complex web of anxiety and disappointment your life has become.

You shake your head wearily. “I can’t. You know my father — he’ll cut me off without a second thought if I so much as breathe about dropping out again.”

Despite the hefty inheritance awaiting you, Toto has always been resolute that his children earn their share through grueling hard work and achievement. To do anything but, even for a moment, is a grievous failure in his eyes.

“No,” Max’s tone brooks no argument, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t you see? You don’t have to live like that anymore.”

One corded arm slips beneath your waist, rolling you until Max is looming over you, his chiseled features grave and intense. “You have me now,” he states with quiet certainty, words ringing with the weight of a solemn vow. “I’ll take care of you, schatje — no matter what. Even if your father cuts you off.”

The conviction in his voice steals your breath, your heart clenching almost painfully at the naked promise in his eyes. “Max ...” you start to protest weakly, but he quiets you with a brush of his fingertips over your lips.

“Hear me out,” he says, tone gentle but uncompromising. “What if … what if you just dropped out? Quit this half-life that’s slowly killing your spirit and let me take care of you?”

He leans in until his brow is resting against yours, eyes searching the depths of your own. “I know this is new between us. But I’ve wanted you for so long, printsesse. And I know — down to my very soul — that we’re meant for each other.”

A tremulous exhale escapes you, your chest tightening as Max’s words wrap around your heart in a heated embrace. It’s insane, surely — to take such a risk based on attraction and a single incredible night in his arms. But the vision he paints of safety and freedom sings an inescapable siren song you can’t resist.

“I … I don’t know what to say,” you whisper, suddenly afraid to break the delicate spell woven around you both.

“Say yes.” He kisses you reverently, until your lashes flutter shut at the tender onslaught. “Say yes, and let me take care of you, printsesse. The way you deserve to be cherished.”

God help you, but you can feel your resistance crumbling in the face of Max’s single-minded intensity and undeniable allure. He’s everything you’ve been missing — freedom, passion, and hope for something more than the crushing prison of expectation.

So with one last, shaky exhalation, you give in.

“Okay,” you breathe, the dam finally bursting as tears of bewildered relief prick your eyes. “Yes, Max. Yes.”

He claims your lips in a searing, triumphant kiss that leaves you lightheaded and clinging to him. When you part, his smile is brighter than a thousand suns.

“Tomorrow morning,” he vows fiercely against your swollen mouth. “First thing — you’re calling your university and withdrawing. No arguments.”

Your chest clenches sharply at the directive, fear and anxiety lancing through you at the enormity of what you’ve just agreed to. The crushing weight of your father’s disapproval already feels like a lead shroud.

But Max is there, holding you close and peppering your face with soothing kisses. “Shhh, schatje,” he croons, stroking your hair. “Don’t overthink it. This is what you want, isn’t it? To finally be happy and free?”

You manage a jerky nod, melting into the safety of his solid strength. “Y-yes. But ...”

“No buts,” he reproves gently, capturing your gaze again. “It’s you and me now, Y/N. I’ll handle everything else, I swear it. All you need to focus on is finding what makes you happy again. The rest is my problem. Understand?”

You suck in a shaky breath and let it out slowly, wrestling your scattered thoughts into a semblance of order. What Max offers — this safe harbor from all the pressures slowly drowning you from without and within — is everything you’ve been desperate for. Your own private rebellion against the rigid expectations suffocating you at every turn.

If nothing else, you owe it to yourself to take this lifeline.

With a tremulous smile, you curl into Max and nod against his chest. “Okay. I understand.”

“Good girl,” he praises, satisfaction and triumph ringing in his tone as he cradles you tenderly. “Everything’s going to be alright now, printsesse. You’ll see. I’m going to take such good care of you.”

His fingers stroke through your tresses again, the repetitive sweep quickly lulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep. The first of what you hope will be many where you don’t fret and stew over responsibilities and failures.

The last coherent thought that drifts through your mind as you let Max’s strong heartbeat under your ear lull you under is one of bone-deep contentment and relief.

You’re finally, blissfully free.

***

The first faint rays of dawn filter through the gauzy curtains, rousing you from the most restful sleep you’ve had in longer than you can remember. For a blissful moment, you simply bask in the cocoon of warmth and safety enveloping you — the solid weight of Max’s arm draped possessively over your waist, the clean, musky scent of him surrounding you.

Then the gravity of your decision the previous night comes crashing back in a dizzying wave. Your breath hitches in your chest as apprehension and anxiety spark to life once more.

Sensing the shift in your mood, Max stirs behind you with a quiet rumble, nosing aside the tumbled locks at your nape to press a hushed kiss there.

“Morning, printsesse,” he murmurs, voice still roughened from sleep in a way that has something inside you clenching with need. “Sleep well?”

You can only nod, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in your throat as you twist in the circle of his arms to face him. His brow furrows at the clear trepidation playing over your features.

“Hey now,” he soothes, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheekbone. “None of that, schatje. You know what you need to do.”

Your teeth snag your lower lip in a nervous gesture as you give another jerky nod. Yes, you know. You agreed to call your university this morning and make your break official by withdrawing.

It should be a relief — knowing you’re finally free of all those crushing expectations and obligations. And yet ...

Max must read the swirling doubts and fears etched into the tense lines of your body. Because he simply gathers you closer, cradling the back of your head against his broad chest as his free hand strokes over your hip in a soothing caress.

“I know it’s scary, letting go of everything you’ve been groomed for,” he murmurs, the steady thump of his heart under your ear already working its magic in calming your turbulent emotions. “But this is what you want, isn’t it? To be happy?”

Another nod, this one more decisive. Because despite the trepidation gnawing at your resolve, you know deep down that it will be worth escaping the slow atrophy of your spirit.

“Then trust me. Let me take care of you, just like I promised.”

He tilts your chin up until your gazes lock, his eyes burning with so much intensity and conviction that your breath catches.

“Make the call,” he urges in a low rumble, searing you to your core. “Be brave and take the first step towards your freedom. Towards us.”

Us.

The word reverberates through your veins with dizzying potency, stoking the blossoming embers of hope and longing that have been kindled to life under Max’s tender, all-consuming attentions. He’s right — you do want this. Want him and the scorching promise of something more that he offers.

So with a shuddering exhale, you reach for your phone with trembling fingers and scroll through your contacts. It’s only when you tap the university’s number that the vise around your chest constricts.

You’re really doing this. Cutting ties with everything that’s suppressed your true self for so long.

Before you can lose your nerve, you hit call.

Max soothes you through every stumbling assurance and confirmation that yes, you’re formally withdrawing from your degree program, effective immediately. When the call ends, he cradles your face in his large, calloused palms and simply holds your gaze as you struggle to get your breathing under control.

Then, slowly, a smile blooms over his striking features.

“Well done, printsesse,” he praises, the rough timbre of his tone reverberating through your very bones. “So brave for me.”

And then his mouth is on yours, claiming you in a drugging kiss that swiftly banishes any lingering doubts or regrets thrumming through you. His taste, his scent, his unbridled passion — all of it combines into an intoxicating force that strips everything else away until only sensation remains.

He murmurs silken endearments to you as the desperate, frantic press of his lips gentles into something softer and infinitely more tender. Until finally, he’s simply cradling you close, peppering whisper-light caresses over your brow, your lashes, the flushed apples of your cheeks.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, gleaming with pride as he drinks in your dazed, thoroughly kissed expression. The profoundly peaceful one you haven’t witnessed on your own features in ages. “My brave, beautiful girl.”

And in that suspended moment, everything else — your father’s disappointment, your uncertain future, and the world at large — fades into irrelevance compared to the serenity of being in Max’s arms. Of having his full attention and accepting the release he offers so freely.

A few hours later, Max is escorting you through the familiar paddock with a possessive hand cupping your lower back. There’s a bounce to your strides that hasn’t existed for longer than you can recall, a giddy sense of lightness like all the burdens you’ve been carrying were finally, blissfully lifted away.

You’re practically glowing, the radiant joy suffusing your every pore in a stark transformation from the tense young woman who fought so hard to hide her unhappiness under a brittle veneer.

So caught up are you in the heady exhilaration of your new lease on life that you very nearly don’t register the familiar, thunderous bellow ringing out over the motorhomes.

“Y/N Wolff! Just what in the hell is going on here?”

The blood drains from your face as your father’s irate voice cleaves through the peaceful moment. Beside you, Max stiffens, his palm searing a brand against the small of your back as he half-turns to face the oncoming storm that is Toto Wolff.

Your father is stalking towards you both with the implacable force of an enraged bull, features contorted into a mask of fury that would cow most grown men into instant submission. But not Max. If anything, his shoulders go back as he shifts incrementally in front of you in a subtle, shielding motion.

“Papa, please let me explain-”

“Explain?” Toto roars as he draws up mere feet away, face mottled and spit flying as his blistering glare swings between you and Max. “Explain why I received an email this morning informing me that my own daughter has willfully withdrawn from the university without so much as consulting me!”

You flinch bodily as if struck, guilt and dread roiling sickeningly in the pit of your stomach. No matter how much he’s stifled you or how right this decision feels, your father’s disapproval is every bit as crippling as you’d feared.

“But Papa ...”

“I have half a mind to cut you off without a cent to your name for this unseemly lack of respect!” Toto’s massive hands are clenched into meaty fists at his sides as he fights visibly to regain control over his temper. “You spoiled, selfish girl. All that I’ve sacrificed to give you every opportunity is being thrown back in my face!”

Beside you, Max has gone rigid with rage at the verbal assault being levied upon you. The set of his jaw and rapid flaring of his nostrils are the only outward signs of the barely leashed fury trembling through his frame.

“Toto,” he bites out in a tone of forced calm that still somehow comes laced with subtle menace. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? Y/N is an adult making her own choices ...”

“Enough!” Toto cuts him off with a contemptuous slash of his hand, bristling with scorn as he glares daggers at the younger man. “I should have known you’d have something to do with this blatant disregard for responsibility. Just like a driver to think only with what’s between his legs rather than his brain!”

A shocked hush falls over the paddock as mechanics and crew alike abruptly still at the team principal’s uncharacteristic loss of composure. Never before have they witnessed Toto’s infamous ire directed towards his own daughter and her … well, whatever Max is to you now.

But Max remains supremely unbowed before the fury radiating from the much larger man. If anything, Toto’s words seem to enflame his quiet indignation into something hotter. His hands clench into white-knuckled fists as he takes a bristling half-step forward, fully inserting himself between you and your irate father.

“No, Toto,” he growls, the timbre of his normally lilting accent gone dark and thrumming with promise. “That’s quite enough. You’ll not speak to Y/N like that again — not while I’m here.”

Toto blinks, seeming caught off guard by Max’s outright challenge … before a bark of disbelieving laughter rips from his chest.

When he speaks again, his words are bitten off and cruel. “I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose,” he sneers in your direction, mouth curled in an ugly sneer. “You’ve become the useless little trophy that I always dreaded having for a daughter. Just another parasite leeching off a wealthy man’s success while contributing nothing of value herself.”

Your breath leaves you in a painful wheeze, like you’ve been gut-punched. Tears of shame and wounded pride prick hotly at the corners of your eyes. Is that really how your own father sees you?

That’s the final straw for Max. With a vicious snarl, he very nearly lunges for Toto — only stopped by your panicked grasp around his rigid forearm and a breathless cry for him to stay back.

“Max! Please!”

The naked anguish bleeding into your voice seems to penetrate his haze of seething fury. He pauses, still trembling with scarcely restrained wrath, but nods once in silent agreement to your desperate plea. Behind his unflinching glower, you can glimpse the simmering promise that your father will face severe retribution in his own due time.

But for now, he forces himself to remain impassive and immovable by your side. No longer antagonizing but issuing a clear warning all the same.

The elder Wolff eyes Max with open disgust before shaking his head violently and spitting onto the concrete floor. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, Verstappen. Just you wait. And you!” He wheels on you with fresh outrage blazing in his gaze. “Don’t think for a second I won’t make you regret this ridiculous, childish display! You’re cut off, Y/N. Not a single cent until you return to your senses!”

His final scathing words slice into you like a blade, reopening all the wounds of disappointment and failure that have long festered under his stringent demands. You curl in on yourself with a soft, pained noise, unable to even raise your head properly.

Until Max is there.

Cocooning you protectively in the scorching circle of his arms, he gathers you to his chest and simply … holds you. One hand cradles the back of your skull while the other strokes over your back, soothing and petting until some of the rigid tension seeps from your frame.

“It’s alright, schatje,” he murmurs against your hairline, voice rough yet infinitely tender in a way that has tears stinging hotly against your lashes. “There’s no need for this. I’ve got you, printsesse. You’ll never want for anything, not while I’m here.”

His fierce promise rings with so much conviction, so much quiet authority that it bypasses all your ingrained doubts and hesitancies straight to the hollow pit of worthlessness that’s been carved out within you over the years. Soothing that profound ache and filling it with the warmth of Max’s oath.

Because somewhere in the eye of this turbulent storm, you’ve found your shelter.

“I won’t let him hurt you anymore,” Max continues in that same low, reassuring tone. One hand cradles your nape while the other settles against the small of your back, grounding you against the solidness of his strength. “Never again, I swear it.”

So you let yourself unravel against him, forehead pressed to the steady thrum of his pulse as years’ worth of tears flow unchecked down your cheeks. For the first time, you don’t feel shame or weakness in surrendering so utterly to another’s care and protection.

He murmurs wordless endearments and soothes your disheveled tresses as the storm breaks around you both. Making promises as uncompromising and eternal as the rising of the sun itself.

“Everything will be alright now, printsesse. You’ll see. I’ll sort it all, whatever it takes. This is our new start together. And I’ll never let you go.”

***

For the remainder of the weekend, you’re practically glued to Max’s side in the Red Bull garage. A permanent fixture nestled against his solid bulk, soaking up the quiet strength and support he provides like a soothing balm over the raw, aching wounds left by your father’s scathing vitriol.

With Max, none of the biting insecurities and self-doubts that have plagued you for so long can gain purchase. He simply won’t allow it — not with the way he gathers you up in his embrace at every opportunity, lips constantly seeking out your brow, your temple, the sensitive skin of your ear as he murmurs reassurances too low for anyone else’s ears.

And when it comes time for the lights to go out, Max doesn’t so much as compete as utterly dominate, blowing the rest of the field into the weeds. You watch with breathless awe from your spot in the garage as he carves through the field lap after punishing lap, pulling out a lead that turns him into a missile disappearing over the horizon in a blur of ear-splitting power.

By the final lap, Max is so far ahead that he simply has to bring his car home for a staggering 42 second victory. You’re one of the first to greet him after he clambers from the cockpit, all but throwing yourself into his sweat-slicked embrace with a joyful exclamation the second his boots hit the ground.

The cameras inevitably flock, capturing the moment Max lifts you clean off your feet in a bone-crushing hug as his team erupts into jubilant celebration around you both. But Max’s eyes only have focus for you, darkened and blazing with the same all-consuming intensity that’s been ignited behind his ribs since the first moment you let yourself surrender to him wholly.

Later, once the press obligations and podium formalities are complete, Max bundles you away with brisk efficiency — not even needing to explain where you’re headed. You simply follow his lead, gripping his hand tightly as he shepherds you to a private airstrip where his jet awaits.

Your heart skips erratically as you settle into the plush leather seats and Max seals you both inside the luxurious cabin, shutting out the rest of the clamoring world until it’s only the two of you in your own private oasis. Even after everything that’s happened between you in such a short span, you can’t quite shake the giddy disbelief that any of this is truly real.

But then Max is there, sinking onto the seat beside you and gathering you into his side like you’re made to nestle against him for the rest of time. His calloused palm curves over the nape of your neck, thumb stroking over the flutter of your pulse as he presses his brow to your temple and simply … breathes you in.

“That’s it, printsesse,” he murmurs, so low you feel the rumbling timbre in your bones more than hear it. “Just you and me now.”

The jet engines whine to life, as Max tips your chin up to capture your gaze. You go utterly breathless under the weight of his scorching stare, the fevered grey of his irises swirling with so much naked promise that your pulse kicks up several perilous notches.

“Where are we going?” You somehow find the means to whisper, unconsciously licking your lips in a gesture that has Max’s eyes riveting there hungrily.

Rather than answering right away, he nuzzles his mouth over the delicate line of your jaw until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear. “Home,” he rumbles, sending delicious shivers cascading through you. “We’re going home to Monaco, schatje. Where you and I can start our new life together.”

Your breath hitches audibly at the raw yearning, the adamant possession threaded through his words. The implication that you — his everything now, just like he is yours — will be shacking up in his private sanctuary away from prying eyes and unending scrutiny.

Just the thought alone has a molten thrill of anticipation blooming low in your belly. To be utterly alone with Max, isolated from the outside world and every toxicity that’s weighed down your every step until now. To finally spread your wings and breathe the first tendrils of long-denied freedom as his partner, unburdened of expectation or judgment for once.

Is there anything you crave more than that?

As if privy to your innermost thoughts, Max shifts until he can cup your face in his palms. The kiss he brushes over your lips is searing yet paradoxically soft around the edges — like he’s sealing an unspoken promise to cherish you wholly. To be your shield from a world too cruel and demanding when left to its own devices.

“Our new beginning,” he murmurs against your mouth, words scalding with the same intensity as his embrace. “I can’t wait to show you our home, printsesse. To have you all to myself for once.”

The plane surges into its takeoff run, leaving the ground behind as Max’s grip tightens incrementally, hands smoothing over the sloped curves of your neck and shoulders. There’s a sense of possession layered into his touch, a heady feeling that twines through your body until everything is gilded in need.

Languidly, he works his way across the cradle of your throat, painting the fragile hollows with the blistering heat of his lips and tongue. You shudder against him, nerves set alight and already keening for more of his undivided worship.

“I have the most gorgeous penthouse overlooking the marina,” he continues on a low purr, lips shaping endearments against your feverish skin. “Sweeping terraces with hot tubs and daybeds where you can lounge and not have a single care, schatje.”

Your lashes flutter closed in a dazed sweep, head tipping back against the plush headrest to allow Max easier access as he lavishes attention along the fragile dips of your collarbones. You can’t process anything beyond the raging heat blazing to life under his coaxing touch, exquisitely overwhelmed in the most delicious way.

“Mmm, and of course it’ll need some changes, no doubt,” Max rumbles, nosing aside the loose fall of your hair to trail open-mouthed kisses along the fragile column of your neck. “New furniture maybe. Whatever strikes your fancy to make it our space.”

He captures your wandering gaze with his own heated one then, a brow cocked in silent invitation. Somehow you gather enough mental function to nod breathlessly, surrendering control over yet another crucial element of your new life to Max’s steady and capable hands.

“Perfect. I’ll have the best interior designers come around to work their magic. That way you won’t have to strain yourself with all those pesky decisions.”

Relief crests through you in an almost dizzying wave at Max’s implicit assurance that he’ll handle everything, as always. That your only role in this brave new world you’ve embraced will be resting peacefully in the shelter of his care and devotion.

As if in reward, Max finally claims your lips in a kiss that scatters what few coherent thoughts still clung to your lust-drunk brain. His hands roam freely, mapping every sloping curve and silken plane as he lays you back against the buttery leather seats to hover over you.

“Don’t worry about a single thing from now on, printsesse,” he vows in a husky rasp, trailing smoldering kisses along the delicate skin over your thundering pulse. “Just let me take the reins and show you a life without all the endless strain and misery you’ve endured.”

His fingers drift up to wind through your tumbled hair, nails scratching lightly over your scalp as your eyes drift shut in blissful surrender. You’re floating, suspended in a state of hazy, unfocused euphoria with only Max’s low timbre washing over you.

“I’ll make sure you never want for anything again. That pretty head of yours won’t have to trouble itself over choices or tedious trivialities any longer.” A searing kiss is pressed to each of your fluttering eyelids, like he’s sealing each promise behind the delicate barrier of bone and flesh.

“No decisions, no worries,” he murmurs, nibbling a path down the delicate arch of your cheekbone. “Just bliss and contentment and pleasure as far as the eye can see. You’ll exist only for my warmth and protection from now on. To be cherished every second of every day for the rest of our lives.”

More kisses, like balms of heated adoration poured over your sensitized skin. You keen softly on each breath, body arching helplessly into his skilled caresses as he worships you with his hands and mouth.

“That’s it, printsesse,” he croons, slowly stripping you down to chase the slope and hollow of your form with his lips. Every fevered, burning press sears his devotion into your flesh, your consciousness spiraling inward until only Max’s raspy declarations anchor you in blissful desire.

“Let it all go. Forget everything but this — us, our love, our new start. Nothing but sweet oblivion from now until eternity.”

You shudder, boneless and needy in his cradling embrace even as serenity steals over your limbs. Max’s heated weight on top of you is an anchor keeping you grounded in a sea of molten liquid pleasure, his impossible heat seeming to bleed into your very bones with each passing moment.

“That’s my beautiful girl,” he praises in a voice like rumbling thunder, lips shaping words of adoration against the swell of your navel as your eyelids sag heavily. “So perfect and made for me alone. To take such good care of you from this day until my last, printsesse. To give you the world and then some.”

Unconsciousness beckons, cradling you in its downy soft embrace until only the sound of Max’s worshipful murmurs penetrates the enveloping cocoon of warmth and safety surrounding you. It’s the sweetest surrender imaginable, floating away on a sea of rippling, indulgent bliss with your beloved at the helm to guide you home.

