#run up and put his hands over the mouth of someone who was trying to give an interview

[ruewrote]

𝑖 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛.

PAIRING: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader WARNINGS: ignorance, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: keep that to yourself by tristan WORD COUNT: 1.5k

navigation | ask | boku no hero academia masterlist

you were done. completely, utterly done. you weren’t about to keep bending over backwards for someone who couldn’t be bothered to meet you halfway. 

katsuki had been late to dinner before, hell, he’d been late to everything since the day you started dating him, but tonight was different. the irritation had been building for weeks and all it took was the sound of him slamming through the door without so much as a greeting to set you off.

you didn’t look up from your phone as he stormed in, his hero gear clattering onto the couch. every time he came in late, you used to ask him how his day went, try to ease his mood, but you were tired of this petty routine. you weren’t his emotional punching bag nevermind his damn therapist.

so you stayed silent, continuing to scroll through your feed, ignoring him as thoroughly as he’d been ignoring you. you didn’t even bother setting the table. he could find his own damn plate if he cared that much.

“long day?” you finally asked, your voice flat, barely caring enough to acknowledge him. 

“yeah,” bakugou grunted, not even sparing you a glance as he rummaged through the fridge for something to drink. “like usual.”

you raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cold, untouched dinner you’d made hours ago, just sitting there on the counter. he didn’t ask about it. didn’t even ask if you’d eaten. typical.

after slamming the fridge door shut, he chugged half a bottle of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and started back off towards the door again.

“where are you going?” you asked, voice sharp.

he paused but didn’t turn around. “gotta train,” he said over his shoulder, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

your jaw clenched. of course.

you exhaled slowly, keeping your voice calm despite the rising anger. “you just got home and now you’re leaving again?”

bakugou finally turned to face you, his eyebrows knitted together in irritation. “i can’t slack off. i gotta get stronger, you know this.”

you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “right. because that’s all that matters, huh?”

he glared at you. “what the hell’s your problem? i’m doing what i normally do.”

“can you just stay with me? just this once?” 

“you know i can't.” 

you stood up from the couch, setting your phone down with more force than necessary. “i’m not asking you to slack off. i’m asking you to actually treat me like i exist. but sure, go ahead. go and train. clearly, it’s more important than me.”

bakugou scowled, clearly not expecting a fight tonight. “don’t start with this shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “i’m busting my ass out there, doing what i need to do. i don’t have time to coddle you.”

your eyes narrowed, the final thread of your patience snapping. coddle? is he serious?

you stepped forward, staring him down. “i’m not asking you to coddle me, katsuki. i’m asking you to give a damn. you come in late, don’t say a word, leave without even acknowledging me, do you even realize how selfish you’re being?”

he rolled his eyes, clearly getting annoyed. “i’m selfish? you’re the one whining because i’ve got real shit to do. you know what it’s like out there, so why the hell are you making this about you?”

the arrogance, the complete lack of awareness, it was almost laughable. but you weren’t laughing. you were done holding your tongue. done waiting for him to magically understand.

“no, katsuki,” you said, voice cold. “you’re the one making this about you. it’s always about you. your work, your training, your goals. meanwhile, i’m here, putting up with your bullshit, and i don’t get so much as a thank you.” 

he opened his mouth to argue, but you cut him off.

“y’know what?” you snapped, crossing your arms. “i don’t need this. i don’t need you. you’re so damn convinced that you’re doing me a favor just by being in my life, but here’s a reality check, i’m here because i choose to be. not because i have to. i’m not some trophy girlfriend who’s just going to stick around while you treat me like shit and if you think that then you’re fucking wrong.”

bakugou's eyes flashed with anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “i don’t need to deal with this right now.”

you stared at him for a long moment, your chest tightening with a surge of cold. for a second, you’d almost expected him to fight for you. but this? this was all he had to offer you?

“okay.”

you turned on your heel and started walking toward the bedroom, your movements calm and deliberate. you didn’t slam the door. didn’t shout or cry or plead. just…walked away.

“wait, what the hell are you doing?” his voice echoed from behind you, but you didn’t stop. didn’t even look back.

bakugou stayed rooted to the spot, watching you disappear down the hallway. there was something different about you tonight, something that made his chest tighten with the slightest hint of unease. you didn’t yell at him. didn’t hurl insults or throw anything. just a simple, calm okay.

that wasn’t normal. that wasn’t you.

bakugou cursed under his breath, stalking after you, but when he reached the bedroom door, he froze.

you were packing. calmly, methodically, pulling clothes out of drawers and folding them into a suitcase. your movements were so deliberate, so precise, like you weren’t even upset. like you’d already made up your mind.

“oi.” his voice came out rough, harsher than he intended. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

you didn’t even look up. “i’m leaving, katsuki.”

he blinked, staring at you like you’d just slapped him. “the fuck you are,” he growled, stepping into the room. “you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

you didn’t respond, simply continuing to pack your things. each item folded with care, each movement speaking louder than any argument you could’ve had. you weren’t making a scene. you were making a statement.

bakugou’s heart started to pound in his chest, he wasn’t used to this. you were always the one who’d argue, push him, try to get him to open up. but this quiet, collected version of you? it scared the hell out of him.

“i’m serious,” he said, voice wavering slightly. “stop.”

you paused for a moment, glancing over at him with cold, detached eyes. “why should i?”

he opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. he didn’t have an answer. not one that would make sense. not one that didn’t sound selfish as hell. 

you let out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking your head. “that’s what i thought.”

bakugou stood there, frozen, his mind racing. you weren’t bluffing. he could see it in the way you moved, in the way you didn’t hesitate. you were serious. dead serious.

“damn it,” he muttered, stepping forward. “look, just…stop for a second. we can talk about this.”

you shook your head, zipped up the suitcase and dragged it off of the bed. “i already tried talking. you didn’t listen.”

“oi, i listen–”

“no, katsuki,” you interrupted, your voice sharp now. “you don’t. i’ve been telling you for weeks how i feel, and you’ve ignored me. i’ve waited, and waited, and all you’ve done is prove that i don’t matter. that this doesn’t matter.”

his eyes widened, panic flickering across his face. “that’s not–”

“it is,” you snapped, your voice finally cracking with anger. “and you know what? i’m done waiting for you to figure it out. i’m done trying to prove to you that i deserve better.”

bakugou’s breath hitched, you were actually going to leave. he could see it now. see the determination in your eyes, the way you didn’t even hesitate.

“wait– just…wait,” he muttered, stepping closer, his hands hovering uselessly at his sides. 

“don’t go.”

you sighed, your eyes softening just a fraction. “give me one good reason why i should stay.”

he opened his mouth, but for the first time in his life, words failed him. his usual arrogance, his stubborn pride, it all felt so small, so insignificant in the face of losing you. 

“i…” he swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. “i need you.”

you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move, waiting for him to continue.

“i know i’m a shitty boyfriend sometimes,” he admitted, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “but i need you. i just…i didn’t realize how much until now.”

you stood there for a long moment, eyes locked with his, weighing his words. he looked so uncharacteristically vulnerable, so desperate, like he was finally starting to understand.

“i’ll do better,” he added quickly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i swear, i’ll try harder. just…don’t leave.”

silence hung heavy in the air, the weight of his words sinking in.

finally, you exhaled, shoulders slumping slightly. “no,” you said firmly, looking him in the eyes. 

“you should’ve done better, katsuki. i’ve been giving you all these chances, and you threw them away. you don’t get to promise me better after treating me like i’m practically invisible.”

he blinked, stepping forward. “but i’m saying i’ll change–”

you cut him off. “it’s too late.”

"i may be the one that's leaving but you're the one that walked out on us."

with one final glance, you grabbed your suitcase and walked out the door.

and this time, katsuki didn’t stop you.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[jayhyunglover]

S for Studying or Sylus.

Inspired by his myth

Warmings: none just fluff , mentions of burning

Pt2 here

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How did I get here ? That's actually a good question. Let's say I got thrown or offered?

Whatever I was thrown there in a fucking chest.

Why am I here? To learn obviously . Learn about that creature hiding in this crypt full of treasures.