The last threads of awareness slip from your grasp as Max shifts and settles behind you, pillowing you against his chest. With a contented sigh, you burrow deeper into the furnace of his solid strength and let the rhythmic thud of his pulse lull you under. His fingers stroke idle patterns through your hair, the rhythmic sweeps like a metronome steadying your descent into deepest slumber.

“Sleep now, printsesse,” he commands in that same soft, indulgent tone that wraps around your soul. “We’re headed for our paradise.”

His deep rumble quickly lulls you under again, cradled in the safety of his arms. The last coherent thought spinning lazily through the cozy haze enveloping you is one of profound gratitude and trust.

You know, deep in your bones, that Max will make good on his promise to cherish you without reservation. To shield you from expectations and disappointment alike.

So you let his softly murmured endearments and the steady cadence of his heartbeat under your cheek sing you into blissful, worry-free dreams of the life he’s vowed to craft for you both.

It’s everything you’ve ever yearned for yet been too afraid to reach out and claim.

Until Now.

Until Max.

***

The early morning sun filters through the curtains as Max stirs awake. His eyes flutter open and immediately drift to you, lying peacefully beside him. A soft smile plays across his lips as he takes in your features — the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fans out across the pillow. In this moment, you look so beautifully unburdened, free from the worries that so often trouble your mind.

Max reaches out, tenderly brushing a few stray strands from your forehead. You don’t stir, lost in the depths of a dreamless slumber. Good, he thinks. You need this rest, this escape from the harsh realities that have been weighing you down.

His thumb traces along your cheekbone as his mind wanders back to the distressing news a few days prior — your father revoking your paddock access in a bitter act of retaliation. Max’s jaw tightens at the memory of the anguish clouding your eyes when you relayed the email to him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Max had said simply, pulling you into his embrace. “You’re with me now.”

And just like that, the tension seeped from your shoulders as you allowed yourself to melt against him, letting his presence anchor you. Max knew then what he had to do — create an oasis for you where none of your troubles could penetrate.

Leaning closer, he presses a feather-light kiss to your temple. “Wake up, schatje,” he murmurs. “It’s a new day.”

You stir slightly, eyelashes fluttering as consciousness slowly trickles in. Max watches, transfixed, as awareness blooms across your features. For a suspended beat, there is only serene blankness, a clean slate unmarred by the demons that so often still haunt you.

Then your gaze finds his, and the corners of your mouth tug upwards in a soft, wondering smile. “Max ...”

“Morning, printsesse.” He brushes his knuckles along your jaw. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, as if trying to grasp at fleeting tendrils of thought. But there is nothing there to catch, only a tranquil emptiness. “Good,” you murmur at last. “Really good.”

Relief washes over Max at the simplicity and peacefulness in your tone. He leans in, capturing your lips in a lingering kiss. You melt into him, pliant and trusting, and he commits every little thing to memory — the warmth of your skin, the faint taste of sweetness on your tongue, and the way your fingers tangle in his sleep-mussed hair.

When you finally part, you are both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, searching your eyes. They are clear, untroubled pools reflecting back at him.

“That’s it,” he praises softly. “No worries, no stress. Just … here. Present with me.”

You nod, something vulnerable yet beautiful flickering across your features. Max recognizes it as the look you get when you fully surrender yourself to him, allowing him to take the lead, to care for you in the way you so desperately need.

Brushing his thumb across your lower lip, he holds your gaze. “What would you like for breakfast, hmm? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You nibble on your lip for a moment before shaking your head. “Don’t know. You choose.”

His heart clenches at the utter trust in your words. Nodding, he leans down to graze another deep kiss across your mouth before slipping from the sheets. As he pads across the plush hotel carpet to call room service, he can feel the weight of your eyes tracking his every movement.

Once the order is placed, Max returns to the bed, stretching out beside you as he pulls you against his chest. You burrow closer with a contented sigh, looping an arm around his waist.

“What do you want to do until breakfast arrives?” He asks, carding his fingers through your tousled hair.

You shrug one shoulder, nuzzling your cheek against the bare skin of his torso. “Don’t care,” you mumble drowsily. “Just … this.”

A profound sort of tenderness blooms in Max’s chest. He knows you would be amenable to anything, so long as it allowed you to exist in this carefree, thoughtless state a while longer.

“Alright, then just this,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to your crown.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, lazily trading soft caresses and occasional whispered endearments. Max finds himself lulled by the steady thump of your heartbeat against his ribs, the gentle ebb and flow of your breathing.

He has no notion of how much time slips by before there is a crisp rap at the door, jolting you both from the tranquil bubble. Your eyes widen slightly, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Max smooths his palm along the line of your spine. “Just breakfast, nothing to worry about.”

You seem to remember then, the tension melting from your frame as you peer up at him with trusting eyes. He brushes his thumb across the delicate arch of your cheekbone before carefully extricating himself from your embrace to answer the door.

While the server situates the laden cart inside, Max rejoins you on the bed, rearranging the plump pillows behind you so you can sit upright. You immediately slot yourself between his outstretched legs, reclining against his chest. His arms wind around your middle as you both survey the impressive spread laid out before you.

“What looks good?” He prompts, resting his chin atop your head.

You chew your lip for a moment. “I don’t know … everything?”

He chuckles, splaying one hand across your stomach. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to go hungry, now would I? How about we start with this-” He leans over, snagging a ripe strawberry from the platter and holding it to your lips. You part them obediently, eyes sliding shut as you savor the sweet burst of flavor.

Max nuzzles into the crook of your neck, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Good girl,” he praises in a low rumble.

You shiver against him, tilting your head in a silent plea for more. He happily obliges, feeding you bite after bite until the platter is decimated. His free hand roams lazily, mapping every dip and swell of your form through the thin cotton of your oversized sleep shirt. All the while, his mouth works along the exposed column of your throat, peppering fervent, open-mouthed kisses against your flushed skin.

At some point, the scattered remains of your indulgent breakfast lay forgotten on the cart as Max rolls you beneath him, drinking in your breathy whimpers and sighs. He takes his time thoroughly ravishing you until you are both sated and deliciously disheveled.

Eventually, you find yourselves curled together amid the tangled nests of sheets, trading languid kisses and basking in the afterglow. Max strokes his fingers through your hair as your head lolls against his shoulder, expression blissfully serene. Your lashes are dark smudges against your flushed cheeks, lips slightly parted on shallow breaths.

“There she is,” he murmurs, drinking in your debauched beauty. “My sweet girl, all relaxed and happy ...”

Ducking his head, Max nuzzles his nose along your hairline, inhaling your comforting scent. “No thoughts, no cares,” he rumbles against your temple. “Just you and me in this perfect little world.”

You make a soft, wordless sound of agreement, snuggling closer in his embrace. He smiles, gathering you even tighter against his chest, relishing the sensation of your heartbeats falling into sync.

All too soon, however, the tranquil interlude must come to an end. Max glances at the clock, silently calculating how much time remains before he needs to head to the paddock. He heaves a reluctant sigh, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Come on, schatje,” he murmurs. “Time to get ready.”

You blink up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, still blissfully adrift in your peaceful daze. Warmth blooms in Max’s chest at your guileless expression. He would move mountains to keep you looking this way forever — soft and sated, basking in the afterglow with your head deliciously empty.

“Don’t worry,” he vows, thumbing away the crease furrowing your brow. “I’ll take care of you. You just let your thoughts stay nice and quiet, hmm?”

The worry lines ease from your features as you nod with implicit trust, allowing Max to guide you from the rumpled sheets. He quickly sets about straightening your mussed appearance, dressing you with unhurried tenderness. All the while, you remain pliant and completely biddable in his hands, seemingly unconcerned with anything beyond the present moment.

Once you’re both fresh and presentable, Max slips an arm around your waist, tucking you against his side. You go willingly, temple resting in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“My good girl,” he praises, mouth brushing your hairline. “Let’s go, keep drifting for me.”

You make a soft, affirmative noise, slipping your hand into his as you allow him to lead the way from the sanctuary of your hotel suite. Max is acutely aware of your body listing bonelessly against his own, of the feather-light brush of your lashes against his jaw every few steps.

He knows others might gawk, might question the almost trancelike state you’ve allowed yourself to sink into. But he couldn’t care less about their muttered judgments. His only priority is ensuring you remain in this safe, blissful headspace for as long as possible.

When you finally reach the paddock, Max ushers you towards a secluded alcove in weRed Bull hospitality. He settles you on a plush loveseat, ensuring you’re situated comfortably. Crouching before you, he smooths his palms along the tops of your thighs, holding your drowsy gaze.

“Wait here for me,” he says, keeping his tone low and soothing. “I’ll come get you before FP3, yeah? Just … stay relaxed. Let your mind stay beautifully empty.”

You blink at him, lips curving in an utterly trusting smile. “Okay, Max.”

His chest constricts powerfully at your dreamy, unguarded expression. Rising on his knees, he cups your face in his hands, claiming your mouth in a gentle kiss. You open for him without hesitation, kissing him back with languid strokes of your tongue.

When you finally part, you are both left slightly breathless. Max strokes his thumbs along the swollen curves of your lower lip as you gaze at him from beneath heavy lids, looking thoroughly ravished and compliant.

“I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “I love seeing you like this — free and happy without all those nasty thoughts plaguing you. It’s just us in our own world. Nothing else matters here, printsesse.”

You keen softly in response, nosing deeper into his touch like a touch-starved kitten. He chuckles indulgently, dropping another lingering kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promises. “Stay pretty and sweet for me.”

With one final caress along your jaw, Max tears himself away, walking towards the Red Bull garage with purposeful strides. He can feel the weight of your eyes tracking him until he rounds the corner, can picture the blissful emptiness clouding your features.

The thought bolsters him, lending an extra swagger to his step as he readies himself for the day ahead. For once, he finds himself relishing the familiar paddock chaos, eager to simply immerse himself in the visceral thrill of the sport he loves.

He knows his favorite reward will be waiting when the practice session concludes — your warm, pliant form and those trusting doe eyes filled with nothing but adoration.

***

The next morning, Max wakes with a familiar sense of tranquil purpose. Shifting onto his side, he brushes the tousled hair back from your forehead, drinking in the sight of you sleeping so peacefully beside him. A contented smile curves his lips as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, reveling in how relaxed and unburdened you appear.

He knows today will be demanding — race day always is. But that makes moments like these where he can simply bask in your presence all the more precious. With gentle reverence, Max trails his fingertips along the delicate line of your jaw, tracing the bow of your slightly parted lips.

“Time to wake up, schatje,” he murmurs. “Big day ahead.”

You stir with a soft, wordless hum, lashes fluttering. Max feels his breath catch as your eyes open, glassy and unfocused for a few beats before finding his own. Just like that, the furrow between your brows smooths out, leaving your expression blissfully untroubled.

“There you are,” he croons, heart clenching at the naked trust shining back at him. Cupping your cheek, he leans in to brush a soft, lingering kiss across your pliant mouth.

When he pulls back, you’re already chasing his lips with a small, plaintive noise. Max chuckles fondly, combing his fingers through your tousled hair.

“Needy girl,” he teases, though his voice is laced with undisguised affection. “I suppose I’d better take care of that before we have to leave, hmm?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond — not that he expects any coherent reply in your current state. No, better to let your thoughts remain deliciously empty as he claims your mouth again in a series of heated kisses.

Max loses himself in the familiar glide of lips and tongue, the quiet whimpers that spill from your throat every time he nips at that sensitive spot just below your ear. He maps every inch of your sleep-warm skin with devoted hands until you are both flushed and panting softly.

Eventually, however, the persistent ticking of the bedside clock drags him back to awareness of the rapidly dwindling time. With a regretful groan, Max tears his mouth from the juncture of your neck, nosing his way along your jaw until he can capture your lips in one final kiss.

“We should get going,” he murmurs against the swollen curve of your lower lip. Though his tone is tinged with reluctance, there’s an unmistakable rasp of command underlying the words.

You blink up at him, pupils blown wide and dark, but give a trusting nod. Max feels his chest constrict powerfully at the easy acquiescence. Brushing his thumb in a tender caress across your cheekbone, he slants his mouth over yours once more, coaxing you through several more drugging kisses until your lips are kiss-bitten and slick.

“Good girl,” he praises roughly when you finally part, both breathing heavily. “You’re going to keep feeling this relaxed all day, aren’t you? No nasty thoughts creeping in, just … blissful quiet waiting for me.”

Something like reverence flashes across your features as you nod jerkily, unconsciously worrying your already abused lip between your teeth. Max groans low in his throat, capturing your face between his palms and slanting his mouth over yours in a filthy kiss, all heat and slick friction and desperation.

When he finally manages to tear himself away, you’re rumpled and utterly debauched beneath him, chest heaving. He has to actively resist the urge to simply drag you back under his body, to lose himself in ravishing you until you’re both sated and boneless.

“Gonna make me late for my own race at this rate,” he chides gruffly, though his heated gaze roams indulgently over your prone form.

Levering himself off the bed with obvious reluctance, Max quickly sets about readying the both of you for the day, tugging you along in his wake with firm yet gentle hands. You follow easily, movements loose and languid and so very pliant under his ministrations.

By the time he’s dressed you and seen to your grooming, your features have settled into that slack, dreamy expression he loves so much — eyes glassy and lips slightly parted, not a single worry line creasing your forehead. Perfection.

“There’s my sweet girl,” he rumbles in approval, reeling you into his arms.

You go willingly, slumping bonelessly against his chest with a soft, incoherent murmur. He smiles, nosing into the tousled hair at your crown and inhaling your familiar scent. For a long moment, he simply revels in the sensation of your body melting trustingly into his own, of the steady throb of your pulse against his ribs.

All too soon, however, the hands of the clock continue their march forward. With a rueful sigh, Max presses one last lingering kiss to your hair before reluctantly disentangling himself.

“Come along then, printsesse,” he murmurs, catching your hand and giving a gentle tug. “Time to go.”

You make a soft, wordless noise of agreement, falling into step beside him without a shred of hesitation. Every few paces, you angle yourself closer until your shoulder brushes his bicep, seemingly seeking his solid warmth.

Max feels an indulgent smile tugging at his lips as he slips a possessive arm around your waist, anchoring you against his side. You immediately slot against him, temple resting in the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He can sense the dreamy, unfocused quality of your gaze as it skims over your surroundings, can practically hear the blissful white noise filling your head.

As you exit the hotel and navigate through the throngs of people clustered outside, Max holds you even tighter, letting the murmurs and clicks of camera shutters wash over him in a dull roar. He’s hyperaware of every point where your body molds to his, of the trusting way you tuck yourself into his shelter without so much as a backwards glance.

By the time the two of you reach the circuit, your cheeks are flushed and there’s a becoming sort of dazed softness to your features. Max has to resist the urge to simply tuck you away in some quiet corner, to keep you insulated in this perfect bubble for as long as humanly possible.

But race days are nothing if not a whirlwind of demands and tight schedules. So instead, he ushers you along the serpentine corridors with a sturdy arm locked around your waist, relishing the way you move beside him in that lovely, blissed-out trance.

When you finally reach the motorhome, he deposits you on the leather couch with gentle reverence, taking a moment to situate you with utmost care. You gaze up at him, eyes glassy but utterly trusting as he smooths back the hair from your forehead.

“Wait here for me, hmm?” He murmurs, cupping the line of your jaw. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just keep that pretty head deliciously empty and let me take care of everything else.”

The corner of your mouth curves in a soft, wondering smile before you give a tiny nod of agreement. Unable to resist, Max leans in to capture that gentle upturn between his lips, kissing you deeply until you’re pliant and breathless and unfurling like a flower against his chest.

He has to tear himself away before his precarious restraint snaps. “Good girl,” he praises roughly, drinking in the sight of your dreamy, intoxicated expression before forcing himself to turn away, walking toward the garage with purposeful strides.

The familiar race-day chaos swirls around him in a torrent of noise and movement, but Max easily blocks the distractions from his mind, focusing intently on his preparations. There is something grounding about the rituals, the procedural drive to ready his car and equipment. By the time he emerges onto the grid, he is centered and assured, every ounce of his concentration honed on the inevitable green light.

The race itself is, as always, a heated blur of adrenaline and split-second reflexes. Every nerve ending thrums with that singular focus until he’s drunk on the scream of the engine and the smear of color whipping past his visor.

When he finally returns to parc fermé, it takes Max a disorienting moment to recognize the distant clamor bleeding in from beyond the paddock. Handing his helmet off to a mechanic, he makes his way towards the steadily amplifying sound, chest still heaving from the lingering effects of the endorphin high.

Rounding the corner towards the pits, he’s abruptly met by a scene of utter chaos. People — crews and spectators alike — seem to be converging in a jumbled knot near the Red Bull garage, a strange sort of bristling tension in the air. Max falters for a moment, brow furrowing in bewilderment, when a familiar figure finally emerges in his line of sight.

You.

Your expression is one of naked distress, red splotches staining those beloved cheeks as you seem to shrink in on yourself. Though he can’t make out the words, it’s clear you’re pleading with the imposing figure looming over you.

Your father.

Something protective and ferocious ignites in Max’s chest at the realization. Surging forward, he shoves his way through the ranks of onlookers until he’s at your side, reaching out to splay a steadying hand at the small of your back. You automatically angle into his touch, small tremors wracking your frame. Up close, he can make out the tear tracks streaking your flushed face, the way your lips are bitten and swollen from worrying them raw between your teeth.

“What the hell is going on here?” He demands, shooting a scathing look at your father.

Before Toto can answer, another man steps forward, one Max recognizes as a FIA official. “Perhaps we should take this discussion somewhere more private,” he suggests in clipped tones, eyes darting around at the milling crowd.

A muscle ticks in Toto’s jaw, but he gives a curt nod of assent. Without a word, he turns on his heel and stalks away, clearly expecting the rest of them to follow. Max feels your fingers fisting in the back of his sweat-damp suit, clutching him like a lifeline.

Squeezing the nape of your neck in a silent gesture of comfort, he tucks you against his side before falling into step behind the two older men. It galls him to follow their lead instead of simply spiriting you away, but something in your father’s demeanor warns against open defiance. Better to hear them out.

You’re shown to a secluded room just off the main garage bay, fluorescent lights buzzing harshly overhead. The moment the door closes behind the four of you with a hollow thud, Toto whirls with an expression carved from thunderclouds.

“Get your filthy hands off my daughter,” he bites out, eyes flashing dangerously in Max’s direction.

White-hot fury races up Max’s spine, setting every nerve alight. His grip tightens fractionally where his palm is splayed against the dip of your lower back.

“Like hell,” he growls, edging closer until your slight frame is fully bracketed against his own. “She’s trembling because of you.”

“Oh, of course, I’m sure this has nothing to do with her being half out of her mind with Lord knows what substances,” Toto sneers. “A fine state to be wandering around the paddock in, isn’t it?”

Max feels you flinch violently against him at the blistering accusation, a wounded sound catching in the back of your throat. Something bright and violent surges in his chest at your obvious distress.

“How dare you,” he grits through clenched teeth, voice low and dangerous as he pulls you flush against his body. “She was perfectly content until you came along and started spouting such vile nonsense. She hasn’t touched anything, you miserable bastard.”

The insult hangs in the airless space as Toto’s complexion darkens several shades. He opens his mouth — no doubt to unleash a scathing volley — when the FIA official hastily interjects.

“Enough,” he cuts in sharply. “This behavior is unacceptable. If there has been some egregious violation, I must ask you both to lay out the facts as you know them so we might get to the bottom of this affair.”

Max’s nostrils flare sharply as he draws a steadying breath. He needs to keep a level head if only for your sake, to prevent this from spiraling any further out of control. Dipping his chin, he angles his mouth against the crown of your bowed head.

“Breathe, schatje,” he murmurs, one hand stroking soothingly up and down the quivering line of your spine as he holds your father’s shrewd gaze.

“There’s been no violation apart from Toto coming at his daughter completely unprovoked,” he asserts, voice steady and clipped. “Her current state is simply the result of being relaxed and free of negative thoughts, something I’d think any parent would want for their child.”

Toto scoffs indelicately, folding his arms across his chest. “Is that what you call completely zoned out and unresponsive? Don’t be absurd. I know perfectly well what that vacant look signifies — early morning drinking or worse. Trying to numb whatever guilt she’s wallowing in after throwing away her entire future like a petulant child.”

Max feels you stiffen, your nails digging half-moons into his bicep. Before he can retort, however, the official clears his throat once more.

“Ms. Wolff,” he addresses you directly. “I’m going to need you to confirm the situation from your own perspective. What is the cause of the … condition your father is alluding to?”

For a tense moment, there is only the sound of your ragged breathing filling the suffocating silence. Then, warm and tremulous, comes your voice muffled against Max’s collarbone.

“I … haven’t had anything. Really,” you insist shakily. “Max was just … helping me relax. Taking care of me like he always does.”

Toto makes a disgusted, disbelieving sound in the back of his throat, mouth already twisting in preparation to unleash another attack. But Max simply holds up a preemptive hand, wholly engrossed in studying the lines of strain bracketing your expression. His thumb grazes the flushed, tear-stained hollow of your cheek as he murmurs a gentle plea, voice dropping into that soft, honeyed register reserved solely for your ears.

“Tell me what you need, printsesse. How can I help chase those nasty thoughts away again?”