I got up dusting my clothes before adjusting my glasses over my nose. Jerome the small chameleon in my hair rested on top of my head to observe our surroundings. Taking an once over of the crypt before looking down at the chasm beneath my feet.

If I tripped I'll be dead for sure but I am gonna die in a few weeks anyway. I shrugged

"Well well well , what do we have here?" I heard a deep voice said the sound more like a rumble making me turn around to take in the figures behind me

"HOLY SHIT" I shouted before running to hide behind the chest I arrived in.

I wasn't a coward (well I didn't think so) but when I read about a Dragon from my late uncle's notes I was thinking about some I don't know 20ft tall reptile with wings and tail not a fucking *beautiful* man with wings and tail.

I peered up at him from where I was hiding taking in his silver hair, red blood eyes and dark scales. A red Gem was embedded in his chest pulsing light faintly

"I must say it's the first time someone reacts so strongly to my presence. I don't know if I should be flattered or offended" he spoke again his voice a rich deep baritone that sent tremors in my body.

"So little one" he leaned down resting a feet against the chest to look at me , crimson eyes hypnotizing "may I know who you are ? And how did you find you find your way in my lair?"

My mouth was wide open , my eyes probably bulging out of their sockets.

Why is he so beautiful and majestic and Gosh that blood red gem glinting against his chest. Was it his heart? I had so many questions but found myself asking the most stupid one.

"Are dragon always that beautiful?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion before he threw his head back and laugh

Laugh? Why is he laughing did I say something funny ?

"My , my , my , you're surely something Little human" he pushed the chest with his feet before crouching down in front of me his scorpion like tail flicking to brush against my face making Jerome shift and hid deeper in my hair the sight earning a surprised look from him.

"You're hiding a lizard in your hair?" He asked in disbelief

"Its my friend his name is Jerome" I corrected.

"Interesting" he murmured more to himself than me before feeling his tail graze my cheek. It was cold and sharp .

"Does it inject Venom?" I found myself blurting out before touching the pointed tip earning a slight hiss from him.

Shit I guess I shouldn't touch it so casually

"Sorry" I murmured before quickly getting up making him do that as well.

Why is he actually so huge ?

"You haven't replied to my question yet" he reminded me before feeling his tail wraps around me to bring me closer and yet again I found myself touching it utterly fascinated.

"Do you have a death wish or just stupid?" He asked seemingly baffled by my shameless actions

"I actually do have one . Can I examine it ? And why is it smooth ?" My fingers traced over it making him automatically release me , his breath deepening , the tip of his ear reddening??

No its probably a trick of the light.

Just who was this woman and what does she want?

When he heard this ruckus earlier Sylus excepted to find some thieves trying foolishly to steal him or hunters sent to end him not a woman who didn't know how to keep her hands to herself and couldn't stop eyeing him like he was the treasure she came looking for.

Everything about her was off putting from those neat glasses to the small lizard hiding in her locks. She just wasn't what he faced usually and it grated at his nerves.

"Your eyes are so pretty" she peered up at him leaning in to take a closer look , the gesture making him take a step back

Is he scared of me? I tilted my head in disbelief

"Who are you?" He asked again

She didn't seem to mean any harm. Well his blood pressure couldn't say the same but that was another problem to deal with.

"Oh I didn't introduce myself you can call me Athena but I am nothing like the wise Goddess" I chuckled "and you?"

She was seriously asking for his name . Didn't she know he could kill her in an instant ?

Yet he found himself responding anyway

"Sylus"

"Sylus? Its oddly fitting" I murmured before sauntering towards him to take a closer look at his appearance under his watchful gaze.

"You still haven't told why are you here human"

"To learn" I replied eyes flickering up at him

"To learn?" He repeated voice tinged with disbelief.

Who the hell in their right mind would come in a dragon's lair to learn?

"About you , the dragonic specie" I precised before taking out my notebook to jot down thoughts and observations.

Strange he couldn't help but thought. Wasn't she aware of how dangerous he was?

"So you live here?" I asked walking deeper in the crypt towards the mountain of cold Coins and treasure before sitting down and laying on it.