You blink up at him, pupils blown wide and irises over-bright, clearly struggling to hold his gaze. Max feels his heart clench at the naked torment written across your features as you falter, gnawing anxiously at that already mangled lower lip.

“I … can’t,” you whisper tremulously, a broken quality entering your tone. “It’s too loud. I can’t keep them quiet when he’s like this ...”

The vulnerable little admission lands like a physical blow, momentarily stealing Max’s breath. Gathering you closer, he brushes his mouth along the worry line creasing your forehead.

“I know, schatje, I know,” he soothes, cradling the back of your skull. “But you’re doing so well. So good for me, my sweet girl.”

Slanting his head, Max claims your lips in a slow kiss, trying to lose himself in the familiar glide of skin and breath. When he finally breaks away, you’re already chasing after him, eyes glazed and lips prettily swollen. He feels some of the knots in his gut begin to uncoil as he traces the delicate sweep of your cheekbone.

“Better?” He prods gently.

You make a soft, affirmative sound, nuzzling further into his palm. Max’s lips quirk despite the tension still coiled in his shoulders, relief trickling through him warm and heady.

“Let’s get out of here, hmm?” He suggests, punctuating the question with another lingering press of his mouth against your brow. “Back to the motorhome, just the two of us. You can fully relax again, keep your thoughts quiet and happy.”

Slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, he begins walking you backwards towards the exit, keeping his motions unhurried and soothing so as not to trigger another spiral.

“No,” Toto barks in a tone like shattered granite. “She is not going anywhere with you, Verstappen. If she is seriously this mentally addled, then she requires proper treatment, not … whatever sick fantasies you’ve allowed to fester in that depraved mind of yours.”

Max feels you shake like a leaf caught in a violent gale against him at your father’s harsh words. Clenching his jaw, he pivots to put himself bodily between you and that callous glare.

“You’re the one who’s sick if you think for a second I’d ever let anything hurt her,” he bites out in a tone laced with venom. “All I’ve done is try to give her the peace and respite she so desperately needs. If that’s a crime, then throw me in a fucking prison.”

Toto sneers, eyes glinting with undisguised contempt. “Don’t play the martyr with me. We both know exactly what kind of sordid games you’ve been playing while her mind is so clearly compromised.”

Max feels his face flush in outrage, desire to throttle your father warring with the need to keep you sheltered away from any further vitriol. He opens his mouth, another blistering retort balanced on the tip of his tongue, when a warm weight presses against his back.

Looking over his shoulder, he finds you peering up at him beseechingly, tears clinging to those thick lashes. Max’s expression immediately crumples into something infinitely softer, gentler around the edges.

“Please … I j-just want to go,” you stammer in a tiny voice, fingers bunching in his race suit. “No more yelling. I can’t … I c-can’t ...”

Your breath hitches in a wounded sound as your eyes skitter away from his, clouding over once more with panic and distress. It’s like a physical blow to Max’s ribs, stealing what little oxygen remains in the claustrophobic space.

Spinning on his heel, he crowds you backward until your trembling frame is braced against the wall. With an approximation of tenderness he hoped you’d find grounding, Max frames your face between his palms as he ducks his head, searching out your skittish gaze.

“Shh, hey … look at me, printsesse,” he croons, ducking to burrow his nose against your hairline. “Just focus on me, alright? That’s my good girl.”

He can feel the fine tremors wracking you even as he gentles your head into the crook of his neck, splaying one broad palm over the rapid flutter of your pulse. Max shushes you through another hiccuping sob, rocking your pliant weight against his as he whispers nonsensical endearments into your hair.

“You’re okay, it’s okay,” he soothes without ceasing the soothing motions. “I’ve got you. Deep breaths for me, there we go ...”

Gradually, he feels some of the tension ebb from your rigid muscles until you sag fully into his embrace, boneless and pliant once more. Risking a glance over his shoulder, Max finds Toto watching you with an inscrutable expression, frustration and something else he can’t quite name churning in those flinty eyes.

Uncaring of his scrutiny, Max returns his attention to mapping the curves of your face with reverent fingers, gentling you back into that headspace of tranquil bliss.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmurs against the seam of your lips. “Let everything else just … drift away. We’re going back to our sanctuary, yeah? Nice and peaceful, with all those thoughts gone quiet where they belong.”

He can see the worry lines slowly beginning to smooth from your brow, tension bleeding from your frame as his words seep in like a balm. Smiling softly, Max dips his head to capture your mouth in a series of deep, lingering kisses, savoring the addictive little sounds you make against his questing tongue.

“Mr. Verstappen,” a gruff voice cuts in, effectively shattering the lush, private bubble.

Tearing his lips from yours with obvious reluctance, Max twists to slant a scathing glare at the FIA official. He keeps one arm locked securely around your waist, refusing to relinquish an inch of the soothing skin-to-skin contact despite the interruption.

The official holds up a placating hand. “I’m going to have to ask you both to exit the premises for the time being. At least until whatever … this situation is has been resolved to a reasonable degree.”

Max opens his mouth to protest, but you choose that moment to whine softly, nosing against his jaw in search of his lips once more. A hot lance of protectiveness surges through his core. Swallowing back the words on the tip of his tongue, he gives a terse nod.

“We’re leaving. Don’t try to touch her again.”

He punctuates the thinly veiled warning by curling possessively around your smaller frame, tucking you against his side as he propels you towards the door with urgency. You keep up easily enough, still deliciously pliant and soothed by his touch if the lingering glazed look in your eyes is anything to go bye.

As the heavy door clicks shut behind you, Max doesn’t spare a backwards glance. His sole focus is getting you back to the sanctity of his private quarters, away from the scrutiny and toxicity currently swirling in the paddock. One hand splays protectively over the dip of your waist as you move, the other coming up to shelter the back of your head.

“Nearly there, schatje,” he murmurs into your hairline as he blankets you in the solid warmth of his body. “Just a bit further and we’ll be all alone, just how you like it.”

You hum in what he chooses to interpret as agreement, pushing up onto your toes to nose along the sharp line of his jaw. Max groans low in his throat, slowing his strides so he can tug you abruptly into his chest. Your mouth falls open on a soft gasp, which he eagerly swallows with a filthy slide of his tongue.

When he finally wrenches himself away, you’re panting and glassy-eyed, lips bitten and swollen to a lush pout. Tutting under his breath, Max traces the abused swell with the pad of his thumb, pupils darkening to fathomless black pools as he drinks in your wanton appearance.

“Need to stop doing that, sweet thing,” he chides in a low rasp. “Don’t want to tempt me into having my way you right here in the corridor, now do we?”

Twin spots of color immediately bloom in your cheeks as you emit a strangled little sound, thighs clenching convulsively for a dizzying heartbeat. He chuckles, low and wicked, before slanting his mouth over that sinful jut of your lower lip, sucking the swollen flesh between his teeth.

“Soon,” he vows roughly, nipping at the tender skin. “We’ll be alone and I can take care of that delicious ache properly. Would you like that, printsesse? To let me coax all those nasty thoughts back into pretty oblivion?”

You make a small, wanting sound against the sweep of his tongue, fingers clenching convulsively in the fabric of his race suit. Max hums in wordless approval, momentarily losing himself in reacquainting his senses with every lush corner of your mouth.

It isn’t until Max feels the hard planes of his driver’s room door against his back that he bothers dragging himself from the sensual haze. Panting harshly, he brushes a strand of sweat-dampened hair from your flushed brow, unable to resist dipping in for one more searing, open-mouthed kiss.

“Inside,” he growls when you part with a trembling inhale. “Now.”

You nod jerkily, eyes glassy and unfocused even as you chase his lips with a tiny, needy noise. Max gentles you backwards over the threshold with firm, steadying hands until you’re situated within the blessedly muffled quiet of his temporary sanctuary.

Distantly, he registers the faint sounds of celebration filtering up from the track, but they seem muffled and inconsequential compared to the rapid beat of your pulse beneath his palms.

Trailing one hand up the slender column of your throat, Max tilts your chin until your gaze meets his own. “You’re alright now, sweet girl,” he soothes, tracing the line of your lower lip. “Just us, safe and sound away from all the noise.”

You make a soft sound of agreement, instinctively pressing closer until your bodies are flush, every pliant curve molded to his hard planes. Max groans at the exquisite friction, hands spanning your waist to tug you even tighter against his burgeoning arousal.

“That’s it, stay right here with me,” he rumbles against the swell of your parted lips. “Let everything else drift away until there’s nothing left but my voice in that pretty head.”

Slanting his mouth over yours, Max proceeds to chase every lingering thread of tension from your frame with deep, indulgent sweeps of his tongue. He maps every intimate detail until you’re pliant and breathy in his arms once more, limp and trusting as a ragdoll.

“Good girl,” he praises roughly when you finally part, resting his brow against yours. “You’re doing so well, staying nice and floaty for me even after … everything.”

You blink up at him, that soft, dreamy haze already stealing back over your features. Max’s chest constricts powerfully at the naked adoration shining back at him, the implicit trust written in every fluid line of your body.

“Max ...” you breathe, the single syllable somehow encompassing a wealth of devotion and longing.

He hushes you gently with another toe-curling kiss, reveling in the way your mouth instantly softens and opens for the insistent sweep of his tongue. When he finally pulls back, the rigid lines of strain have melted from your expression, leaving only that beloved, blissful tranquility in their wake.

“There you are,” Max rumbles in approval, thumbing away the dampness still clinging to those long lashes. “My sweet, gorgeous girl. Nothing but beauty and peace between those lovely ears.”

You make a small, incoherent sound of agreement, already drifting back into that lush, thoughtless headspace under his ministrations. Unable to resist, Max ducks his head to mouth along the line of your throat, laving hot, openmouthed kisses over the wildly fluttering pulse point.

“I’ve got you, schatje,” he mutters between kitten licks and nips. “Not going to let a single ugly thought spoil this lovely blank canvas. You’re perfect like this, all soft and sweet with nothing rattling around in that pretty head but oblivion.”

His words seem to spur a full-body tremor that ricochets through your slender frame. You whimper brokenly against the crown of his hair, hips stuttering forward in mute pleading as your nails score desperate half-moons against the taut cords of his biceps.

“Please,” you whisper in a wrecked tone that goes straight to Max’s groin. “Need you ...”

“Soon, printsesse,” he promises in a low rasp. Though it takes every ounce of his negligible restraint, he continues blazing a scorching path down the exposed column of your neck and across the elegant jut of your collarbones instead of hauling you against him. “Let me take care of you properly first, yeah? Want you floaty and boneless for me.”

You make a whimpery sound of agreement, one hand uncurling to fist in the damp hair at his nape. Max hisses at the sharp sting, retaliating by capturing the pulse fluttering in the hollow of your throat between his teeth. He nips at the tender flesh until your breath is coming in shallow, hitching gasps, every muscle turned liquid and quivering in his arms.

“Good,” he croons in approval once you’re thoroughly debauched, sparing a moment to take in your wrecked appearance with heated appreciation. “My perfect girl, so prettily unraveled for me already.”

With exquisite care, he traces the bow of your lips with the calloused pad of his thumb until they part on a shuddery indrawn breath.

“Stay just like this,” he rumbles in that same dark timbre. “Let your mind drift. Never been more beautiful than when your thoughts are gone all hazy like this.”

You blink up at him, plush lower lip caught between your teeth in that completely docile way. Max rewards your compliance by angling your head to the side, nosing at your neck as he breathes deep of your tantalizing scent.

His hands skate down in blazing trails until they settle with light possessiveness at your waist, bracketing you fully against the solid wall of his chest. You keen softly at the contact, arching on pure instinct as you go pliant in his embrace.

“That’s it,” Max praises, hot and heated against the sensitive hollow below your ear. “Just let it all drift away while I make you feel good.”

Dipping his chin, he seals his mouth over yours in a series of drugging kisses, spine going liquid at your breathy whimpers. He loses track of everything — time, the muted noises of celebration filtering in from outside, even his own name — as his entire universe narrows to the slick glide of your tongue, the warmth of your body twining insistently around his own.

When he finally drags himself back from the precipice of mindless want, you’re boneless in his arms, flushed and trembling and so exquisitely unraveled. Max rakes his teeth over his lower lip as he takes in the picture you make — hair hopelessly tousled, lips swollen to an obscene pout, eyes glassy and dazed as they struggle to focus on his face.

“Look at you,” he husks in mingled awe and possessive pride. “Gone all sweet and floaty again, hmm? Not a single thought left in this little head of yours.”

As if in confirmation, you slur out a low, affirmative hum, butting your flushed cheek against his sternum in search of more contact. The sight sends a hot pulse of want ricocheting through Max’s veins. He barely tamps down a groan as he crushes you closer, driving your pliant body into the solid surface at your back.

“Beautiful, inside and out,” he rasps against the slick curve of your throat. “Every inch of you is perfect like this, schatje, and I’m the luckiest bastard alive to be the one allowed to see you come so utterly undone.”

***

Three Months Later

Toto rounds the corner onto one of Monaco’s picture-perfect side streets, the warm afternoon sunlight filtering through the canopy of leafy trees lining the cobblestones. His strides are clipped and purposeful as he navigates the throngs of lingering brunchers and slack jawed tourists.

He’s due for a terse meeting with several FIA officials in half an hour’s time to hash out the latest regulatory adjustments for next season. Not exactly how he’d envisioned spending his free weekend in the principality, but such was the relentless reality of his position.

As he approaches a charming little bistro tucked into a sunlit alcove, something within the open-air seating area snags his peripheral attention. Toto’s steps falter as a very familiar figure swims into focus — a beautiful young woman with features he knows better than his own.

You.

His stomach churns violently as he instinctively follows your line of sight to the man tucked intimately against your side. Max freaking Verstappen, of course, lounging there like he hasn’t a care in the world with one arm slung proprietarily across the back of your chair.

Toto feels his jaw clench harder with every passing second as he reluctantly catalogs the scene playing out not twenty paces away. You’re turned towards the Red Bull driver in clear invitation, chin tilted up and lips slightly parted in apparent submission as he lifts a forkful of food to your waiting mouth.

Despite the simmer of nausea roiling in his gut, Toto can’t seem to tear his gaze away, some morbid fascination taking hold. He watches, bile burning at the back of his throat, as Verstappen tips the bite between your lips with a gentleness that borders on reverence. A blissful sort of smile curves your mouth as you chew, eyes drifting to shut in an expression of utter serenity.

When you finally swallow, Verstappen leans in to chase the lingering crumbs from your lips with a series of indulgent, smoldering kisses. You allow it with blasé ease, cheeks flushing prettily as he nuzzles deeper into the cradle of your throat.

“Sickening,” Toto mutters through gritted teeth, only to have the words choked off as your breathy giggle floats across the open space between you.

He’s frozen in place, jaw clamped shut and eyes blazing, as Verstappen captures your face in one broad palm with a wicked curl to his lips. Leaning in until your noses brush, he appears to rumble something too faint to carry over the ambient chatter.

Your responding smile is incandescent enough to momentarily steal Toto’s breath. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen such pure joy light up those beloved features — not since those early summer afternoons when you were barely tall enough to see over the mechanics’ workbenches, giggling as he spun you in looping circles around the garage.

The imagery dissipates like smoke in a strong wind as Verstappen slants his mouth over yours, mercilessly chasing every last vestige of warmth and innocence until you’re left utterly ravaged. You drink him in with all the unrestrained fervor of the desperately parched, breaths coming in harsh little pants between every slick glide of lips and tongue.

Toto can only look on in mute revulsion as the Red Bull bastard sets about methodically staking his claim. One broad palm spans the curve of your jaw to better angle your head while the other strokes in bold caresses down the line of your arm and hip, searing brand of possession seared across every inch of skin. You arch into the contact, boneless and malleable beneath his sure ministrations.

When Verstappen finally releases you, your lips are bright and bitten, pupils blown wide into unfocused pools. Max clucks his tongue in wordless approval, thumbing away the dampness clinging to your lower lashes before dipping in for one more lingering peck.

A strangled noise startles from Toto’s throat despite his best efforts. Instantly, those predator’s eyes swing towards him, glittering with something perilously close to challenge.

Your gaze follows a moment later, drifting over Toto’s rigid stance in lazy, disinterested consideration. He expects a flicker of chagrin, even fleeting shame to ripple across your expression at being caught so indecently compromised. Instead, your lips curve into that same serene, soppy beam as you burrow deeper into Verstappen’s side.

The world seems to tilt sickeningly sideways as Toto watches his own flesh and blood regard him like a stranger, a foreign entity to be blithely disregarded. Verstappen, for his part, tilts his head in an almost confrontational motion as his fingers begin carding through your hair with a revolting air of indulgent possession.

Toto wants to scream, to rage and howl until someone — anyone — understands the utter travesty of what he’s just witnessed. But something has knotted itself viciously around his vocal cords so that all he can seem to produce is a low, garbled rasp.

So he turns on his heel instead, gritting his teeth against the swell of fury threatening to choke him from the inside out as he stalks away. Every step rebounds through his hollow ribcage with echoing finality, punctuated by the sickly sweet chime of your laughter ringing in his wake.

He can’t even recognize his daughter anymore. And, much to his disgust, you seem to prefer it that way.

[nebulaafterdark]

Marry Me

Summary : Rhaenyra’s daughter is off limits, but Aegon won’t allow her to marry anyone else. Based off this request.

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Princess Y/N Velaryon is easily the most beautiful woman to grace the seven kingdoms, by all counts of every Lord and Lady.

Alicent reminds her son often, “she cannot speak. There is more to it than the King lets on and we’ve no way of knowing if the same condition will be present in her heirs.”

“Y/N has plenty to say, to those who will listen.” She does not speak with her voice, but through written word, through her eyes, her laugh and her smile.

“I’ve said no.” Alicent snaps, “it is out of the question.” She slams his chamber door shut behind her.

Still Aegon makes it a point to check in with the Princess, to be kind. Even if they cannot marry, surely they can be friends.

This day, she is nose deep in a book when Aegon spots her in the gardens. “What book is that now?” He asks.

Y/N smiles, lifting the bound pages to present the spine.

“A Tale Of Two…” He cocks his head to the side to make out the rest of the title, “Dragons.“

She nods.

“Is it any good?” Aegon wonders, taking a seat beside her in the grass.

Y/N slides the open page into his lap, pointing to a passage on the left.

“A love story,” he realizes.

Y/N stares down at her hands.

Aegon taps a finger to her chin, “you should write a book.”

She shakes her head.

“I would read it.” He tells her truthfully, taking in the full effect of her peach colored gown in the afternoon sun.

The princess returns her attention to the book pages.

————————————————————————

Some weeks later, Cregan Stark arrives from the North, on behalf of his house, to negotiate a potential alliance with the Riverlands which the King has the final say in.

Viserys hosts a feast in Stark’s honor, followed by festivities in the grand hall.

Aegon is polite enough when Cregan comes to collect wine from the table.

“I could not help but notice the Princess while you were dancing.” Stark says, making harmless conversation.

“Y/N,” Aegon smiles, fondly.

“She is beautiful.” Cregan is equally entranced, “I must speak to her.”

“She does not speak.” Aegon reaches a hand out to stop him, with a forced grin.

“To you or to anyone?” Stark continues staring at Y/N over Aegon’s head.

“To anyone,” Aegon tells him. If she did speak, it would be to him first. Not some stranger.

“Well that’s no matter.” He pats Aegon once on the shoulder, “I’m going to introduce myself.”

Aegon stares, eyes wide as Stark crosses the room to Y/N.

Taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “Cregan Stark, your grace.”

Y/N smiles, nodding her head in acknowledgement.

“This is my darling daughter, Y/N.” Rhaenyra says, proudly. Brushing dark waves behind her daughter’s ear.

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance.” Cregan says, “I was wondering if you might like to dance.”

Y/N nods, allowing him to lead her out onto the floor.

Aegon reaches for another cup, drowning his sadness in it.

“That is a fine match.” King Viserys says, watching them from his chair.

“Indeed, Husband.” Alicent agrees.

“Mayhaps a betrothal, in time.” Rhaenyra beams at her father.

————————————————————————

Each day Stark comes to Y/N with an offer of courtship, a new way they might spend time together. He appears to her with flowers, and little gifts he’s acquired from the North. He tells stories of his homeland and the things they might do together, as Aegon plots his murder.

Squeezing his glass so forcefully at supper that night it shatters in his grasp.

“Aegon!” Viserys shouts, as the red wine bleeds onto the dinner table.

Y/N pushes away from the table, rounding the line of chairs to his side. Plucking shards of glass from his skin, with her bare hands and covering his bloody palm with the pristine white fabric of her napkin. She stares at him, expectantly.

Aegon sighs, with a shake of his head. Leaving the dinner table, quietly. Sometimes, it is best not to speak, especially when no one cares what you have to say.

————————————————————————

In the week that follows, Aegon becomes more withdrawn.

Y/N can’t help but think it is something she’s done. Mayhaps their friendship is not something that interests him any longer. Which will make it easier now that Cregan has asked for her hand.

When Alicent gathers her children to break the news that the official betrothal will be celebrated that night, Aegon nearly refuses to attend the procession.

Do they truly expect him to sit there and be merry as Y/N is given away to a near stranger?

Y/N taps her mother’s hand anxiously, before the announcement is made.

“It’s alright,” Rhaenyra assures her, “there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Y/N shakes her head.