.

Sylus just watch her from afar and a distant part of him almost found her cute

No way she might be an hunter in disguise trying to charm him to get him to lower his guard-

"How the hell you manage to sleep there?" She exclaimed before letting out a wince .

"Guess it's not fit for your graceful body" he commented before walking over his clawed hands pulling her up on her feet

He touched me . Great graciousness he touched me.

"Your hands are so big" I remarked

They could easily snap my neck in two.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" He asked voice almost teasing

"More like an observation" I retorted reaching out to touch it

Why is she so intent on touching him?

But even as his mind protested he let her touch him this time. Her touch was tender almost reverent as if she was afraid of breaking him while he was the one who could easily crush her.

"Aren't you going to run away ? Try to escape ?" He asked crimson gaze fixed on her face gauging her reactions

She couldn't possibly stay here with him and learn right?

"Why would I try to escape? I came here for a purpose" I asked eyebrow knitting up in confusion before looking up at him.

He scoffed red eyes narrowing at her before stepping closer.

"You're just a mere human with no defense . Aren't you scared I'll eat you or burn you alive?" He murmured lips dangerously close to her ear.

"Burn ??? Wait how do you spit fire Exactly? Do you just combust dioxygene or is there a gland involved"

Here she was again with those damn questions.

He groaned the sound making me instantly shut up.

Maybe I should slow down on the questioning if want to learn something before he make a meal out of me.

Sylus was glad she finally closed those pretty lips shut before he went insane.

"If you are determined to stay here , then stay out of my sight" he grumbled before walking away

Why the sudden switch up ? And how the fuck I am going to learn about him if "I stay out of his sight"

I was tempted to follow him and pester him more with questions but decided against it expanding my lifespan to one more day.

--------------------------------

A/N: this is an idea I got from Sylus's myth and i am gonna make it a series i hope you will like it . And I am sorry if Sylus is a bit OOC and also english isn't my first language

Tags : @jinwoosbabyboo @chibichibi-mia @loveanddeepthroat @poisonf0rest @plutotheplum @lalunanymph-main @chaos-in-deepspace @zaynessnowflake

[kyxmlii]

PAIRINGS: Kalim Al-Asim x gn!reader / Jamil Viper x gn!reader

SUMMARY: A failed morning robbery, leads to your twin sister coming up with an idea.

WORDCOUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: none (please tell me if I missed any)

NOTES: first fanfic! feedback appreciated, but please be kind!

series masterlist | next part

The sun casts a glare on your face as you look up at it, a sigh leaves you before turning away and hopping off of the barrel and pushing the cloth hanging from your shoulders over your face and hair. You make your way to the busy market, weaving through the groups of people as you adjust the bag you're holding.

The fruits and vegetables lying on the cloth in front of you look good—too good for you to afford. You make yourself look busy by looking at the price tags hanging in front of the baskets containing the food.

Before quickly turning around, putting your fingers to your mouth, and letting out a high-pitched whistle. Not even a second later, a short black-haired kid walks towards the stall you are standing at, looking at the apples before yanking the cloth the basket was lying on, making it, along with the apples in it, fall to the ground.

The man running the stall, who had his eyes on you with suspicion, turned to the kid startled before a second later started scolding him and helping the kid pick up the apples. As they do, you grab a couple of the other fruits, putting them in the bag, not wasting a second before turning around and trying to walk away, before a yell stops you.

"Hey, kid. Whad'ya take?" You turn around for a moment, meeting the man's eyes before turning on your heel and running away through the market. You don't pay attention to the man's yells as you try to outrun him while simultaneously keeping the cloth on your face and holding onto the bag.

You don't make it far as you turn to look back, trying to see how much distance you've made before bumping into someone, making you drop the bag and all the food inside while you and the stranger fall to the ground. A curse leaves your lips as you look at the stranger. He has short white hair, red eyes, and gold earrings. He's rich, and he's pretty.

His eyes are mesmerising, like the rubies you've seen on rich ladies' rings. You both stare at each other for a moment, before a yell interrupts.

"HALT THIEF, SOMEONE STOP EM!" You turn to look at the man running towards you before you turn back to the stranger, who looks at you with a curious expression and his mouth open as if he were about to start talking. You don't give him a chance before you've made up your mind; you grab a single peach off of the ground as you stand up before running away from the both of them.

not at all paying any attention to the long black-haired male standing there, looking at you, with eyes narrowed.

It didn't take you long to lose the man after you left the marketplace and entered the more rundown place of Silk City.

You knew these streets like the back of your hand, so it wasn't hard to find a good hiding spot. You take the cloth off of your face and hair before wiping the sweat away from your forehead. Stretching your arms above your head, trying to keep yourself from getting cramps.

"So what's the haul?" You turn to look at the kid from before as a smile overtakes your face; you lift your hand to ruffle his already messy hair as he lets out a sound in protest. "Not a lot, bumped into this rich-looking guy making me drop everything."

"No way, you're joking! He should've moved out of the way!" He pouted up at you childishly, making you let out a laugh. "Got you this, though!" You say, pulling out the peach from your pocket before throwing it to him with a wink. He looks down at it for a moment before an uncertain look takes over his face. "What about you and the rest?"

For the second time that day, a sigh escapes you. You think for a moment before crouching down to his height, looking at him with a sad smile. "Aras, you should have to worry about those things, okay? All I need you to do is keep smiling while me and Mira get you and Aria food on your plates."

He looks at the peach in his hands before sneaking one more glance at you; as you give him an encouraging nod, he smiles before taking a bite out of the fruit.

You let out a laugh as you turn around, walking away. "Let's go home, Aras."

You hold your hand in front of your face, trying to keep the warm sun away from your eyes as you smile at the old lady who lives in the ruins of a building you're palking past with Aras, making your way home. This was the poorer side of Silk City. Most people don't visit due to the vibe the place gives off, but it's not that bad if you love here. Most people here look out for each other, we have too. No one else will.

The main street wasn't big; it was paved with uneven stone tiles. The buildings had cracks and holes in them, overgrown with plants. You walked towards the main open village square. Normally, you'd nornally see armed people standing against the broken-down buildings, ready to take everything you have within a minute's notice if you're not from here.

But it's rather empty today, probably at the Zahab market trying to steal some food for their family, like you and Aras failed earlier this morning. You smiled at the guy who lived next door to you as you pulled away the purple cloth from the doorway to make your way inside.

Your little brother smiled and waved as he ran over to his makeshift playroom (a piece of wood leaning against the corner of the wall with a long blue cloth over it for privacy). You give Aria a quick hug as she looks up at you smiling from playing with the worn-out wooden dolls she had gotten from the nice old lady you saw earlier for her birthday.

You push aside another piece of worn-out fabric and come face to face with your twin sister. She pushes her black hair out of her face as she grins at you before looking at your hip with confusion. A sigh leaves you as you walk closer to her. "Bumped into some guy and dropped everything."

She laughs as she turns around, grabbing the last apple you had from off of the counter, throwing it to you a second later, as you catch it with no effort at all. "Hey, at least you tried!"

Her enthusiastic tone didn't match how you were feeling at all. "It's the first time in months that I failed, all because I and that rich guy couldn't look where we were going!"

You take a seat at the counter, looking down at Mira, throwing your arms in the air dramatically as you finish the sentence. A pout overtakes your face before aggressively taking a bite out of the apple, hoping to quell your anger.

"You know, I talked with Elias this morning!" She giggled, twirling around, making her skirt flare up. "Mhm, the next-door neighbour guy?" You sent her a knowing look, raising your eyebrows up and down. "Oh, shut it!" She yelled in response, a smile on her face.

You hop off the counter as you Finnish your apple, throwing the core in the basket in the corner before turning to face your twin, waiting for her to continue talking. "Apparently, the eldest child of the Al-Asim family came home from school today for summer vacation!" You raise your eyebrows in confusion before she continues.

"Elias overheard someone say they were having a welcome home party! You know what that means!" She grins before taking your hand, leading you to the last room in the house, the shared bedroom you four sleep in. "I pulled some strings, and... got you this!"