“You must marry, sweet girl. Cregan is a good man, he will treat you well.”

Her eyes plead with her mother.

“Who then?” Rhaenyra sighs.

The woman’s gaze flits to Aegon across the room, staring at her with clenched fists.

Aegon inhales sharply, moving toward her on unsteady legs.

“Don’t you dare.” Alicent catches his arm, but it is too late.

Aegon tears his arm free, Y/N is already moving toward him. Pulled together by some invisible force, neither one can explain. “Y/N, I first wish to apologize for the distance between us as of late.”

Y/N’s eyes soften, alight with a fondness reserved only for Aegon.

“But I do not want some Stark bringing you flowers. I want to do it. I cannot stand the sight of you dancing with him when I want to dance with you. I do not begrudge you happiness but I…I love you and I’d like you to be happy with me.” Aegon drops to his knees, “marry me.”

“Aegon!” Alicent protests, only to be silenced by her husband, the king.

“Please.” Aegon says, ignoring his mother’s outburst.

Y/N tugs at his hand, until he stands. Her eyes searching his.

Aegon cups her face in his hands, chest heaving with nerves. “You will want for nothing so long as I live, I swear.”

Y/N rests her hands over his, nodding.

“Yes?” Aegon stammers, “you’ll marry me?”

Another nod and blinding smile.

He pulls her into his arms. “Thank you.”

Y/N holds him just as tightly, tapping at his back a moment later.

“What is it, my heart?” He pulls back, ever so slightly.

Y/N presses her lips to his, sealing the deal.

[sturnsreckless]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒,, m. sturniolo

summary: matt feels like you aren’t considering his feelings and not putting as much effort into your relationship as he is, so he brings it up to you which results in conflict but was quick to be resolved

cw: angst. crying, resolved angst, arguing

a/n: this is really long so for my angst lovers, enjoy

you and matt had never had an argument as big as this. yous had had small disagreements and quarrels, which were solved in minutes. never huge fights. never the way it is going on right now.

you both had been trying to juggle your lives also while trying to maintain a happy, healthy relationship. which isn’t easy. with that, you were both on the brink of breaking down any moment now. but instead of that, your emotions turned into a big fight. not a good one.

today, you weren’t working in the office and matt wasnt out filming with his brothers. he wasn’t in the best of moods right now, you were too in your head. the perfect cause of a disaster. throughout the whole day, small things kept on building and building until everything went down hill after dinner.

you had been washing you and matt’s dishes, he cleaning up all the other little things. when he had made a snarky comment about how good of a sight it was seeing you finally cleaning up, had made you snap.

you had been moaning about it for a good hour, screaming at one another in the kitchen attempting to get your feelings out some sort of way.

“i just don’t fucking get it sometimes,” matt spat at you, “it’s like all you care and think about is yourself.”

“what?! what the fuck are you even saying?!” you yelled, the anger that had slightly died down was rising straight back up.

“you are the most narcissistic, self-centred, most selfish person i have ever met,” matt said through gritted teeth, “you never think about me. you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

he took a step closer to you as you slammed the dish you were cleaning down, “you’re the one that’s inconsiderate, not me” he says.

“are you fucking kidding me? don’t talk to me like that ever again, asshole!” you said squinting your eyes at him.

a bitter laugh left matt’s lips, walking right up to you and looking down at you, “i’ll say whatever i want, sweetheart. because for once i’ve reached a fucking breaking point.”

“leave then. fucking leave then, if this is such a problem!” you yell in his face.

you were telling him to leave but this was his house that he shared with his two brothers. nick and chris.

“this is my fucking house. but i will leave!” matt yelled back, “maybe i will just leave and you can spend the rest of your life being the most inconsiderate, selfish jackass on the planet! maybe ill just go find someone who actually values me!”

“are you kidding me right now? are you implying that you’ve been fucking cheating on me?!” you raise your voice in disbelief.

matt hadn’t cheated on you. you just took his words the wrong way.

“no! it was hypothetical! if you’d let me finish, you’d know that!” matt snapped back, “i wouldn’t cheat on you, i love you!”

you were taken aback by his statement, “well, the things you’re fucking saying to me right now don’t scream ‘i love you’ very much!”

“i do love you!” matt snapped, “but god! why are you so selfish, so egotistical, and so inconsiderate! how many times do i have to say it for it to go through your thick, stubborn skull?!”

you scoff, “i’m egotistical? you’re the one that thinks you’re better than everyone else because you make a bag off making shit youtube videos! you constantly think you’re one better than everyone else, matt!”

“i don’t think im better than everyone else! im proud of my work, what the fuck is wrong with that?! i’m proud that i was able to take my passion and make myself a career out of it! i get to play my favourite games and do what i love for a living and have it supported me all while i provide for you too? how is many of that wrong?!”

you furrow your brows at the last part of his sentence, “you provide for me? i’ve got my own job, that i got by myself! i don’t need your fucking money.”

“you live in my house! i pay the bills. you can’t even provide for yourself when you make chump change in a month!” matt was absolutely fuming at this point, taking another step towards you.

you felt hurt at what he said, but you didn’t let it affect the way you presented yourself, “what?! are you fucking kidding me right now? you’re the biggest shit talker and dick head i’ve ever met!”

“no, the biggest dick head you’ve ever met is you! you, with you’re self-righteous ego and narcissistic thought process! i’ve met so many assholes in my life, but no one has even come close to how much of a jerk you are!” matt spat, “i’ve put so many hours into this relationship. i’ve given you everything just for you to come back and act like i don’t care about you, and call me the dickhead?”

you sigh as you think about how much stuff you have to have done by tomorrow, “matt, i don’t have time for this right now!”

“oh, no! i think we have plenty of time for this!” matt said as he slammed his palms on the counter, “we aren’t leaving this kitchen until you can look at me and tell me you truly love me, and that you’re sorry for all the bullshit you’ve been saying!”

you stared in disbelief at what was coming out of his mouth right now, “bullshit i’ve been saying?! you’ve said so much worse than i have, so if it’s anyone that needs an apology it’s me! but i’m not fucking pathetic enough to beg someone for some half-assed apology!”

“bullshit? i’ve been telling the truth this whole entire time!” matt said, you are selfish, you are inconsiderate, you are narcissistic. everything i’ve said is true! and don’t worry, sweetheart. you wouldn’t have to beg me for an apology from me, i’d refuse to give you one, just as you’ve been doing to me this entire time!”

you felt sick to your stomach from what matt was letting fall off his tongue like venom, “why are you with me then?! and done even say ‘it’s because i love you’ because that’s bullshit, because you don’t. if you did you wouldn’t say this whether it’s true or not!”

“i do love you! i love you so fucking much, you don’t even know!” the anger on matt’s face soon gave way to sadness, “i’m just sick of your disregarding my feelings. i’m sick of you being so careless about how i feel or what i want. i’m sick of feeling like the only one that’s pouring my all into this relationship. i’m just tired… it hurts… it hurts me that you never even give me a second thought, even though i have you on my mind at all times.”

“that’s not true at all matt! i do put my all into this relationship and i will give it my last no matter what. i love you more than i can even describe so don’t even fucking doubt that! and give me two times i disregarded your feelings, because i dont!”

“every time i ask you to make dinner so i can do some planning when i come home from filming, you don’t do it! you just brush me off and say you’re too busy or tired! or what about the times i have to beg you to give me some time alone, that i haven’t gotten any privacy in forever. yet you still barge right in when i shut the door and you just start yapping to me!”

“matt you’re not the only one with problems, you know! and i do make us dinner and when i do barge in there’s always a good reason, so don’t even start that!” you spit.

“yes i know that! and i try to help you with your problems when you talk to me about them! but when i come to you with how i feel, you just say you’re too busy to listen to me and that we’ll talk later. but we never do!” matt speaks.

“because when later comes, i always find out that you’re at parties posting up with a bunch of girls. or you’re sitting in a car with nick and chris!” you let roll off your tongue.

“i’d have time for you if you weren’t such a cold, detached person!” matt fires back, “and i’m not ‘sitting in a car’ with nick and chris! we’re working!”

“don’t you ever just think, oh i’m actually in a really good work position compared to other people. because i don’t know if you’ve realised but you don’t need to deal with people constantly blaming you for everything in work because you’re the youngest and easiest to blame and degrade! that is why im always so busy and tired, im constantly cleaning up the shit that you leaving lying about while also juggling my paperwork that i have to do at home!”

“yeah, well you have no idea what it’s like to be a full-time youtuber!” matt said, “i have to keep my fans happy, make videos, do collabs with other creators, all while having my own life! and whenever i come home after being out all day, what do i come home to every time? you sitting on the sofa, on your phone, and not even thinking about what i might want or need after i’ve been busting my ass all day!”

your jaw drops slightly with a puzzled expression on your face, “are you fucking with me? you’re not a child matt, you can do things on your own. just because i’m home before you sometimes does not mean i will be your slave! and if you do, fucking think again!”

“i don’t want a slave! i want my girlfriend! i want someone who cares about me! i want the one i love to put me before anything else!” matt was getting agitated, his eyes starting to water.

“i do matt! i do put you before everything, i try my hardest! i ruin my own mental health for you!” you say with tears running down your face.

“it doesn’t feel like you do!” matt said, “you’re always so distant! you’re always so cold and you never show me any affection! and i’m not asking for much! a kiss every now and again would be nice! you don’t even say you love me unless i say to first!”

you let out a sad sigh, “what do you mean? i kiss you every day! i say i love you all the fucking time!”

“you never do it first though! i’m the only one that ever initiates anything! im the one that is always showing affection! the other day i just wanted a hug after filming and you gave me a one-armed side-hug!”

you rub your eyes out of exhaustion, “matt, i’m tired!”

“i’m tired too!” matt snapped, his voice getting louder now, “im exhausted! im working my ass off to make us money and to make you happy and i get nothing but complaints and coldness in return!”

you whined before huffing out words, “i’m not complaining, you’re the only one complaining right now!”

“yes because you never listen to me!” matt nearly yelled, “im trying to tell you how i actually feel! im opening up and being completely vulnerable with you, you just shoot down every single thing i say! all i want is for you to care!”

“matt i do! i care so fucking much it hurts. i love you more than anything! i left my life in florida to come and stay with you full-time because i knew you didn’t want a long-distance relationship. so if that’s not me considering your feelings then i don’t know what is!”

“i never asked you to move here.” matt said through clenched teeth, “yes, i asked you to move in for the summer, and i get you had a shitty family, but you never had to transfer your job and move your entire life here! you never had to put yourself in a stressful and expressive situation, you did that yourself!”

“no i didn’t! don’t get me wrong i love being here with you, nick and chris. i fucking love it! but it’s really hard sometimes! and i get you’re going through hard times too with your family being in boston but you have open arms everywhere around LA, i don’t, that’s the difference! that is why im so cold and defensive sometimes! im scared to trust!”

“why can’t you trust me?!” matt yelled, “you’ve lived here for a year now! i’ve given you everything just for you to say that you don’t trust me! after all i’ve done for you, after all i’ve given up to make you happy, i still get this kind of bullshit from you!”

you panicked since matt had took what you said the wrong way, “i didn’t say that, baby! i said it’s hard for me to trust anyone other than you!”

“so what does that mean?” matt asked, “i don’t deserve your trust? you don’t trust me when i tell you i love you?”

“it means that i’m bottling everything up inside of me because i don’t trust anyone else other than you because i don’t want to put the stress onto you! i feel like you don’t understand what im going through, which is totally fine, but you don’t ever keep that in mind! yes, you’re going through a hard time too but i am too and you need to think about that when you say things to me. you’re not the only person fucking struggling!”

“no, i get that!” matt argued back, “we’re both going through stuff, but the difference is i make time for you! i make sure that your needs are still met when i have time! you on the other hand disregard my feelings and my wants! you never even try to understand my side, while im constantly trying to get you to understand! and now that i’ve finally gotten you to listen, you’re still saying im wrong!”

“i’m sorry matt! i don’t know what else you want from me, im falling apart over here!”

“i want you! i just want you to love me the way you say you do!” matt said, “i want you to show me, physically, that you care about me! i want you to show me that im a priority in your life, just like you’re a priority in mine!”

“i do care about you! i just go through rough patches where i don’t realise that im not showing you how much i care and love you!”

“why not tell me when you’re going through rough patches? if you’re struggling, then why don’t you tell me so i can be there for you! i’d never think of you any differently, i’d never think to call you selfish or inconsiderate! all you have to do is let me in!” matt exclaims with frustration.

“and that’s one of the hardest things for me to do! it takes time to let people in when you grow up the way i did, when you were constantly told your feelings didn’t matter and if you told people that you were struggling they would think differently of you! and i’m not saying all this for you to feel sorry for me, i’m saying this so you can try and understand it from my perspective.” you explain with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i do understand! i do understand that you’ve had a hard life and it’s hard to trust and open up, but im not asking you to tell me every single thing that’s ever happened to you and that you’ve ever felt! im asking you to just tell me you miss me, or that you’re upset, or that you’re feeling angry or sad or frustrated! i’m asking you to open up just a little bit so i can do my best and try to show you that i love you!”

you tilt your head back and place your hands over your face before whimpering and tilting your head forward again, “and i’m trying matt!”

“i know you are!” matt said, his voice losing the edge as he looked at your tear stained face with empathy. he took a step closer to you and laid his hands gingerly on your shoulders, “i know you’re trying, i do, and it’s not fair for me to expect you to just completely open up overnight, but you’re tearing me apart too! i’m so worn out and tired from trying to get you to show me that my feelings matter to you!”

you hiccup just before you begin to talk, “i’m really trying to be better matt, i am! and i know what you want from me but it takes time. a lot of time. so please, just give me time and and you’ll get what you want in this relationship. and i’ll give you it whether it wipes me out or not!”

“how much time do i have to give you?” matt sighed, “i’ve given you nearly a year of time. i’ve been trying so hard this entire time to break through whatever wall you have up, and after a year you’re still telling me to wait? i can’t keep waiting forever!”

“i know and it’s not fair on you but it also isn’t fair on me to give you something im not ready for!” you whimper before sighing sadly.

“then what am i supposed to do?” matt exclaimed, stepping backwards and running his fingers through his hair, “if you’re not at a place that you can give me what i need in a relationship, when do you foresee yourself being there? another year? two? never?!”

“i don’t know! that is what i need to figure out and you to trust me on, but it’s hard!” you cry out.

“i’m doing my best to make this easy, but you still keep pushing back when i try to get anything out of you!” matt was frowning frustrated again, taking his hands to his face and massaging his eyes, “im just so tired of trying! i’m at my wits end!”

“matt, im sorry!”

“sorry isn’t good enough anymore!” matt almost shouted, “i don’t want another half-assed apology! that’s all you’ve given me our entire relationship, and it isn’t good enough!”

you internally groan, “matt, it’s not half-assed! i’m being considerate.”

“considerate of who? me? yourself?” matt spat, the anger in his voice returning, “because it seems like you’re trying to avoid having to do any work in our relationship and just want me to accept that you’re not ready!”

“well i don’t know what else you want me to do! because im seriously trying but you’re not giving me the time i need and that just takes us back to square one, baby!” you whine, wiping the tears that is running down your chin.

“but you’re not giving me anything to go off of!” matt’s voice was reaching high octive, the anger and exhaustion on his face evident, “i’ve been trying this entire time and every single time i tell you how i’m feeling you push my away. you ask me to give you time, and what exactly am i supposed to do while i wait other than be miserable?!”

your heart drops, “matt, baby… please. don’t give up on me.” you say your voice and heart breaking all at once.

“i don’t want to give up on you… i don’t!” matt said, the anger leaving his body as he watched your own sadness. he took a step towards you before suddenly wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you into his chest, “i’m just so tired…” he whispered into your hair.

you sniffle before replying, “me too…”

matt didn’t say anything else, he just held onto you tight and buried his face in your hair. he squeezed you as tight as he closed his eyes and tried to get himself back under control.

there was a long heavy moment of silence that fell over the kitchen before matt finally spoke again, voice low.

“i’m sorry. im sorry im putting so much pressure on you, and you’re not ready. im sorry im losing my patience. i love you so much, but i just want to feel loved too… i want to hear you say it…”

“i love you, so fucking much.” whisper into his chest as you close your eyes, tears spilling out.

matt squeezed you tighter at your words, one of his hands reaching around to touch the back of your head in a protective hold. he rested his chin on top of your head, burying his face in the top of it as he closed his eyes again and inhaled the familiar scent of your shampoo. you could feel his body relax as you spoke, the tension leaving his tired and wear muscles.

“i love you too… i love you so much, even when you drive me crazy…”

“i’m really sorry for making you feel like this… i don’t mean it. i swear. it’s just… i just fuck up everything i do.”

“shhh…” matt hushed you, his hand massaging the back of your head in a soothing manner, “you don’t have to apologise for how you feel. i’m sorry for getting angry at you, i just want you to love me the same way i love you and i got frustrated and impatient.”

“but i fucked up our relationship…” you insecurely whispered into his chest.

“you may have said or done things that weren’t the best, but you haven’t completely ruined this relationship, sweetheart.” matt said quietly, pulling back now so he can look down at your tear stained face.

one of his hands came up to your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away one of the droplets.

“but i have or else we wouldn’t be having this argument…” you whispered.

“arguments are apart of every relationship, baby. this is natural, especially for us.” matt said, his tone gentle as he spoke, “this doesn’t mean you’ve completely ruined us. i still love you, and im sure you still love me.”

“of course i do, and don’t ever doubt it” you say shaking your head and looking down to the ground in embarrassment and shame that you caused this huge argument.

“hey,” matt spoke quietly as he took one of his fingers and placed it under your chin so he could lift it up, forcing you to look at him, “look at me baby,”

“hm?” you hum as you look up at him with a saddened look on your face.

his expression was so much softer than before, the exhaustion and the anger now replaced with love and concern. matt’s eyes searched your face as he kept his hand under you chin to hold you head up.

“i want you to listen to me and really hear me, okay?” he said in a soft and calm voice.

“okay” you whisper groggily due to the waterworks from before, and licking your dry lips.

“i love you. no matter how many times i get angry, or frustrated, or exhausted, i love you more than you will ever truly know. you haven’t ruined this. i haven’t lost my love or trust for you.” matt began to say, keeping his eyes fixed on yours, “i don’t ever want you to think that i don’t love you because i do. all i want is for you to try and meet me where i am, okay?”

“i love you. and im sorry for not doing what you expected from me. thank you for giving me a second chance, i don’t deserve you.” you say as another few tears spill out of your eyes.

“i don’t expect you to be perfect, sweetheart. i know you’ve gone through things and that’s what makes you human, but i know you still love me.” he whispered calmly.

matt dropped his hand from your chin to wrap around your waist again, and he gently pulled you forward to press you against his chest once more, his chin resting on top of your head and his arms wrapped around you in a firm hold.

“i love you” you whisper into his chest for the tenth time today, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips, matt returned the kiss with gentle fervour, before burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

he held you tight, his body relaxing and conforming to your form as he held you close to him, enjoying the feeling of your body against his.

@sturnsreckless

[honeytae]

you’ll let me?

pairing : shy!oc x shy!jk, est. relationship

genre : smut

wc : 2.9k

warnings : minors dni! descriptions of making out, dry humping, cunnilingus and vaginal penetration all below the cut. jk has an oral fixation bc duh, also he’s wearing calvin’s bc i couldn’t help myself. author makes far too many 3D lyric puns but to be fair i had it on repeat </3

the last text jungkook sent was staring back at you on your phone screen, and you never knew how deeply such a simple question could impact you.

can i come over?

biting your bottom lip, you cursed as he started typing again, then quickly disappeared from the chat.

you never wanted to make him feel rejected, but sometimes you think it’s better off. teasing him was easy…effortless, even, over text. when you were with him in person, you turned into some timid little girl around her very first crush.

sighing, you begin typing a response, some bullshit excuse about it being a long day and needing some sleep. before you hit send, you set your phone down, rolling your neck and staring at the ceiling in thought.

admittedly, he’s all you can think about. how pretty his eyes are, how they sparkle when he smiles at you or laughs at one of your dumb jokes. how soft his lips feel when briefly pressed against your own since he’s such a fucking gentleman all the damn time and won’t take it further unless you make the first move.

you want him. and you’re tired of pretending you don’t.

fuck it.

a repetitive clicking sounded from your phone as you held your finger on the backspace button, deleting your previous unsent response.

yes please :)

you feel your pulse speed up as you press send on your revised message, unable to suppress your giddiness when you get an immediate response.

on my way :)

the minutes feel like hours while you wait for your boyfriend to arrive.

your head snaps up when you finally hear the rapping of knuckles on hard wood, nearly stumbling over the carpet as you get up to open the door for him.

“hey,” he breathes out, running his tattooed hand through his dark hair, jiggling his car keys in his other.

“hi there,” you smirk, stepping back to allow him room to enter your place.

jungkook grins, lip piercings glittering under the lights of your foyer, butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach at his mere presence.

you shut the door behind him, and you internally begin to panic. shit, shit, shit. this is why you can’t function around him. he’s sexy, he’s smooth, he’s confident. he’s got it all.

seemingly noticing your frozen state, jungkook takes your hands into his, pulling you toward him and wrapping his arms around your body.

“you wanna know something?” he whispers, kind eyes soothing you immediately. he smiles when he feels you melt into his arms, wrapping your own arms around his neck as you hum in response.