On top of the mattress that lay on the floor was an outfit. It had a cropped red top with gold embroidery and sheer, white sleeves. Loose, high-waisted red pants that stop mid-thigh, tied with a sash that was adorned with golden tassels, and a chunky gold choker tied to the top.

"It's fake gold, of course! But I think you could still pass off as a rich person!" She grinned at you while dragging you closer to the outfit. "You want me to pass off as a rich person and break in?"

"Yup, and find the treasury room, or steal anything valuable you see!" You frown as you look at the outfit for a moment before turning back to her. "I don't know about this, Mira.." A sigh leaves her lips as she walks forward, grabbing your hands in hers.

"What if I get caught? What if I mess up again?" Her face softens, and she pulls you closer. "I know you won’t. You’re smart, strong, and fast. The only reason you failed today was because of that rich guy."

As if she still senses your hesitation, she brings you into a quick hug. "I know you don't like stealing, but they don't care about us; they're just rich bastards that have everything!" She pulls back and lets frustration take over her face. "They hoard their wealth and leave us to starve. If they had the chance, they’d probably wipe us all out.”

You look at the outfit, the fake gold catching your eye, as you frown. She's right, they don’t care about you and your family. So why should you care about them? You turn back towards her as determination takes over your face. "Yeah, you're right. I'll go."

TAGLIST ▹ (0/50)

To be added contact me through: comments on this post, messages, asks (non-anon)

© 2024 • KYXMLII - do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 22

Notes: No one ever guessed who it was outside the house correctly, and I am so proud of that.

Summary: An unexpected visitor arrives.

UC Series Masterpost!

Link to my AO3!

Start:

The room is silent and tense, Sonic’s defensive stance shifting from Rouge to the kitchen window. Shadow’s ears are twitching as he tries to listen for any noise from outside, Rouge’s hand slowly sliding from his mouth as she takes a small step away from him to tiptoe towards the door. Pressing her back to it, she listens with her large bat ears for anything outside as well.

Rustling.

Shadow hears it too.

Sonic doesn’t seem to pick up on it, but he recognizes the worried glance Rouge and Shadow exchange.

Someone’s definitely out there.

“Who is it??” Sonic whispers to Rouge, Rouge looking at him with a shrug.

“How am I suppose to know??”

“Could it be GUN??” Shadow whispers in turn, Rouge immediately hissing back, “If it is, we all need to shut up because they’re probably listening.”

The room is silent again.

Sonic slowly slides his way closer to Shadow to place a firm hand on his shoulder as if to silently tell him to stay put. Out of sight.

Then he’s crouching down and sliding towards the kitchen window, peeking up just enough to see outside. There’s a coated figure at the living room window peering inside. Mobian. Not human. Still could be working for GUN..

“They’re coming to the door..,” Sonic whispers loud enough for Rouge to hear, Shadow now moving to stand with Rouge in front of the door. The two of them each preparing for a potential ambush if they try to break in..

“Be ready,” Rouge says, “And whatever you do, don’t let them get you. Run. Blue and I will be fine..”

Sonic nods in agreement as he approaches the two as well, purposely moving to stand in front of Shadow so that he’s protectively behind both him and the bat.

All eyes glare at the door, ready for banging to begin or gunshots to ring out..

Instead, they’re shocked by an entirely unexpected sound.

“Sonic???”

Knocking.

Sonic blinks wide, body immediately tensing and then loosening all at once with relief. Rouge lets out a heavy sigh, tension visibly melting from her shoulders. Shadow himself seems thrown off by the familiar voice, and then immediately comforted.

“Sonic? Are you up??? Are you even home???”

Sonic moves past Rouge, reaching for the doorknob to unlock it before opening it with a wide grin.

“Amy!” 

The pink hedgehog is standing with her coat wrapped around her and her hood over her ears, immediately grinning fondly at her hero, “You are home!”

And then she’s in his arms, pouncing at him as she squeezes him so tight he can hardly breathe. He chuckles and hugs her right back, kicking the door shut behind her as he gently rests a hand on top of her head and the other on the small of her back.

“What’re you doin’ here?!” he asks bewildered, obviously very ecstatic to see the girl.