“you intimidate me,” he presses his forehead against yours, his nose crinkling at your alarmed facial expression.

“i meant that in a good way,” he clarifies, closing his eyes for a second to think about what he wants to say next.

you get caught up in the way his long eyelashes kiss his cheeks, his soft skin flushing a light pink under your attention.

it was comforting to know he was as affected by you as you were by him. you squeezed your arms around him to get his attention again, admiring his shy smile as he came back to you.

“you intimidate me too,” you whisper, “but i also think we should let ourselves do what we want.”

you watch as something unfamiliar flickers in jungkooks eyes, excited by the new desire displayed in his features.

you shiver as his hand slides up your neck to cup your jaw, resting his hand behind your ear. his eyes flick down to your lips, and you swear you must be dreaming.

“is this okay?” he asks, voice soft, caring. as usual.

“more than okay,” you murmured, tilting your head to finally, finally, finally press your lips to his.

when his mouth opens, he tastes sweet, like sugar and cherries. it just makes sense, the ease of your tongues finding each other making you both sigh in relief.

moans and whimpers pass between you when he closes his mouth and sucks on your tongue, and you feel dizzy due to the fact that he has now walked you backward to press your spine to the wall. your shy jungkook is no more.

you can gradually feel yourself slipping into his spell, each movement of his mouth pulling you in deeper and deeper until you have to pull away to catch your breath.

jungkook’s eyes dart wildly around your face, admiring your flushed lips and messy hair. he adjusts his hand so that his fingers are pushing your hair behind your ears, smiling when he feels your fingers wrap around his wrists.

“shit, we should do that again,” you exhale, jungkook giggling as he tips his scrunched up face to the ceiling for a moment.

“yeah,” he breathes, leveling his face with you again before tipping to the right, teasingly hovering over your needy mouth, “we really should.”

this time is rougher than the last, neither of you caring to test the waters any further. they’ve been tested enough.

and all you can think is how incredibly stupid you’ve been. how did you deprive yourself of this for so long?

you keen as jungkook presses his chest to yours, wildly beating hearts communicating just how ready the two of you were to finally feel each other.

your hands go to jungkooks hair while his go down your back, trailing down your spine and politely stopping at midway.

he groans deep in his throat when you guide his hands to go to your ass, a surge of heat flushing between your legs when he cups the flesh with his fingers and squeezes like he’s wanted to for months.

“been waiting for this,” jungkook speaks breathlessly between kisses, an official statement on your four months of celibacy.

“don’t have to wait anymore,” you break away momentarily, a string of saliva stretching between you. “i’m ready.”

you tilt your head back to look at him, raising your eyebrows so that he knows you’re serious. his tongue darts out to play with his lip piercings, a casual habit of his, but it flames the arousal settling into the pit of your stomach.

“are you sure? you’ll let me?” he asks, and you grin as you slide out from where you were pressed between him and the wall, taking his hand in yours and wiping the rejection right off his face.

“honestly? i would let you do anything you wanted to me,” you answer truthfully, a confession you’re glad to have said without facing the man.

and it was a good thing, because it was now jungkooks turn to blush, biting his lip as you led him to your bedroom.

once on your bed, jungkook held your waist as you straddled him, smiling between kisses as you playfully nipped at each others lips.

after months of build up, it felt great to be able to feel each other, body to body.

he hissed as you rolled your hips down on his half hard cock, clenching his teeth as he let his hands roll the flesh of your ass, encouraging you to do it again.

you reveled in the noises spilling from his mouth, and never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined a man’s moans could be so sexy.

you definitely weren’t being quiet yourself, whining and moaning at each rock of your hips along jungkook’s growing shaft.

this moment was fulfilling your fantasies. and, well, not to sound totally pathetic but…it’s been a long time since you’ve been touched like this.

“i wanna see you, baby,” jungkook speaks up between moans, cursing when you guide his hand up underneath your shirt.

he wastes no time in lifting the material to feel your skin, hand flattening to drag up your stomach.

“oh, my god,” you whimper, moments later when he’s got your bra discarded on the floor and his mouth on your chest. your hand holds onto his hair for some kind of stability as he marks the underside of your breast, smoothing it over with a swipe of his tongue that catches your nipple as well.

jungkook lets out a noise of approval at the way the action makes you pull on his hair a bit tighter, moving his face so he’s directly over your breast, wrapping his lips around your nipple and suckling.

his eyes flick up to your face and he feels a rush of blood go down to his dick at the view. your face is contorted in pleasure, mouth dropped open as you arch into his touch.

it makes him want to move down further, so he tests his limits and removes himself from your chest, shuffling down and watching for your reaction as he hooks his fingers underneath the waistband.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he speaks softly, eyes turning to amused crescents when you instead lift your butt for him to remove your shorts.

always so caring. your jungkook. but you think you might kill him if he doesn’t have your pants off in the next two seconds.

“please don’t stop,” you beg, and that’s all jungkook needs to hear before he’s nearly ripping your shorts and underwear off, coaxing your thighs open to reveal just how wet you are.

“shit,” he says as he traces a finger through your folds, making your cheeks burn hotter as he retracts said finger and closes his mouth around it to get a taste of you.

“jungkoook,” you whine, embarrassed at his crudeness. he only laughs in response, settling himself between your legs as he taps his fingers against your thigh comfortingly.

“what? i want the full experience! and you taste amazing.”

he’s shameless, you think, but you don’t get the chance to say it before he has his face buried between your legs. you inhale a broken gasp as he licks at your clit, rolling it with his tongue as his thumbs rub circles into the skin by your hip bones.

he alternated between flattening his tongue to gather your juices and pointing it to rub hard circles on your swollen clit, and the pace in which he does so is making you dizzy.

“fuckin’ gorgeous,” he slurs against you, and if it was possible, you’d say jungkook was drunk off of you.

“fuck, fuck, please,” you whimper, the high pitched sound piercing the otherwise quiet of your apartment.

jungkook seems to understand what you’re asking for as he immediately puts his fingers to good use, sliding his index finger into you and curling it up to hit your g-spot each time he enters you.

it leads to a humiliating amount of gushing from your entrance, jungkook again taking his finger out to suck everything you’d given him off.

“jungkook,” you wail as he swings your legs over his shoulders, nuzzling his head further between your legs, opening his mouth to moan against you.

your mouth opened in a silent scream as he began fucking you with calculated flicks of his tongue, the tip of his nose bumping into your clit with each nod of his head.

“baby, hmm-fuck!” you shudder as he continues the tantalizing action, running your hands through his hair and clenching your fingers around his soft tendrils as you felt the burning intensify in the pit of your stomach.

jungkook groans at the sting on his scalp, eyebrows pulled together in concentration as he works you to your orgasm.

his hard work pays off when your thighs start shaking around his head, your release coating his mouth, hard breaths wracking your chest as he cleans you up with gentle laps of his tongue.

when he reappears above your face, you cup his jaw with both of your hands, lazily blinking up at him as you both attempt to steady your breathing.

“that was,” you raise your eyebrows, eyes darting down to his lips as his tongue darts out to drag against his bottom lip.

“fucking hot,” jungkook finishes for you, humming when you lift your head off the pillow and catch his lips once more.

he exhales a heavy breath from his nostrils when you slip a hand down his sweatpants, rubbing his hard bulge through his boxers.

“please fuck me,” you beg again, all reservation thrown out the window as you stroke him through the thin fabric separating you from his dick.

“don’t have to tell me twice,” he grins, shuffling out of his pants and grabbing a foil packet from the pocket before tossing them off the bed.

your mouth dropped slightly as he slid his calvins off his hips, hard cock slapping his stomach. you reach for him, but he gently overrides your hand, beginning to roll the condom onto his tip.

“as much as i would love for you to touch me right now, i know i would blow my load right away,” he chuckles when you do, but gets serious again with his next words, “and i need to be inside of you very soon otherwise i’ll completely lose my sanity.”

as he says this, he settles back over your frame, caging you underneath him and exhaling shakily as his cockhead catches in your entrance with the movement.

“okay,” you smile, kissing him once more as he slides his hands under your knees, forcing your legs up to slide in with ease.

“oh, fuck,” he moans as he bottoms out inside of you, sucking a harsh breath between his teeth. his neck flexes above you, a sheen of sweat beginning to show. you’re tempted to suck on the supple skin there, but all thoughts go out the window when he starts gently grinding circles into you.

“are you okay?” he asks, and even in his still caring tone, you can hear his voice threatening to break under the throes of pleasure.

“‘m good,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him and playing with the hair on the back of his head, “you can move.”

he starts out slow, giving you deep thrusts that almost have his tip coming out before he pumps his entire length back inside of you.

“you’re so pretty,” he says suddenly, smirking when you grow flustered at his out of the blue confession, “i don’t tell you that enough.”

“y-you tell me that every day, jungkook,” you argue, brain muddled from the pleasure burning in your core.

“should be telling you at least three times a day,” he counters, an attractive grunt ending his sentence as he feels your muscles clench around his cock.

his eyes watch your every move, flicking down your bodies to where you’re connected, to your open mouth, to your scrunched eyebrows. he’s looking for clues of what you like, versus what you don’t.

experimentally, he snaps his hips a bit harder and faster, reaching a depth he hadn’t yet found within you.

“feels so good, baby,” you confirm around a gasp, jungkook readily diving down to swallow the moan you let out when he continues the delicious pace.

the bedsprings squeak under his movements, both of your moans accompanying the bothersome sound as the burning in the pit of your stomach grows.

the band feels like it’s been stretched past it’s limit and it’s about to snap. each time jungkook hits your g-spot feels like you’ve ascended to a different universe. you’re running your hands down his back to cope, digging your nails into his skin as he pushes you further up the mattress with his thrusts.

“squeezing me so tight, baby, ‘m not gonna last,” he pants into your ear, the sound so sexy that you hold him by the jaw again, tongues wrapping around each other as you both get closer and closer to your highs.

“gonna cum, i’m gonna cum kookie,” you whimper into his mouth, sobbing out a delighted moan when his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing circles into it with the pad of his finger.

“give it to me, baby, c’mon,” he moans, his hands folding your thighs up so they pressed flat to your stomach, hitting deeper with each thrust of his hips.

you cum with a high pitched whine of his name, jungkook responding with a series of “ah, ah, ah”s punctuating his final thrusts before he stills, exhaling a sigh of relief as he sets his forehead on your collarbone.

you cringe at the sting in your legs when he adjusts them to lay straight out on the bed again, jungkook apologizing with a soft kiss to your forehead that suddenly made the burning in your legs dissipate.

after discarding the condom in your bathroom, he walks back into the bedroom with a warm cloth in hand, gently dragging it between your legs to clean you.

you never dreamed that jungkook would be an aftercare king, but looking back on the months you spent with the sweet man, it made perfect sense.

your thoughts are interrupted by jungkook laying down next to you, swiping your hair back from your damp forehead.

“shit,” you finally say, at a complete loss for words in your post orgasm haze.

jungkook laughs, but it’s a kind laugh. he’s endeared, enamored, maybe just a little shy again now, because he just got to do everything he’s been dreaming of for months.

he shakes his head in disbelief before settling beside you, extending his arm for you to use as a pillow which you readily roll into.

“definitely couldn’t have done that through the phone.”

[fastandcarlos]

Yeah, Life Is Pretty Good! : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: in which carlos finds himself daydreaming wondering how he managed to achieve such a perfect life

“Have you even been listening to a word that I’ve been saying?” 

The raise in volume of your voice had Carlos’ eyes snapping over in your direction, his eyes going wide. Your head shook, the guilt on his expression clear as he glanced back down at your son who he held tightly in his arms. 

“You weren’t were you?” You sighed, folding your arms in front of his chest. “I swear I might as well talk to myself sometimes with you, what’s been going on with you these days?” 

“Sorry,” Carlos sighed, “what was it that you were saying?” 

You dismissed Carlos as you left your son’s nursery, heading downstairs to get on with some work that you had to do. Carlos felt terrible as he watched you go, having tried his best to listen, but unable to quite concentrate enough. 

“That’s your fault,” Carlos scolded your son, “I can’t help but sit and watch you and that means I don’t hear your mummy.” 

Over the past three weeks since your son arrived, Carlos had felt new emotions that he’d never experienced before. He was overwhelmed, happy, a little bit tired, but above all else, he was so in love. 

Getting used to the newborn stage was exciting for him, each day he was finding out new things about your son, discovering new details or picking up on little habits. He was completely infatuated with his new status as dad, he couldn’t get enough of the massive learning curve. 

“Your mum just doesn’t understand, does she?” Carlos asked your son, “how can anyone not just be completely obsessed with you before anything else?” 

The bright eyes of your son stared up at Carlos, completely unaware of what he was saying. Carlos didn’t seem to mind too much, just getting your son familiar with the sound of his voice was the most important thing to him, knowing they’d have plenty of time for proper conversations in the future. 

You were sure it was the Spanish in him, but whenever Carlos spoke, your son listened. He was fascinated by Carlos’ voice, those little accents and flair that he had already had your son intrigued by him. 

You could already tell they were going to be quite the double act. 

You didn’t seem to mind though, watching Carlos in awe. He’d made no secret of the fact that he wanted to start a family, but even he couldn’t prepare himself for how incredible it would be. Above all else, he couldn’t quite believe just how lucky he got to have the two of you. 

“What do you do to me?” Carlos asked, standing your son up against his thighs. “You don’t even feel guilty for making me an emotional wreck, do you?” 

As he studied your son, Carlos could see himself in him perfectly, he had his eyes, without a shadow of a doubt, knowing he was going to a heartbreaker with those piercing orbs when he was a little bit older. 

Carlos couldn’t wait to teach him so much more about life, all the things his dad taught him, and although he wouldn’t admit it to you, he definitely couldn’t wait to show him all about race cars in the future too. 

He wasn’t quite sure how long the two of them were sat in the nursery for, disturbed by the door opening and you peering through, smiling softly at the scene that you saw unfolding in front of you. 

It was only as you walked in you noticed how Carlos’ bottom lip was stuck out, his eyes slightly bigger than usual, two habits of his you always recognised a sign for when he was feeling a little bit emotional. 

“What’s he done to you?” You laughed, taking a seat beside Carlos. 

Carlos’ head shook as he laid your son back down in his hold, using his now free hand to quickly wipe underneath his eyes and get rid of any tears that might’ve been threatening to spill for him before reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. 

You weren’t letting Carlos get away with things that easily though as you continued to stare at him, silently pushing him to open up to you and let you know what had suddenly got him feeling a little bit teary eyed. 

“Don’t,” Carlos chuckled, feeling you watching over him. “You’re going to laugh at me if I tell you what it is that I’ve been thinking about.” 

“You won’t know unless you tell me?” 

“It’s silly,” Carlos told you, but still you sat in anticipation. “I was just thinking about how amazing life is right now, with you, and of course this one.” 

“That’s not silly in the slightest,” you smiled, shuffling closer towards Carlos. “I think that’s a pretty natural thing to think and feel considering what we’ve just been through.” 

“I never expected life to be this good,” Carlos admitted, finding himself getting a little bit flustered once again. 

Carlos’ feelings were only matched by you, it was an overwhelming experience to say the least. The most amazing thing for you was watching Carlos as a dad, you knew that he was going to be good, but even Carlos surprised you with just how good he was. 

“I’m so proud to say that this is our team,” Carlos smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It feels like we’re pretty untouchable when it’s the three of us together.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with him, “we always said having a baby would be what completes us, and I think we were absolutely right.” 

“There’s always room for one more,” Carlos replied, watching as your eyes went wide, quickly shaking your head to swat away any ideas that Carlos had. 

You’d only just had one, let alone start thinking about another. Maybe one day you could have those conversations with Carlos again, but for now you, and your body, were more than happy just making the most of having one baby safely with you both. 

“It makes me sad to know that he’s going to grow up,” Carlos spoke, changing the subject. “I wish he could stay this small and adorable forever.” 

Already the two of you were noticing changes, before your very eyes it already felt like your son was growing up at a rapid rate, and he’d only been with you for a couple of weeks. 

“He’s always going to be adorable,” you laughed, “he’s got our genes after all.” 

“That’s true,” Carlos chuckled, his eyes flickering between the two of you. “He’s going to get all the ladies when he’s older, I can already see it.” 

You dreaded to think how you would cope in the future, watching your son grow up, the terrible twos, the tantrums, and the teenage years too. But for now you were both on cloud nine, hoping that you could stay in your bubble for as long as you possibly could. 

“So, life is good then?” You jokingly asked Carlos. 

“Yeah, life is pretty good!” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[starboye]

pairing: prince henry x male reader

request: hey if you have room for a red, white and royal blue fic. Could you do a henery x male reader who is a photographer and is hired to take pictures for the royal family because Henry has s fat crush on him

warnings: none

it was really nice working for the royal family, they had good hospitality, and were incredibly nice, plus the pay was amazing so it would have been insane to not take a photography job from them, all you had to do was snap a couple pictures of their beloved and sometimes stuck up child prince henry.

it was a little bit of a challenge navigating the castle but you did end upo finding the place you were supposed to take the photos at, you set up your gear and camera and just as you finished henry walked in "oh hi mr henry i was just putting the last touches on everything" you say with a smile standing up straight to shake his hand, henry stood there dumbfounded by your good looks "sir" you chuckle.

he snaps back to reality and shakes your hand firmly, maybe a little to firmly as you had to pull your hand out of his tight grip "sorry just a little nervous" he nervously chuckles obviously awkward "oh, well nothing to be scared of just gotta take some quick pictures" you reassure sweetly.

"okay" he calms down a little "alright so stand right there on the little x and then do a nice pose" you say fixing the camera to look at him, he poses and you take a couple pictures before leaning up to examine them "are they good" henry asks "not really you just look a little to tense" you reply.

an idea pops in your head right then "lets do some silly poses to lighten the mood' you say "really" henry says not amused by the idea "yes really it'll work" you say setting the camera back down and aligning it with henry "do something like this" you say doing a crazy pose that makes henry laugh and after some hesitation he agrees and does it.

you laugh at the boys silly pose which makes him burst out laughing "okay okay now lets take these pictures" you say still chuckling lightly before snapping some pictures of henry in a more calmed and laid back state "perfect" you say turning the camera to show henry the pictures to which he agrees with you.

as you're admiring the photos to make sure they're all good henry quickly glance at your face, the way it looks,how soft your hair must feel, and your lips oh. my. god. he wanted to kiss you so bad but refrained from doing so, he turned his gaze away as you turn to look up at him "so i guess we're done here" henry questions.

"yeah i think thats pretty much it" you say before packing up your stuff and putting them into their bags, henry standing there fiddling with his cuff links nervously wanting to ask you out but not having the courage "your pictures should in the mail by tomorrow" you say as you head towards the door.

"wait" henry blurts out "yes"you question turning around "what if i come by your place and pick them up myself" henry shyly says "oh yeah sure" you agree "and maybe after we can get dinner" he adds "are you asking me on a date" you ask walking closer to henry "yeah i guess i am" henry says before you kiss him on the cheek "well then its a date" you smile before walking out, henry could feel his face heat up as he blushed and thought of the date tomorrow

[bambisspeckles]

Fool {Neighbor!Simon}

CW: nothing! just simon being cute, no gross simon shocker ik, neighbor!simon :3

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

Johnny constantly pesters Simon about moving out of his shitty apartment, always bombarding him with questions on why he chose to live in some subpar flat when he makes enough money for some decent housing. He always shrugged Johnny off, giving him some half-assed excused, 'Jus' don't see the point, got everythin' I need there.'

Simon would never dare tell Johnny the whole reason he insists on staying there is because of his cute little neighbor. You had moved in a few months after Simon and he was immediately infatuated with you. He had gotten back from a pretty shitty deployment the night before you had arrived and was woken up by all the commotion of your moving, in the early afternoon of the next day. He didn't pay any mind really, only taking one quick peek out of the peephole after he had been woken up, but after that, nothing. His mind occupied with thoughts of his last mission. It's only until later that evening that he sees you for the first time. He hears a knock at his door and he groans as he begrudgingly gets off his couch to open it.

God he's so glad he did.

He was greeted by the sight of your beautiful face, a bright smile plastered across your features, and a plate of freshly baked cookies in hand.

"Umm, hi! I'm you're new neighbor… I just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce myself." The cadence of your speech was a bit tense and awkward but you still had a smile on your face.

Ghost was too busy admiring your gorgeous to even answer you, not that he'd be able to give you a warm welcome anyways, he was much to strange of a man for a normal greeting. You break the tense silence by speaking again.

"I made some cookies for everyone, as a sort of peace offering I suppose, though no one who's opened the door seemed interested in them…" A graceless laugh escapes your lips.

Simon finally breaks his silence by grunting softly and clearing his throat to speak.

"It's good to meet you, m' Simon…" He can barely keep eye contact with you, his fingers tapping his upper tights anxiously.

Your eyes soften, seemingly picking up his tactlessness in the conversation department. You give him your name and god he swears it's the most beautiful name he's ever heard, he wants to say your name like a god damn prayer, like it's the only word he's ever known.

Apparently he zones out as he's admiring you because you have to clear your throat and fidget anxiously for him to snap back into reality. You only speak again when he meets your eyes.

"Well it was wonderful to meet you, Simon." His throat tightens at the way you speak his name. "Um.. Do you want a cookie or should I go back to my flat and eat my embarrassment away?" The lilt of teasing in your voice has the corner of his eyes crinkling.

"Sure love, I'll take a few." Your smile somehow grows brighter at his acceptance of your gift.

"Wonderful! Just an FYI these cookies are not allergy friendly so…" Your voice trails off as you pull back the plastic wrap to grant Simon access. He just hums in acknowledgement at your words.

There's a few moments of silence as Simon grabs a few cookies off the plate before grunting and pulling his hand away. You cover the cookies back up before meeting his eyes and speaking to him.

"Again, it was really nice to meet you, I hope was can chat again sometime." God your voice was so fucking enticing, it was soft and warm and he felt his insides melt.

"Mm, thanks for the cookies." You flash him a smile before turning and walking back to your flat.

He closes his door behind him, staring at the cookies in his hand.

Fuck, you were going to be a problem weren't you love?

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

Hi guys! I hope you enjoy my little drabble and I thank you for all the support <3 I'm hoping to turn these drabbles into a little mini series? I'm not sure I'll probably just write them when I write! Likes and reblogs are appreciated mwah!

[aniesvision]

𝟔- 𝑨𝒏𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒕

𐂃 𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚝 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜'𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒔𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓, 𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒓𝒌, 𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒓𝒌, 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒂 𝒋𝒆𝒓𝒌 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒕, 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒇! 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗, 𝒑𝒆𝒕 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 (𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍), 𝒑𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒍𝒆𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂, 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅, 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

thanks for the idea mommy @starnoirr ;)

-You know what? Fuck you, Chris, you're a fucking asshole sometimes. -I say, throwing my hands in the air in frustration and walking away from his room.

The tears kept rolling as I made my way to the front door, rushing to my car and taking a few deep breaths to calm down before driving off.

The fact is: I love Chris, with all my heart, with all my body, with everything in me, but lately he's just being a lot more difficult to deal with.

He's always been childish, not all the time, but it's part of his personality to be goofy. I don't mind, I really don't, but I've been going through a lot recently and needed support, I guess he didn't realize I was so annoyed and kept joking around.

It took me long enough to react, I was already beyond stressed and he wasn't aware of how bad the situation was until I snapped. I'd tried to vent about my work problems and my lack of self-esteem, I felt like a mess and I wanted to be heard, to let go of the weight on my chest that has been consuming me. But Chris laughed, finding it so funny to hear me mispronouncing a stupid word that wasn't even important to what I was saying.

I confess that maybe I overreacted. He was just being his goofy self and I was irritated, which led us into a huge fight and me running away.

I couldn't help it though. As soon as I feel the comfort of my bed I let the frustration go. I cry, and cry, and cry. My head was already starting to hurt, my body was getting tired, I could barely keep my eyes open and I was for sure dehydrated.

I only get out of bed to take a quick shower, trying to put myself back together. It's unreal how feeling a cascade of warm water helps, I felt clean after thinking for so long that I was a mess. I wrap the towel around my body, brushing my wet hair and my teeth. I was about to do a simple skincare, since the salty tears made my skin feel dry, but I heard the intercom ringing.

I sigh, thinking it's Chris so I don't even waste time putting on some clothes first. I walk to the front door, keeping my head down and opening it.

-Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. -I say, before he can even speak, but as soon as I look up his eyes aren't exactly his.

-You didn't, but apology accepted. -Matt says, letting himself in.

I furrow my eyebrows, confused to see him there, but I close and lock the door before anyone else can see me just in a towel.

-What are you doing here? -I ask, holding onto the towel as if my life depended on it.

Matt was holding a small plastic bag and he wasn't so discreet eyeing me up and down, but I just waited for a response without thinking too much about it.

-Chris asked me to give you this. -He hands me the bag. -And to check on you.

I open the bag seeing that I forgot my hoodie at their house. It makes me remember the fight we had and I almost let tears fall all over again, but I guess there was none left since I couldn't even do it.

-Thanks. -I whisper, throwing the plastic bag on the kitchen counter and walking to my room.

Matt follows behind me, watching as I throw the hoodie on my bed and sit next to it.

-How are you feeling, kid? -He asks, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms, looking at me with concern.

I look up at him, biting my lips nervously as I think.

-I don't know. Sad? -I answer it with another question, like somehow Matt would know me better than myself.

Matt was the first out of the three that I became friends with, but since I started dating Chris we stopped hanging out so much. Unfortunately, the idea of him knowing me better than myself wasn't so far away from the truth.

He smiles, taking a few steps closer and taking a seat next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. I rest my head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath, feeling his fingertips drawing circles on my arm.

-What did he do this time? -He asks, making me giggle at his tone.

-I guess nothing wrong. I was stressed out and annoyed with work and I wanted to talk with someone about it, but he kept making jokes and irritating me so I yelled at him and we kind of had a fight.

Matt lifts his hand to run his fingers through my wet hair, letting me talk as much as I wanted to.

-And I wanted him to pay attention because I was also venting about how insecure I've been feeling lately. -I sigh, playing with the end of the towel that was sitting on my thighs.

-Insecure about what? -His tone sounded surprised, like he didn't expect me to feel this way, which was slightly funny in some sort of way.

-I don't know, my body, my face. I just haven't felt pretty in a while. -I shrug, looking up at him.

Matt shakes his head, his free hand grabbing my jaw as the other leaves my hair and shoulder to stay behind my back, keeping him propped up. He looks at me, tilting my head so I am looking at him too.

-Don't ever think that of yourself. You're beautiful, your body is beautiful, and if you don't see that you're fucking blind.

I smile, ready to say something back, but he keeps going.

-And if Chris is stupid to let you think that about yourself without telling you how pretty you are, then maybe he's not good enough for you.

I feel immediately nervous with this sentence. I mean, yes it's been a while since Chris last complimented me, but he's not the one to blame, right?

I start to think about it, one of the reasons I haven't been feeling so pretty is because he wasn't saying anything like he used to. When we started dating he'd tell me so many times that I was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, and now that we have been together for a while he's not saying anything anymore. At least, not beside the pet names, but it doesn't really count if it's so automatic.

-He wasn't listening, that's all. -I try to defend him, unsure of what to think but still wanting to keep things understandable.

Matt looks at me like he knows exactly what is going on in my head, his eyes flicking between mine as a sarcastic smirk grows on his face. He tilts his head to the side, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

-C'mon, you don't even believe it. He should've been listening, if you're venting about your feelings no one should be joking around, that's messed up.

He was right, and just like that I had nothing to say. Matt's eyes proceeded to follow my emotions, he was reading me like a book and he gave me a few seconds to think. His hand slides to the back of my head and I let my head fall down, my eyes now focused on the towel again.

-When was the last time he made you feel good? -Matt breaks the silence with an almost whispered sentence that made my eyes widen.

-What? -I ask, laughing through my nose like it was a joke, lifting my head to look at him and study his expressions.

-You heard me. -He moves a strand of my hair behind my ear.

-You mean... -I started, to make sure I was thinking about the same thing as him.

-The last time he made you cum. -He completes.

My heart beat like crazy, I was way too vulnerable to think straight. I know I shouldn't be talking about something so personal and private with my boyfriend's brother, but at the same time he was actually listening, he was right there willing to hear me and that was all I wanted, all I needed. Chris didn't, he made jokes, didn't make me feel better and we had an argument.

-Uhm, I don't know, a few weeks ago? -I answer him nervously.

It was clear that I was reluctant about this topic and he was quick to notice it.

-Weeks? That's why you're so stressed out, sweetheart. -He giggles, gripping the back of my hair lightly.

I had to look away from him for a second. It was like he was telling me all the things I was too blind to see. Maybe he does have a valid point. Chris hadn't demonstrated any interest in sex for the last three weeks. I didn't mind at first, but it was a bit frustrating now. I didn't want to assume anything and of course I would never get mad at him for not wanting to do it, but he wasn't even making any effort to at least make me feel pretty and important.

-He doesn't want to. -I whisper, ashamed that I was confessing to Matt that my boyfriend, which is his brother, doesn't want to fuck me.

His eyes widen a bit before he laughs without any humor. He looked at me like I said something disappointing and I felt my cheeks burning.

-He's fucking stupid.

I clear my throat, adjusting myself on my spot and using one hand to hold the towel harder against my body. His eyes drop to my hand and the other holding him up moves closer. He lets the other hand drop to my thigh, caressing it lightly.

-I bet I can make you feel good.

My heart skips numerous beats and I feel myself freezing with his suggestion. This is wrong, so wrong. Chris sent him here, and it already makes me upset that he didn't come here himself, Chris is his brother, Matt's my friend, Matt actually listened, Matt actually cares, Chris is not making me feel good about myself.

-Don't say that. -I whisper back, feeling his hand moving further up.

I was so confused and feeling so many emotions that I couldn't think, speak and react at the same time, so as I was watching his hand move he leaned closer to whisper in my ear.

-Why? Because you know I can?

I was overwhelmed. I close my eyes as if it was going to solve everything, breathing heavily and still holding the towel.

Matt starts to prep kisses on my neck slowly, as if he was testing the waters, his lips sending a shiver down my spine. He continues kissing my skin as his hand squeezes my inner thigh, so close to a part that he shouldn't be touching.

-Matt, this is not right. -I say, using my voice to try to keep me on track, but I still can't move, or at least that's what I'm convincing myself so I won't feel worse for not even trying to stop him.

-I know. But you feeling insecure and unwanted is not right as well. -He replies, and for some reason I believe him.

It all happened so fast, first I was trying to convince myself that this was not a good idea, then just a few seconds later the towel covering my body was on the floor, Matt was on his knees holding my thighs and keeping my legs over his shoulders as he ate me out.

I knew I needed to stop that, to end whatever it was, but the feeling of Matt's tongue working on my clit was unreal. He was so good, and it's been so long since I felt this way that I couldn't stop.

I tried my hardest not to make any sounds, to not react so much, but it was impossible, my moans flew naturally and my hand in his hair pulled him impossibly closer.

-So good, pretty girl, could do this all day.

His words made me whine, Chris was usually a degrading kind of guy, but hearing Matt talking like this made me wonder what I truly liked.

He smirked against my pussy, pulling away just to slide his middle finger in. His finger and his tongue worked together magically, making me moan loudly. I could already feel an orgasm building up and he noticed I was close.

-Give it to me, you deserve it, sweetheart.

His words were enough to make me get there, my juices dripping down his chin. He licks me clean, slipping off his finger and wiping his chin with the top of his hand.

I was panting with my eyes barely open, my legs shaking when he took them off his shoulders. He chuckles at my state, crawling on top of me and hovering over my naked body, looking down at me.

-Was that good? -He asks, cockily. He already knew the answer.

I roll my eyes with a small smile, covering my eyes with my hands in embarrassment.

-Can I make you feel even better? -He asks, using one hand to uncover my eyes and interlace our fingers.

Without thinking too much I nod. He captures my lips in a kiss, making me taste myself. The kiss was gentle, but intense, and I could feel his bulge growing harder. He's even quicker to take off his clothes than he was to unwrap the towel from my body and in a matter of seconds he was teasing my sensitive pussy with his tip.

Before he could do anything else, my phone rang. I feel frustrated all over again, but when Matt reaches for it and smirks at the screen I knew I was fucked.

-Answer it. -He demands, giving me a look I've never seen before but somehow got me wetter.

I bite my lips, turning my head to see Chris's contact on the screen. I sigh, giving Matt another look but he immediately answers the call and places the phone against my ear, giving me no choice. He kept holding the phone with one hand and went back to teasing me with his tip.

-Hello? -I hear Chris's voice and I can't help but feel weird.

-Hey. -I say, trying to regulate my breathing.

-Hey, baby. It's getting late and I'm about to go to bed, I don't want to go to sleep with you being mad at me so I decided to call.

His voice was calm, but didn't have the softness to it, it didn't have any emotions showing but the tiredness.

Just as I was about to respond, Matt thrusts all of him at once, giving me no time to think before a moan escaped my lips. Matt had a clear smirk on his face and I could've punched him if I wasn't so concentrated on making the phone call seem normal.

-What was that? Are you okay? -Chris asks from the other side of the line and I take a deep breath.

-Yeah, yeah, sorry, I just hit my toe on the bed, but I'm fine. And don't worry I'm not mad at you.

I bite my lips when I feel Matt starting to move, keeping a slow pace that was driving me insane. He felt so good and the slight burning sensation soon turned into pleasure.

-Oh, okay, well, I'm sorry. Also, I won't be able to see you tomorrow, I have plans already, but we can plan something later, alright?

It was getting harder and harder to understand anything Chris was saying, I just wanted the call to be over. Matt started to move faster, his free hand squeezing one of my boobs.

-Yeah, fuck, yes, okay. -I say, sounding in a rush.

Matt chuckles silently, lifting my leg to hit a deeper spot and I had to bite my lips harshly to keep myself quiet.

-Uh, okay, I'll go to sleep now, love you, bye.

I look at Matt, already feeling another orgasm coming.

-Love you too, bye. -I rush to say, ending the call and pulling Matt into another kiss.

He kisses me hungrily this time, sliding in his tongue. I moan against his lips and he teasingly pulls back.

-So he's got plans tomorrow, huh? -He asks, mentioning what Chris said on the call.

He slides one hand between our bodies to rub my clit, his fingers adding to the pleasure and making my arch back with how intense it was.

-Y-yes. -I moan a response and he laughs.

I was so close, the knot in my stomach just about to snap.

-Guess I'll be coming back tomorrow then.

I don't even have time to think about a response, the knot snapping and making me release on his dick, my moans echoing through the room. His name went out of my lips like a mantra and he rode down my high, pulling off and painting my stomach with his seed.

He collapses next to me on the bed. We waited until we were a bit calmer and he looked at me, making me look at him back. He smiles at me, pecking my lips and cupping one of my cheeks.

-So, tomorrow? -He asks, making me laugh and playfully roll my eyes.

-Yes, Matt. -I answer, his smile growing.

This is probably a terrible mistake, but the way I feel now is incomparable to what I was feeling for the past weeks, I need to feel good again.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @mattsfavbigtitties @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @flow3rsturns13 @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @sturnsxbitvh @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @starnoirr @katie-tibo @sturnioloblues @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @sharkcat1928 @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @s1ut4chris @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @jupiter1700

[munsons-melody]

flinch

summary: you flinch during a fight with eddie

pairing: eddie x female!reader

cw: angst w a fluffy ending, thoughts of abuse

word count: 1.5k words

a/n: wrote this v quickly so it’s not really proofread or anything. i could’ve done it better but i’ve been soo busy :/ might rewrite later

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were in eddie's trailer, wayne had just left for work 10 minutes ago, and already you were in some silly little fight with eddie which you didn't expect to escalate how it did

"it's just sometimes guitar players think they're better than everyone else" you stated and eddie rolled his eyes, taking it as a personal jab to his skills

"okay but they almost make the band" he responded from the kitchen, hearing the clank of dishes as the water ran from the faucet

"okay but most of the time they are just assholes who just care about the sex, drugs, and rock n roll life style" you shrugged

"so you think i'm an asshole?" he responded back with a sharp tone and you shook your head

"no i'm talking about the people like mick mars who are so doped up and sleep with hundreds of women and just act like a douchebag" you said with a matter of fact tone

"well it kinda sounds like you're implying that i'm going to turn out like them" he snapped, turning off the water and drying his hands

"no! god no, i'm not saying that! i'm saying once in the spotlight, most people turn into assholes like that" you said, trying your best to stay calm

"so once my band makes it big, you're what- just gonna leave since you think it'll happen to me?" he questioned, turning the corner to meet you in the living room

"of course not! why would you say something like that?" you asked with a louder tone

"well it sounds like that's what you're expecting!" he said, starting to shout

"im not expecting it to happen!" you said, your voice growing to match his

"yeah well i'm pretty sure those 'friends' of yours think it will, they already think i'm in a satanic cult about to sacrifice you" he told you with a sarcastic growl, grabbing some extra dishes he found on the small table to put in the sink

"what the fuck is that about" you asked confused, remembering the party in which you two had met up with a couple of your girl friends but failed to recall them talking about that certain subject

"yeah you didn't hear what they said? we were at that party at steve's house the other night, and they started talking about how i'm some trailer trash wannabe rockstar" he angrily said, flipping on the water to keep working on the leftover dishes from the previous night

"okay first off, i never heard them say anything like that! second, why were you even hanging out with my friends if i wasn't there?" you rebutted, questioning him

"because i was trying to be a caring boyfriend and find you since robin said you looked a little too drunk and i didn't want you to hurt yourself" he snapped back

the volume of the argument kept escalating, which brought knots to your stomach. you hadn't really had fights with eddie and now that you're in one, you badly wanted to go back to how it was

"well i'm sorry i was trying to enjoy myself at the party but also i have never heard them say anything like that before in my life" you told him, starting to pace around, not knowing what else to do

"oh great and now you're defending them, what- do you agree with them?" he asked as you started to pick up empty cans and put them in the bin

"i do not agree with anything they said! but i've known those girls for a good few years now and i know they wouldn't say that about anyone" you tried and he laughed, putting his head down

"you are unbelievable!" he screamed and that's when you didn't care if you started yelling, the anger bubbling up inside you

"oh really so you want to talk about what friends have said about us? okay, well remember that time we were at the hideout and your friend hank said that he liked your other girlfriend before me better and was annoyed that you're whipped for some girl who was less pretty than she was!" you screamed, tears pricking in your eyes

you remembered that moment all too well when hank mentioned how much prettier eddie's ex girlfriend was, and your heart sank but you laughed it off, coming up with some smart comeback to brush off the pieces of your shattered confidence

"that was a joke! you even laughed!" eddie rebutted, slamming a cabinet door shut. you flinched at the loudness of it but he didn't see with his back turned to you

"i only laughed because i was uncomfortable! i didn't know what else to do!" you said, wiping away a tear that fell down your cheek

eddie angrily stomped out of the kitchen to his room and you followed, blinking away tears

"and i also don't exactly remember you defending me and telling him off!" you screamed and he turned to look at you

"because i didn't know you were uncomfortable!" he screamed back, looking around his desk for something

"well you should know from common sense that anyone hearing that would not find it amusing!" your anger was consuming you as you watched eddie throw a shirt from his desk to his bed

"well i guess i'm just not a very good boyfriend then!" he said throwing his arms up in the air

you stepped back, bringing your arms up in a defensive stance as your head turned, somehow expecting there to be an impact from his hand

eddie realized what happened as he stared at you with wide eyed and you slowly moved your head to look at him with your arms still up

you moved your arms down as eddie just stood there in shock, and you moved to wipe a couple more tears of frustration from your face

"y/n... did you think i was going to hit you?" he asked softly, a huge change in tone from what you previously were hearing, his stance deflating

you gulped put a small "no" not wanting him to think that you'd think he'd do such a thing. you knew he would never, but it was a natural reaction that you instantly regretted

"baby i..." he trailed off, taking a small step forward towards you. you didn't move back which he took as a good sign

"you know i would never ever do that to you, right?" he asked, taking another small step forward and putting a hand on your arm which was intertwined with your other arm, folded across your chest

"i know..." you muttered out, moving your head to look away from him, keeping your arms crossed

"can i please hold you?" he asked gently and you nodded, slowly moving your body into his open arms as he wrapped them around you, engulfing you into a giant bear hug

a few more tears fell down as he held you close to his body, and you leaned your head into his chest

"i'm so so sorry for yelling and getting mad, and i'm sorry i didn't defend you when hank said that bullshit, i love you so so so much" he spoke softly, his hand coming up and gently placing it on the back of your head

“and i want you to know that i promise you i would never hit you or do anything of the sort, i’m so sorry you thought that” he said with a shaky voice

"i'm sorry too," you started to apologize, feeling guilt run through your veins from not defending him earlier, and for reacting the way you did

"i didn't realize they said those things, and i know for a fact you aren't going to end up like mick mars or nikki sixx or any of those drug abusing rockstars, well maybe only with the level of rock n roll fame part, not the drugs" you joked with a sniffle

"and what about the sex?" he said with a chuckle, and you moved your body to face him, wrapping his arms around his waist and you moved your eyebrows up in a surprising way, pushing your head back in slight confusion

"you know, sex, drugs, rock n roll- they're a package deal... and obviously there's gonna be no drugs- well okay maybe weed, then a huge amount of rock n roll fame... what about the sex?" he joked making you smile with a small giggle

"well maybe, only if you'll still love and want me when you're big and famous" you told him with a small laugh, a smile growing on his face

"oh baby i will always love you and want you for the rest of my days" he said sweetly before leaning in and giving you a small kiss

when he pulled away he looked into your eyes, a hand moving to the back of your neck

"then show me how much you mean it," you said with a small smirk as he pulled you in for another kiss

he leaned in, kissing you passionately, his tongue fighting with yours as you moved you hands to slightly scratch down his back

"i- love- you" he said between breaths as he continued to kiss you, and you knew he really meant it

fin.

[samandcolbyownme]

I spent a lot of time writing and rewriting this. Adding detail taking too much detail, so I figured I’d just start right when it gets good and go from there and make a KILLIONAIRES series.

This is Part One.