“Rouge texted me wanting to know where you were!” she explains, finally pulling back from the hug enough to look up at him, “And she never needs to talk to you unless there’s some sort of emergency or something. So I figured I needed to come back and make sure everything was okay—“

She then notices Rouge and Shadow both standing behind Sonic, smiling at her warmly and seeming a bit uptight.

She blinks. Then gives a slow, awkward smile, “Looks like I was right about something being up.”

Especially if both Rouge and Shadow are here at Sonic and Tails’ place.

Shadow moves forward now, his smile widening a bit as he approaches her, “It’s— really good to see you, Amy.”

Amy’s brows furrow at this, “‘Amy’???” she eyes him suspiciously, “Not ‘Rose’?? Okay— what’s going on?? And why are you and Rouge here so late???”

Sonic chuckles at this, Shadow looking a bit confused by her reaction.

“It’s a long story, Ames,” the hero says with a sigh, moving to step away from her to give them all some space to properly communicate with one another.

“Shadow had been on a GUN operation,” Rouge explains, “He got caught in a bind and used Chaos Control with a fake chaos emerald. Somehow, he was swapped with another dimension’s Shadow in the process.”

Amy’s eyes widen a bit, looking at Shadow up and down before back to Rouge, “…Go on..”

“I noticed he was acting different when he woke up, and he only wanted to talk to Sonic. That’s why I needed his location,” the bat explains with a smirk, “And here we are. Trying to figure out a way to get him back to his own world..”

“And our Shadow..,” Amy asks after a moment of processing, “..He’ll come back too, right?? He’ll be okay??”

“In theory, yes,” Shadow answers with a small nod, pleased to finally find one of his friends who doesn’t seem completely turned off of the fact he cares about them. This Amy seems to also care about her Shadow. He wonders if they have a good friendship in this world, too..

Surely.. she had been the one to snap him out of his vengeful state and remind him of Maria’s true wish, after all. No matter who found him after the ARK battle, that didn’t change. Amy was still important to him. A highlight in his memory, a spark in his darkness. What turned him around and woke him up.

She was, in so many ways, like a sister to him.. 

Like Maria..

“Good,” Amy breathes, a slight smile on her lips as she looks at the new Shadow. She seems hesitant for a moment before she takes a step closer to him, “So you know me in your world, then??”

“Of course!” he smirks, hands twitching to reach out and hug her like the protective friend he is.. he refrains. She’s not his Amy. Just as this Sonic is not his. “We met the same way in this world.”

“Except after the ARK battle, I found him,” Sonic interjects.

“Not me,” Rouge adds, a small smirk on her lips as she leans against the nearby wall with her arms crossed, “Apparently I’m the root difference in why our Shadow is a grump and this one isn’t.”

Shadow chuckles a bit awkwardly at that, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at the bat, “I wouldn’t say that. That feels like a massive understatement.”

Rouge shrugs, “Only explanation I’ve really heard so far.”

Amy moves to Rouge then, “Oh Rouge- I’m sure there’s different reasons as to why each Shadow ended up the way they did. Whether or not he’s a grump, our Shadow certainly is happier and more at ease with you than anyone else I know.“

“Yeah, Rouge,” Sonic adds with a smirk, “You have our Shadow a chance at friendship. Who knows! You may be the only reason he hasn’t gone on to dominate the world at this point!”

Rouge snorts a bit at this, waving them off with a sheepish smile, “Alright, okay. I get it. I ain’t torn up over it. Let’s move on.”

Amy giggles at this and looks back to Shadow, “How long have you been here then?? Just a few days??”

“Nearly two awake,” Shadow answers with a small nod, “Apparently I was unconscious for a while, though.“

“His chaos energy was through the roof for a bit,” Rouge continues, “Makes you wonder if it was still- for lack of better terms- transferring this Shadow to this world, and that’s why he couldn’t wake up.”

“Like a computer transferring a file??” Sonic questions with a little head tilt.

“Yeah, something like that,” she nods before yawning, her ears flattening on her head as she does, “Anyway. Glad you’re here and all, Pinky, but I’m beat. And we’ve got a long day ahead of us. You guys can catch up, but I’m gonna get some shut eye.”