Warnings are for the WHOLE SERIES | SMUT18+, strong language, swearing, enemies to lovers, mentions of weapons, knives, guns, gunfire, KNIFE PLAY, blood, injuries, wounds, arguing, some physical fighting, mentions of drugs, smoking weed, mentions of car accident, fbi!reader, reader being restrained, kissing, biting, hair pulling, scratching, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m rec), violence and filth

Word Count: 5.7k | unedited

PART ONE | PART TWO

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It’s been one body after another, sometimes two or three at once scene, if they are feeling up for it.

It’s been weeks and you and your team still don’t know who they are.

Billionaires are the target, why? No idea.

That was until you walked into the latest crime scene and the first thing that caught your attention was ‘They're not an inspiration, they're soulless scumbags’ spray painted on the wall in red.

“Heathers.” You snap and the officer turns towards you, “What’s up, y/n?” He looks from you to the wall and you tilt your head, “Did Gerald have any investments in anything?”

Heathers shakes his head, goes down over the report again, “Um.. oh wait.” He turns the paper towards you, pointing at something that sticks out.

“These people are after billionaires because they’re taking away from the people who barely have enough money to get by.” You turn towards the officer, “I need a list of people around here who have a background with the police.”

“Anything else?” He takes out his note pad and writes down what you told him. You shake your head, “No, as of right now I’m going to finish my look over here and then I’m going back to the station.”

“I can wait for you, take you back myself.” He shrugs and you nod, “Okay.” You smile as you walk away, finishing gathering everything you need.

You fill the chief in on what you told Heathers to do and he nods, “You’re onto something, y/l/n.” He looks around, “That thing Heathers pointed out, that I think was a plan that was talked about months ago.”

“What plan?” You tilt your head and he sighs, “A few people came together to buy an area of older apartment buildings on the west side of town.”

“The west side is where-“

“Exactly.”

You purse your lips, “Okay. I have everything here. I’m going to go back with Heathers to the station and start coming up with a list of possible suspects.”

“Thanks for coming on such short notice. You’re one of the best. We’re lucky to have you.” Chief smiles and you nod, “It’s the least I could do. You helped find the guy who shot my brother.”

“A few other officers are heading back to the station now.” Heathers walks up and you nod, “Alright. I just filled the chief in on everything.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

You both nod to the chief and head towards the car. As you get in, you let out a sigh, “I just can’t help but feel like we’re so close, you know?”

Heathers nods, “No, I know exactly what you mean.”

“Thank you for watching out for me. I know you and Ben were close.” You smile over at him, “I truly appreciate it, Heathers.”

He chuckles, “Would you please call me by my first name?” He shakes his head, coming to a stop at a red light, “Cody is not that card to remember.”

You laugh, “Sorry. Ben always calls you that, so it just stuck.”

“I just hope he’s back on his feet here soon.” He sighs, “Sucks that that even hap-“

Your body is jolted to the side, the air bags go off and glass flies everywhere. The sound of tires screeching to a stop fill your ears before you’re slammed back against the seat, falling unconscious.

——

You weren’t sure how long you were out for, but you were hurting.

You groaned as you lifted your head, but the pain in your neck caused it to fall back down. You heard distant bickering, “I told you not to hit the fucking passenger side of the car..”

“You fucking moron, you could have killed her. That’s not what we are trying to do.”

“Fucking Christ, I’m sorry if I missed the road and had to do a U turn… She’s here… what more do you fucking want from me?”

All of them were different voices.

You finally lifted your head, seeing four blurry figures in the distance. You tried to pull your hands, but your wrists were bound to the chair behind you, same with your ankles to the chair legs.

“H-hello.” You try to yell, but your voice was raspy. Your throat was dryer than fuck. You tried swallowing, trying to clear your throat before you yelled again, “Where the fuck, am I?”

“Shit. She’s awake.”

“Now if you look to your right, asshole.” The one figure motions towards you, but he’s talking to the other guy, “You’ll see that your target is alive.”

“Where’s Cody?” You ask, breathing heavy as the pain starts to set in worse, “Fuck.” You pull your wrists, but you freeze as the one man walks over and bends down between your knees, “I wouldn’t struggle sweetheart.”

Your eyes scan over his face, taking a mental image for when you do finally escape these psycho fucks, “Who are you?”

“Well, I’m Jake.” He lays a hand on his chest as he turns, pointing to each of the guys who walk forward behind him, “That’s Sam, Colby, and then the asshole who hit your side of the car when he was told not to, is Johnnie.”

“In my defense, I don’t have a license.” Johnnie shrugs and you just look at them so confused.

“So, by your face, I can tell you’re confused.” Jake moves to sit where he was just kneeling, his tattooed arms come up to wrap around his knees, “So let me break it down for you, y/n.”

“Where my badge.” You state and Jake just laughs, “y/n, sweetheart, I don’t need a badge to tell me who you are.”

Your heart thumps in your chest, what the fuck is happening?

“Listen. It’ll all make sense in a second, but right now..” Jake leans forward, “I want to know how bad you want to live.”

His statement makes your skin crawl.

“What do I need to do?” You ask, “Money? I can get money.”

“I mean, money wouldn’t be a bad idea, right?” Johnnie asks and Colby smacks him upside the head, “Can you be serious for once in your fucking life?”

Why were these men so hot?

No. No. Stop that.

You clear your throat again, “Can, I.. get some water please?” You look up between the guy on the floor and the blonde who speaks, “Oh she’s polite?” He raises his brows as he walks over with a water bottle, “Didn’t expect that.”

He opens it and holds it up to your lips, allowing you to get a long awaited drink. You lean back, looking down, “I’m not going to pass out or start foaming at the mouth in two minutes am I?”

“She’s funny.” Colby says tilting his head, “No, y/n. You aren’t. But.. Why are you so calm?”

“I’m an FBI agent, but..” you tilt your head to Jake, “I’m sure you already knew that.”

Jake smirks and nods, “Yeah, we’ve been, well.. I’ve been following you for a while. You’re the talk of the town you know. Super sexy fbi agent solves ten year mystery in a week.”

“What’s your point?” You sigh and Jake tilts his head, “You are going to be our little spy.”

“Your little spy?” You furrow your brows and then it all clicks, “Killionaires.”

“What did you just say?” Jake asks leaning in and you swallow, “Each case we have we give nicknames too. I’m assuming.. you’re the ones who are killing the soulless scumbags who aren’t an inspiration to any?”

Jake purses his lips, a smirk forming as he nods, “You got my message.”

“I was literally at that scene.. well, I don’t know how long I’ve been.. here.” You look around and Jake shrugs, “Five hours, give or take.. and we left your fuck buddy super trooper in the car, along with your phone and anything else that could be tracked.”

You stare at Jake, “How do you know about that?”

He smirks, letting out a sigh, “Like I said. You’re the talk of the town, babe. I knew they were going to bring you in for us, so as soon as we started planning this, I had to get a head of you.”

“You fucking stalked me?” You scoff, “What the fuck.“

“Like I said. Right now, I want to know just how much your life is worth to you.” Jake stands up, “When ever you’re ready to tell me I’ll c-“

“I want to live. Okay.” You look up at Jake and he walks over to you, hands resting on the arm rests as he is inches away from your face, “I don’t think I believe you.”

You lean in, getting closer, “Do you want me to fucking cry? Beg for my life?”

Jake shrugs, eyes moving from your lips back up to your eyes, “Why do you want to live?” You hold your ground, “You seem to know all about me, you tell me.”

Jake chuckles, looking back to his friends then back to you. His laugh stops as soon as his hand is around your throat, a gasp from the sudden action escapes your lips, “The attitude was hot at first, but now you’re just pissing me off.”

A smile forms on your lips and he scoffs, shaking his head as he stares down at you. His voice is low, “I couldn’t kill you even if I had to.”

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip and you snap your head away, “If that’s why you br-“

“No. We brought you here because you can help us take out all the billionaires easier, fucking rob their bodies for what they got. Give back to what they want to take away and leave them out to fucking rot.”

You couldn’t lie. The motive behind Jake, and friend’s, ongoing crime, was valid, but with you being an active investigator, you were sworn to put these guys behind bars, not become a pawn in their scheme.

“We just want you to get information for us, mainly people who are really fucking people over.” Sam steps up and you look over at him, “What’s in it for me? Like.. I help you, I go to prison.”

You scoff, “Do you know what they do to agents in prison?”

“That’s the thing, sweetheart. You help us, we help you.” Jake explains, “All we want is the information on who’s planning to buy and knock down that hospital.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about, too.

“That hospital is in an area where kids are constantly falling and getting hurt. You have to see that we aren’t doing this just to get a thrill out of killing.” Colby steps up, “I mean, they deserve it, so it’s very satisfying, but we do it because we want to help people and no one wants to do anything about it.”

You look between them, your breathing growing more rapid, “Yeah, m’gonna pass o-“

——

You bring your hand up to your face, rubbing your eye before you stop. You pull your hand away and open your eyes, sitting up quickly when you realized you weren’t tied to the chair anymore.

You sit up quickly, and a little too quick at that, “Fuck.”

“Yeah I wouldn’t move, too fast.” Sam’s voice causes you to jump, “Sorry.” He chuckles, “Jake still thinks you’re a flight risk.”

You raise your brows, rubbing your hands on your wrists, “So where are we?”

“About three hours from New York City.”

You were surprised Sam told you, but then again, you felt oddly safe with them. You didn’t feel like you needed to be ready to fight off someone.

You didn’t feel on edge.

“Are you going to kill me?” You look over at Sam and he shakes his head as he stands up, walking over to meet Jake when he walks in, “Hey.”

You nod, “Hi.”

“Do you remember our-“

“Yes.” You cut him off, “I do.”

He nods, staring at you for a few seconds, “Do you hurt? Do you need anything?” He reaches up, fingers gently brushing over your bruised cheek, “Anything at all. You tell me, okay?”

Your eyes stay locked on his and you nod, “Thank you.”

He leans back, “We’re going back towards the city. If you made up your mind, we can take you back with us and you can walk in saying you don’t remember anything.. or-“

“I don’t want to die, Jake. I told you that.” You stand up, closing your eyes as you feel dizzy, “I’ll get you the information, but you have to keep my name out of it if you get caught.”

“That wasn’t the deal.” Jake shakes his head and you scoff, “You said, if I help you you help me-“

“We’ll be back.” Jake turns around and you walk over to him, “I’m coming with you!” You push his back and he turns around, leaning over you.

You lean back slightly as you stare up at him, “I’m coming.”

He tilts his head, “I would know if you are.” He winks and you roll your eyes, stepping back as you cross your arms, “What do I have to do to get you to believe that I won’t snitch?”

“I’ll get you the guy that wants your brother dead.”

You freeze, “W-what? No.. that can’t be possible the guy that shot him is-” Jake cuts you off, “A cover up for the guy who actually did it.”

You stare at him, “Who.”

He shakes his head, “No. Not until I get the information I want.” You step closer to Jake, “I promise I won’t do anything. I just want a name.”

“We all want names, y/n. The faster you get me what I want, the faster you get what you want.” Jake tilts his head, “Do we have a deal?”

You chew on your lip for a few seconds before sighing, “If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you myself.” You lay your hand into his and shake it as he smirks, “Feelings mutual, babe.”

——

“I just want you to know that you’re safe.” Jake’s voice breaks the silence and you look over at him, “What do you mean?”

“With us. Without us. Either way. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You laugh slightly, “I just don’t.. know how you expect me to be okay with this.”

“The only thing I expect from you is names, y/n. Everything else is on you.” Jake shakes his head, “I don’t want to kill you. If I wanted you dead or even thought about wanting you dead, you’d be dead.”

“You’re a killer, either way, Jake.”

“I’m a goddamn hero.”

You scoff, “Whatever. I’m going now.” Jake laughs, “Could have went twenty minutes ago.”

You roll your eyes, “No one told me that. I’m afraid if I make any sudden movement I’ll be sniped on site.”

Jake snickers as he shakes his head, “I’ll be seeing you around, y/n. Good luck.” You don’t say anything, you just get out and start walking down the dark alley. You did look pretty beat up, so wandering away from the scene is more than likely a believable story.

You hoped it was, at least.

You walk in and three officers quickly rush over to you, “Oh my god.”

“Someone get the Cheif!”

“Y/n, hey. What happened, where were you?”

You looked around before you pretended to pass out again, dropping to the floor. You laid there, eyes closed as you focused on your encounter with the Killionaires.

You feel people moving you, trying to shake you awake, but you don’t budge. You give it a few more minutes before you snap your eyes open and gasp.

“We have an ambulance coming for you, y/n.” The chief says as he bends down, “Can you tell us what happened?”

You shake your head, “I-I do-n’t.” You couldn’t lie, the feeling of agreeing to do this was weighing on you hard, but at the same time, you felt more safe with a group of random killers than you do right now.

You didn’t know what to do but start crying, “The acci-dent.. Cody..” you look up, “I-is he okay?”

The chief nods, “He’s in the hospital still, but he’s been asking about you. He woke up and you were gone. No one knew where you were.”

You let out a sigh, “O-okay.”

The EMT’s come in, telling people to make room and you’re taking to the hospital.

You were admitted almost immediately. They wanted to run all the tests so you were stuck there for a night.

It wasn’t long before Cody was pushed in, smiling as soon as he sees you, “Where the heck did you go?” You shrug your shoulders, “I couldn’t tell you, Heathers.”

He tilts his head, “Y/n.”

You sigh, “Cody. Right, sorry.” He shakes his head, “You call me whatever you want.” You smile and let out a sigh, “I remember I was in the cruiser with you, then we were hit and then I blacked out for a while.. I must have gotten out and went to the woods or something because I woke up under a tree.”

“You’re lucky to still be here. The damage to the car is.. I’m surprised you’re still here.” He moves closer and takes your hand into his.

“Was it a drunk driver?” You ask and he shrugs, “It was just me at the scene when someone else came rolling up onto it and called it in. I’m not even sure what happened myself.

Good, good, you think to yourself, “Hopfully we can figure it out. When are they discharging you?” He shrugs, hopfully this afternoon.”

“What time is it? What day is it?” You look around and Cody squeezes your hand, “Hey. Relax. It’s nine thirty in the morning and it’s Wednesday. The accident happened last night around seven.”

Sounds about right, or at least you thought it did.

You relax into the bed, “So I was thinking.” Cody chuckles, “When are you not thinking?” You smile and shrug, “I’m not sure, but anyway. I want to look into getting information about that hospital that’s closing its doors, maybe we help it stay open, get better supplies for it. There’s a lot of kids in that area, Cody.”

He stays quiet for a few minutes as he thinks, “We can move the families and such into protective custody.” He nods, “Y/n. That’s genius.”

Oh fuck.

You swallow, “Y-yeah. It is.”

——

“Everything came back normal. You were dehydrated and you’ll have a few bumps and bruises the next few weeks, but you’re going to make a full recovery.” The doctor smiles at you, closing your folder, “I’d stay out of work a few days, but other than that. You’re good to go home.”

You nod, moving the blankets off of your legs, “Thank you so much.”

“I’ll have someone come in and remove that IV for you.”

You nod and rest your head back, waiting patiently for the nurse to come in, which is rather fast in your opinion. She comes in smiling, settting stuff beside you before grabbing gloves.

There’s a knock on the door and it slides open, “I hear they’re discharging you. Is it safe to come in?”

“Yes, Cody. You can come in.” You laugh slightly as you watch him walk in. The girl puts a bandage on your arm and walks out.

“I just have to change and then I’m free to leave.” You stand up and Cody moves next to you. As much as you liked Cody, and as much as you shouldn’t, you couldn’t stop thinking about Jake.

“Y/n?”

“What?” You look up at him, “Sorry. I’m so tired.” You laugh slightly as you move your hair for him to untie your gown.

“I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you wouldn’t want to put your dirty ones back on.” He lays the stuff on the bed and you nod, “Thank you.”

——

Cody walks you up to your door and you get this odd feeling not to let him in, “Thank you, again. I will be sure to give my brother a call and let him know that I’m home safe and sound.”

“I can stay if you-“

You cut him off, “It’s okay. I’m home. I’m going to be home. I’ll call if I need anything.” You reach out and touch his arm, “You’ve done so much for me already.”

He nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead, “I mean anything.”

You nod, “I know.” You watch as he walks back to his car and as soon as you turn back to your door, you twist the knob.

To which is already unlocked.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” Jake says as he stands up from your couch, “Cute little place you got here. It’s nice to actually see the inside.”

You close your door, letting out a sigh as you set your paperwork on the counter, “Do you have to make everything weird?”

He walks over and leans down on the counter, “I mean, I’m just that kind of guy I guess.” He smiles and you aren’t sure if it’s the pain killers, or what but you liked his smile.

“What did they give you for pain, y/n?” You toss the bag with the medicine bottle inside and he nods, “C’mon. I have something better for you.”

He holds his hand out and you feel like you have no other choice but to follow his orders, you and now your brother’s lives are at stake.

You intertwine your fingers with his and he leads you outback to your patio. It was fairly private, so you didn’t have to worry about nosey neighbors snitching on you to your bother, or even Cody.

You sit down on the patio couch, Jake sitting next to you after pulling something from his pocket. Your eyes go wide when you see what he’s lighting and you stand up, “Jake. I cannot do that.”

“Just sit down. You don’t do it regular so it’ll be out of your system in like three, I don’t know five days tops?” He takes a hit and you don’t know if it would be considered Stockholm syndrome or what, but you felt like you needed this man sitting before you.

“You said three days?” You ask sitting down next to him and he nods, exhaling the smoke, “Three days, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” You scrunch up your nose, slowly bringing the joint to your lips and inhaling. You close your eyes, instantly feeling the high setting in, “It’s weird.” You breathe out, handing it back to Jake.

“Take another, sweetheart. You deserve it.” He pushes your hand back up to your lips, encouraging you to take another hit, to which you do.

Your body relax into the patio couch, you cough with this one, covering your mouth as Jake takes the joint from your fingers.

Once you calm down, Jake looks at you, “Why do you trust me?”

“I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t have drank the water, hit this joint, or even sat in the car with me for twenty minutes when you could have left.”

“I was thirsty enough. I’m in that much pain, and I didn’t know if I was going to get shot or now.” You shrug, smirking as he just stares at you.

You tilt your head, “Why don’t you want to kill me?”

Jake laughs, giving you back the joint, “Alright, now you’re pushing it.” He looks over at you as you take another drag, “You can get something I need. Why would I want to get rid of something that benefits me?”

“I mean..” You exhale the smoke, “..I guess that’s fair. I don’t know.” You shrug with a laugh. Jake shakes his head, “You are pretty hot. I will give you that, too.”

“You’re not so bad lookin’ yourself, you know.” You purse your lips, “So what else do you want from me? I feel like you’re being too lenient with me. Aren’t murders supposed to be. scary?”

“You’re saying you’re not even the slightest bit scared of me, or any of my friends you’ve met?” Jake raises his brows and you nod, “I wouldn’t be sitting here, doing something I shouldn’t be doing, with someone like you.”

“I’m just..” he shakes his head, “Amazed, I guess? I was expecting you to put up a fight once you woke up.”

“Well, with the way Johnnie hit me, I won’t be fighting for a few weeks.” You sigh, “So what? Are you just going to keep killing?”

“While you work to get me the names I need, yes.”

You nod, “Okay.” You look down, “I know this is wrong.. but..” You look out into your yard and Jake tilts his head, “Say it, baby.”

You side eye him about the nickname and shake your head, “I agree with what you’re doing. I do, I’m just.. also under oath to protect and serve and this is not me protecting and serving.”

Jake turns towards you, hand reaching out to gently turn your head towards him, “I promise, y/n. When this is all said and done, you won’t have to worry about anything ever again.”

“I just want my name kept out of it. I can’t go to prison, Jake.”

He nods, “You’re too pretty for that place, they would eat you alive, literally.” He smirks slightly and you roll your eyes, “Oh my god. You’re right, but knock it off.”

He smiles and you shake your head, “I’m serious. I’ll get you the list of names, but that’s it.”

“Can you do one other thing for me?” Jake tilts his head and you sigh, “What.”

“I’ve always wanted to cross off fucking an FBI agent off of my bucket list.” He smirks and you stand up, “We can’t do that, we might fall in love.”

Jake stands up, following you inside, “What’s so wrong about that?”

“Everything is wrong about that. My life is on the line no matter which way you look.” You take a deep breath, “I’ll make a call, I’ll have an officer bring everything to me. I’ll have someone email me a list of potential names but Jake..”

“What?”

“You have to move fast.” You swallow, “I said something about getting a list of names and they’re probably already looking at moving them into protective custody.”

His jaw clenches and you could tell he was pissed, but he wasn’t going to take it out on you, “I gotta go. If we’re doing this, you need to get that shit tonight.”

He walks towards your back door and you just stand there, you didn’t know what to do about this situation. The only thing you could really do in general is get that case information brought over, as soon as possible.

——

You stand up as there’s a knock on your door. As you make your way over to look out, you see an officer from the station and you let out a slight sigh of relief.

“Hey Nat.” You smile, moving away so she can bring in the box, “You can just get it down on my coffee table in the living room.”

You close the door and walk in. She looks up at you, “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, “Doc gave me pain meds. They seem to be helping. I want to come back.”

“You take all the time you need, we aren’t sure what this accident was, and if it was about the current case..” She shakes her head, “We need you safe.”

“I know. I know.” You laugh slightly, “I get so stir crazy. Nothing like this has happened to me before.”

Especially the part where you were kidnapped and bribed by the current suspects in a massive case.

“I get off at five. I can bring dinner?” She tilts her head and you nod, “Please.”

She gets a call in her radio and she raises her brows at you as she answers, “McAndrews responding.” She looks up at you, “Duty calls.”

You smile and walk over to the door, closing it as she runs down the steps. You turn around and gasp, body jolting as you see Jake and Colby standing there.

“Sorry.” Colby laughs, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Uh huh.” You walk but then stop, “We’re you watching me?” You look at Jake and he smirks, “How was your nap?”

You ignore him and walk back into the living room, “This is everything, but go into my bedroom or something. They’re going to have people checking in and doing surveillance.”

Jake bites his lower lip, looking at you as Colby grabs the box, “The list of names in there?”

You hold your stare on his, “Should be right on top.”

His eyes move down to your lips and he smirks, “Thank you Agent Y/l/n.” He goes to turn and you grab his arm, his head snapping down to look at your hand, “What.”

“Where’s your end of the deal?” You push him to face you and he steps closer to you, “I don’t think you can handle taking care of a man like this.”

“What makes you say that?”

At this point you were both whispering to each other, bodies inches from each others, anger rising quickly within you, “Huh?”

He raises his brows, “I think, you’re all bark. No bite. You shoot when you have to, not when you want to.“

“What aren’t you telling me?” You furrow your brows and Jake chuckles, “What do you mean?” You shake your head, “There’s more to it, Jake. Isn’t there?”

He shakes his head, looking away as he tries to figure out something to say.

You challenged him more than he knew, and that’s never happened to him before.

“You’re smart.” He says as he looks back at you, “Figure it out yourself.” He goes to walk away and you don’t even think, you shove him in the back and he whips around, backing you into the wall.

He just stares down at you. You clench your jaw, hands pushing into his chest, “We had a deal.”

“Yeah? And? What are you going to do? Turn us into the cops?” He leans in close, lips brushing against yours, “Let me tell you something, sweetheart, we go down. you go down, too.”

You watch as he leans back, looking you up and down, “I see why your best friend’s brother loves to come over after shifts. I wouldn’t be able to stay away from the fire either.”

He walks backwards, turning as you stay silent and watch him go back the hall.

You couldn’t lie, you were absolutely flustered, but pissed.

You walked back the hall, leaning against the doorframe as you watched them go through the folders, “Try and keep everything where it was please.”

Your voice was quiet and Colby looks up, giving you a nod, “We will.” There’s a knock on your door and you whip your head over, “I don’t know who that is, so just please. Go into the guest room and please..” you look at Jake with a pleading look, “Stay in there.”

He stares at you as another knock on the door sounds and he nods to Colby, “C’mon.”

You watch as they go in, “They look in the windows, stay hidden.”

“I know the drill, babe.” Jake winks as he closes the door and locks it. You sigh as you rush to the door, opening it to reveal the chief of police, “Hey, y/n. How are you feeling?”

You motion for him to come in, “I’ve been better.” You laugh slightly and he nods, turning to look at you, “Yeah, yeah. Did McAndrews being over the files and stuff that you asked for?”

You nod, “She did. I actually, passed out while going over them.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He shakes his head, “I just came by to tell you that we decided that since we have no information on the other driver of vehicle, I’m going to have an officer posted here until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Whatever works best for you, Chief.” You smile and he walks towards the door, “If you need anything at all. Please do not hesitate to let whoever know. You know all of them.”

You laugh as you open the door, “Thank you. I’ll be sure to keep them in the loop.”

“Alright. Rest up, don’t strain yourself.” He points and you point back, “You know I can’t help it.” You close the door and let out a sigh, locking it before going back to your bedroom.

“I told you to-“

“I know what you said.” Jake says, “But we don’t have time to waste.” He stands up, “Colby. We got it.”

Colby moves, glancing at you as he walks by you. Jake stops right infront of you, chest almost on yours, “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

He leans in, gently pressing his lips to your temple and you close your eyes, taking in a slow breath as he tilts his head down, lips right at your ear as he whispers, “I hope this was enough time for you to fall in love with me.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“I’ll think of you when I do.” He winks and leaves with Colby, sneaking out without a trace of them even being there.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Holy fuck. Okay. Please for the love of Jake Webber tell me how this was !! I need to know! I love you all, thank you so so so much for waiting on this, I know it’s not exactly what I had originally planned, but TRUST!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[princessbrunette]

i feel like Barry would tease her by calling her a bad girl even though she’s the sweetest little thing and she takes it personally bc she tries her hardest to be the best girl for rafe. like they’ll be having a conversation and rafe will tell him something she did, or a tantrum she threw and Barry will be like “oh, so it’s like that? you’re naughty”in fake disappointment and shock and she’d whine and try to defend herself (“he was being mean!” “i was sleepy!”) much to his amusement.

THIS IS SO REAL !!!!!!!

rafe just talking about u like ur not there whilst u sit next to him all ashamed of yourself :( he’s dividing up the money on the table or something as he speaks, barry staring right across at you with a smirk, shaking his head faux disapprovingly.

“so it’s like that, huh? you a bad girl now? shit, sweetheart. i never would’a guessed it, but now lookin’ at you i can see it in your eyes.” his smile only grows when you start shaking your head, looking at rafe for help — who truly doesn’t care, continuing to count the money under his breath, flicking through the notes.

“its not true! barry i was tired that day… and rafe was being unfair. i’m not bad!” you get all whiny, rafe chiming in with a little comment, too focused on counting to really care though.

“you fuckin’ are sometimes, i’ll tell you that much. pain in my ass. pass me the clip.” he holds his hand out to barry, waiting for the money clip to arrive in his palm, directing the last part at him.

barry reaches over, pressing the clip onto rafes hand as he grins at you, and whilst he’s there lightly nudging under your chin with his knuckle making you squirm and huff.

“you gotta get that on lock, country club. shit, you better start disciplinin’ her better before i do it myself.” his wolf like predatory behaviour only thinly veiled by a smile, barry pets your head and rafe snaps out of his concentration finally, looking between the two of you, seeing your shy and prey like reaction.

“alright, fuckin’ back up off her, would you? shit. she’s fine the way she is i was playing, and it’s not your fuckin’ job to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.” rafe pushes him back, and barry holds his hands up with a laugh, returning to his seat.

“i’m just sayin’.”

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Got a little bit of an angst prompt but...

After witnessing something go wrong on a mission, Hotch has Reader do a mental wellness check. At first, Reader says he's fine and all that, but the team still convinces him to do it. It goes well, he answers questions (he's honest about his answers. For example, he's not afraid to die because it's just a new chapter to a book). He ends up talking about "these weird anxiety attack things. Like they're sudden and I know what triggers them but I don't know what they are."

In short, the wellness check turns out to reveal that Reader has c-ptsd panic attacks triggered by mostly loud noises, yelling, abandonment. This makes reader break into tears when he's told this because he feels like he finally understands what is "wrong" with him. This surprises the team because no one expects the sunshine guy to have anything related to ptsd

(Maybe a little cuddle party on the plane between reader, Derek, and Spencer? Can be romo or bromo)

Hiya, sorry it's taken yonks for me to write this

Warnings: panic attack, dissociation, blood, gun, mentions of death, hints (obvious hints) to child abuse.

You felt her blood splatter on your face, as your eyes snapped shut with the familiar bang of a gun. You hear the victim fall to the floor but you had squeezed your eyes shut at the sound. Another shot goes off and you force your eyes open as you see the unsub drop to the floor.

You're silent on the way back, blood on your face forgotten as you follow the team back to the SUVs. When you're back, you follow the team up to the bullpen when You jump when a hand is placed on your shoulder, your head snapped up. You looked up, seeing Morgan. It's the look on his face that reminds you that you're covered in blood.

"(Y/N)-"

"I'm fine. I just- I need to wash my face." You said, disregarding anything Morgan had to say, making a beeline to the toilets. Naturally, he followed.

"Talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

"Nothing." You say, giving him a lopsided smile, face now blood-free and dripping wet. You grab a couple of paper towels, drying your face off. "Everything's fine, don't worry."

The team gave you a few days of peace (minus the worried looks). And by a few days, it was two, so a couple of days, really. They led you in with a false sense of security - a cup of coffee. You should have known they had an ulterior motive.

"Guys, I'm fine, really." You sigh, giving them a small smile.

"Just do it anyway," JJ says. "Even if you are fine, there's no harm in it."

"Do it for us," Garcia bats her eyelashes at you and you immediately cave. God damnit, how is she so persuasive?

And so, a few days later, you were sat in a psychologist's office. It was quite a nice office, actually. And they let you sit on the couch (that's how you know you must have looked like an anxious mess).

"Yeah, I'm fine." You say, giving a small nod. "The only thing is sometimes I get these weird anxiety things?"

"What do you mean?" She leans forward slightly.

"Like they're just these sudden bouts of anxiety," You give a small shrug.

"Can you describe it for me?"

"Er, yeah, sure. It's just like I'm trapped in my head. Like I just shutdown. I don't really know how to explain it," You give a small, nervous laugh. "It's just like I'm stuck in my head and I can't form a thought but my mind is racing, and I feel like I can't breathe."

She nods in understanding, "And how do you feel when that happens?"

"Scared."

"Why?"

"Because its like I'm trapped. And it's just this sinking feeling," You said, swallowing slightly. "And- and it's like I can speak, but I can't. Like the words get built up in my throat and I know what I want to say, I just, can't bring myself to speak."

"And... what can spark these off?"

"Um, I'm not really sure? Like if someone takes a certain tone, I guess? I don't know, it just makes me feel like a little kid and it makes me panic,"

She nods for a moment, jotting that down.

The appointment passes fairly quickly and you find yourself opening up to her as each minute ticks by. When the hour's up, she puts her notebook and pen down gently.

"I think it would be beneficial if we met weekly." She says, with a small smile. "Just to help you work through this anxiety, give you some coping mechanisms."

"Oh God, this isn't one of those things where you say to have a cup of tea or something, is it?"

She gives a laugh, "No, no, nothing like that."

"Good. I might have walked out otherwise." You give her a small smile, letting her know you were only half joking.

When the appointment was over, she let you have a few minutes alone in the room to gather yourself. It took you a few moments, you even tried out the square breathing technique she taught you. You straightened yourself out before standing up and leaving the room.

You go straight to your desk, keeping your head slightly ducked. You just really didn't fancy the socialising right now. You absolutely loved your team, but you'd rather just let yourself try to destress before the questions began.

"Are you alright?" Hotch asks, eyebrows furrowed as he approached you. He had waited a few minutes before he approached.

"Ye-" The word falls flat on your tongue and instead you just pause, trying to find the word. Why couldn't you find the word?

Hotch, sensing this, steers you gently into the unattended office to the right.

"I don't know." Is all you manage. "I don't think so." Hotch watches in concern as you blink. "No. No, I don't think so. Probably not. I don't think I am."

Hotch watches you for a moment before quietly sitting next to you. "Can you tell me what's going on?" You bite the inside of your cheeks before you gently shake your head. "No? Okay, that's okay. Did you want me to just sit here with you?"

You give a gentle nod, trying desperately to focus on breathing. It takes a while for you to calm down, but eventually, your heart starts to slow to a regular pace.

"You want to talk about it?" You shake your head and Hotch gives you an understanding look. "Okay, if you change your mind, I'm here."

"Thank you."

No one brings it up again. Until one morning on a case, you're on edge already, tossing and turning all night but unsure as to why you couldn't sleep. You're at the latest crime scene, it's the third body that's turned up since you've been there and the team are running on very little sleep.

A car door slams and it feels like it jolts through your body, matched with the yelling you can hear, you just freeze, breath catching in the back of your throat. Your father's voice echoes through your mind as he and your mother scream back and forth, the door slamming and the yelling becoming slightly more distant.

"(Y/N)?" Your eyes flick up to Morgan.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." You answer quietly, giving him your very best attempt at a reassuring smile. You turn your attention back in front of you, watching a father grab his son's wrist, tugging him back. You know it's nothing, you had just watched the boy go to step out into the road. It's just a worried father stopping his son from getting hurt, but the skin on your wrist burns nonetheless. Your lungs are quick to follow.

Morgan's in front of you, trying to guide your breathing. It's rugged and you feel like you're dying. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest, hands trembling. And yet, despite all of these feelings in your body, you've checked out. You no longer feel real, none of this feels real.

You can't feel your calves. Are you supposed to feel your calves? Can you normally feel your calves? What about your back? And your forearms, you can't feel your forearms. That's weird right? Surely you could normally feel your forearms.

"Hey, hey, talk to me." Morgan says gently.

"I can't feel my forearms. Or my calves." You say, you swallow slightly, "I'm supposed to feel them, right?"

"Okay, let's sit you down, okay?" Morgan gently guides you to a bench and you sit. "It sounds like you're dissociating, so we're just going to take a seat for a minute, alright?"

"Okay."

The case was solved not long after that, and you all piled back onto the jet. You had dibsed the couch and halfway through, Morgan approached you.

"Scoot over."

"Why?"

"So I can tie my shoelaces- why do you think?" He gave you a grin, sitting down next to you. "Come here."

You looked around, everyone else was asleep. You gave a small, mental shrug before leaning against the taller man.

"Thanks for earlier." You smiled. "Sorry I freaked out a bit."

"You don't have to thank me. And you didn't freak out."

"I did freak out." You corrected, "I was panicking because I couldn't feel my calves."

"Okay, yeah, maybe you freaked out a little." He chuckled quietly, "But you don't have to apologise for that."

[yan-lorkai]

Since I checked that suggestive fic are fine could you write one for Jamil where reader has been pining for him for a long time but he is hesitant since he has Kalim to take care off and can't slack off or smth

Ignore if you want :) and sorry if I overlooked a rule!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've made you wait quite a bit, darling, but I finally finished writing this ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾. Though I let it end in a happy ending, originally it was going to end in a more bittersweet way. Either way, I hope you like it!

You had always known there was something about Jamil that captivated you, pulling you in with each passing day. He was more than just the stoic and responsible figure that stood in Kalim’s shadow. He was hardworking, kind and always reliable, traits that only made your heart ache with longing. For so long, you kept your feelings hidden, knowing he carried more responsibility than anyone should, but tonight, something in you snapped.

You watched Jamil move through the courtyard, his shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of the day. You couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to tell him how you felt, even if you knew there was a risk he might push you away. He needed to know that there was he could lean on.

"Jamil," you called out softly, your voice barely carrying across the courtyard. His steps slowed, and he turned toward you, his usual unreadable expression in place.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice steady but his eyes filled with that quiet exhaustion you had come to recognize.

You swallowed, nerves threatening to choke your words. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

Jamil raised a brow, stepping closer. “I’m listening.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you gathered your courage. “I, uh… Well, Jamil, I like you. A lot. I know you’re always busy, taking care of Kalim, and I know how hard you work, but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way. I've been holding onto those feelings for a very long time.”

For a moment, there was silence. Jamil blinked, visibly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to hesitate, his brows furrowing in deep thought.

You pressed on, feeling your chest tighten. “I just wanted you to know. I know you have a lot on your plate, and I don’t want to be a burden, but I had to tell you how I feel.”

Jamil exhaled slowly, his eyes softening as he watched you. He looked like he wanted to say something, but again, the weight of his responsibilities seemed to pull him back.

“It’s not that I don’t…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I can’t afford to get distracted right now. Kalim needs me. I can’t let my guard down, even if it’s for something — someone — I care about.”

Your breath hitched at his words but before you could respond, a familiar voice broke through the tension.

“Oh, come on, Jamil!” Kalim’s voice rang out from behind the nearby fountain, startling both of you. He stepped out from behind the marble structure with a wide grin, looking between you and Jamil like this was the best thing he’d ever witnessed. “I knew you liked them too! You don’t have to worry about me so much!”

Jamil’s eyes widened in shock, a flush creeping up his neck. “Kalim — what are you — how long have you been listening?”

Kalim waved off Jamil’s question with a laugh, completely unbothered. “Long enough! I wasn’t spying, I promise, but I heard some of what you said. Jamil, you work so hard, but you’re allowed to be happy too! I can take care of myself sometimes, you know.” He grinned, glancing at you. “And besides, I think they’d make you really happy, they always looked at you with such adoring eyes!”

Your heart fluttered, unsure of what to say. Kalim, in his usual cheerful way, had just dismantled all the walls Jamil had carefully built around himself.

“Kalim, it’s not that simple,” Jamil muttered, still looking flustered.

Kalim crossed his arms, his grin never fading. “It is that simple! You deserve to have someone who cares about you. I’ll be fine! And, you know, I kinda already figured you liked them.”

Jamil looked down, clearly battling with himself, but Kalim’s words seemed to have chipped away at his resolve. He glanced back at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and… something else.

After a long pause, Jamil let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I do like you. More than I’ve wanted to admit,” He finally said, his voice soft but sincere. “But I’ve always been worried that if I let myself have something for me, it’ll somehow mess everything up.”

You stepped closer, your heart swelling with hope. “You won’t mess anything up, Jamil. You deserve to have something for yourself, too. I’m not asking you to change anything — I just want to be there for you, like you’re always there for everyone else.”

Jamil looked at you for a long moment, and finally, his tense posture relaxed. He exhaled deeply, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Maybe… you’re right.”

Kalim clapped his hands, clearly thrilled with the way things were unfolding. “See? This is great! I’ll be fine, Jamil. You two go ahead and be happy together!”

Jamil shot him a look, but there was no real bite behind it. Instead, he turned his attention back to you, his eyes softening in a way you’d never seen before. “I can’t promise I’ll always get it right,” he murmured, his hand reaching for yours. “But I’ll try. If you’re willing to put up with that.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with warmth as you took his hand. “I’m more than willing.”

As you stood there, hand in hand with Jamil, Kalim grinning like he had just orchestrated the happiest ending possible, you couldn’t help but feel that, maybe, everything had finally fallen into place.

[kelcemenow]

Train Hard, Love Harder.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 476

Warnings A little strong language and suggestive themes, but it's just a fluffy one.

And it's yet another Anon request! "helloooo can you please do one where the reader and Travis are dating and they go to the gym together and they’re like those gym couples on tiktok"

Travis' grunts echoed loudly around the room and as you glanced over your shoulder, you met his gaze with a grin.

Travis finished his final set and carefully let go of the chest press bar, his eyebrows lowered, "What?"

"You're making the same noises that you make when you're fucking me!" You said quietly with a short giggle.

"Relax, there's no one here." He wiped his glistening brow with a towel before taking a few steps towards you, "Why? Is it putting you off your work out?"

You rolled your eyes and shook your head gently, turning back to look up at the pull-up bar that was slightly above your head.

"Is it...turning you on?" His arms found their way around your waist, and his body pressed firmly into yours from behind.

Gripping the cool, metal bar with both hands, you curved your back and turned your face closer to his, "No, but it is ruining my video for TikTok."

Travis' head snapped sideways to see your cell phone propped up on the weights rack. He leaned back, his eyes closing as he bellowed a loud laugh, "Aww man! Is it recording?"

"Yeah, I wanted to film my progress on this thing." You lightly tapped the pull up bar, "But something tell me that your presence in my video will shift the focus onto something else."

Travis grinned as he held onto the vertical bar, swinging himself around to face you, his lips only inches away from yours, "I'll hide myself away then."

You accepted his light kiss, the heat radiating from his skin and onto yours when an idea sprang into your mind, "Or?"

"Or, what?" Travis looked to you, curiously.

"What if you appear in my videos?" Your eyes were wide with potential concepts, "We could do a 'My Girlfriend Tries My Off-Season Workout' sort of thing?"

Travis' lips thinned and his brow lowered, "I thought you didn't want me getting involved with your TikTok stuff? Something about people saying your videos were only successful because of the tall, handsome and incredibly talented football player?"

"I'm pretty sure I didn't say handsome."

Travis clutched his chest, "Ooh cold. Are you sure?"

"Sure that I didn't say handsome or sure about you being in some of my videos?"

He gently reached out for your hand, "Both. Look, I know what those comments are like sometimes. People are dicks, but people online are even bigger dicks. I just don't want some asshole tearing down what you've built." He pressed a kiss into your knuckles, "And you definitely said handsome."

You let out a laugh, your eyes creasing, "Alright. Maybe I did. And I'm sure about this, I really think it would be fun!

Travis nodded gently as he pondered over the idea, "Okay, I'll do it. Now, first of all, shall we discuss my appearance fee?"

______________________________________________________________

Huge thank you to the Anon who requested this...Lord knows they've been waiting a long time for it!

As always, if you would like to be included onto my Taglist, just let me know! That way, you'll never miss my writing! (even thought it is a bit sporadic at the moment!)

Taglist  @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 

@countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 

@luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 

@s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry 

@calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989 @ajbird18 @triski73 @ctn26 @kgcaputo07 @abby-splace @bobthe-turmpetman29 

@cedricbitch @abby-splace @jmamas92 @bellstwd @killatravsworld @marchmaiden @chimchimmarie @blackstabbath6 @fanficfanatic15 @jessiemariebarnes 

@mmb219 @vanwritesfan-fiction @futebollover @ks-dreams-fantasies @laurenmcucm @blackstabbath6 @nickie-amore @fictionqueen87 @munsonburner666 @hornyavengers

@spookystitchery @powellssaturn @skywalker0809 @shortttcakkee @my-secret-hideaway @shelbygeek @mimisweetz @wildxwidow