“Absolutely, Rouge, don’t let me keep you up!” Amy calls as the bat begins her way back up the stairs, “Goodnight!”

Rouge simply offers a wave over her shoulder in response before disappearing down the hall.

“It was really cool of you to pause your trip to come back and check on things, Ames,” Sonic offers after a moment, Amy turning to offer him a sweet smile.

“Of course! You’d do the same for me- you’ve done the same for me.” Sonic rubs the back of his neck with a small shrug, “Yeah, well.. Still.”

“So tell me about your world,” Amy beams, spinning on her heels to face Shadow now with an eager look, “I wanna know everything! How different is it??? Did you and I get tickets to the Eras Tour?? Do you know everyone there that we know here-” she gasps, pausing as her eyes get big, “Am I married???”

Shadow blinks at that, an amused chuckle leaving him immediately as he shakes his head, “No, no you.. You’re the same age in my world you are here, so.. Bit young for marriage.”

“Oh..,” Amy pouts a bit before immediately returning to smiling, “Well, I still wanna know everything!”

“Uh-Ames?” Sonic interrupts with a chuckle in his voice, “It’s… pretty late. And like Rouge said, we’re all kinda tired and need to be ready for whatever happens next..”

“Oh. Right. Sorry,” she smiles sheepishly, “I’ve just been away so long, and I missed everyone! And to come back to a whole new Shadow?? That’s pretty exciting– bittersweet, but exciting.”

“I get it,” Sonic assures with a wink, “It’s a lot to take in. We’re all still kinda processing it, too. But you’re more than welcome to stay here tonight if you want?? I can take the couch, and you can take my room. We’ll all catch up more in the morning?”

Amy nods at this, giving her hero a grateful look as she sighs, “Thanks, Sonic..” Sonic just smiles in return, once again moving to hug her tight and muttering against the top of her head, “It really is.. so cool having you back home, Ames.”

Amy just smiles against his chest, hugging him back just as tight, “Miss me that much, Sonic T. Hedgehog??”

“Sure did,” Sonic admits without argument, pulling back to let her go and look at her properly again.

Shadow watches the entire interaction with a bittersweet smile on his face. It’s nice seeing the two friends reunite, but it’s also painful how oblivious everyone else seems to how much their absence has affected Sonic..

“I missed you too,” the pink hedgehog assures softly, a pause before adding, “Well, I won’t keep you two up,” yawning herself now that her adrenaline has settled again, “I’ll see you both in the morning.” Her gaze shifts to Shadow again as she points at him, “And I wanna know everything.”

He smirks and nods, “Of course.” She just smiles back and offers a wave as she begins her ascent up the stairs, “Night, boys.” “Night, Ames!” “Goodnight, Amy.”

They’re alone again.

Sonic and Shadow exchange a small glance before looking away shyly, recalling the moment they had had before being interrupted by Amy’s arrival. Sonic rubs the bottom of his nose with a small smile before stretching his arms high above his head and forcing a yawn, “Well, I’m beat, Shads. So I’ll be hitting the hay, I think–” “On the couch?” Shadow questions with a quirk of his brow. “Uh.. yeah, or in the shop or a tree or somethin’,” he shrugs, “I ain’t picky.” “No,” Shadow shakes his head, “That’s silly. This is your home. We’re guests. I can sleep on the couch. I don’t need as much rest as you, anyway.” “Oh, don’t Ultimate Lifeform me into making you sleep on the couch,” Sonic huffs with a roll of his eyes, “You’re the one who was out cold for what– a week??” “That’s a bit dramatic-” “You’re taking the bed, Shads. End of story.” “We could share??” Silence.

Sonic stares at Shadow with surprised eyes and slightly parted lips, his cheeks growing a bit more pink by the minute, and Shadow suddenly feels stupid for even offering.

“I-.. I just meant- it would be more convenient, and we’d both get good rest–”

“Sure.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Okay..”

[vanishingmoments]

ive reached the point in battlebots where riptide debuts lord fucking help me

[classyrbf]

prisoner!geto who gets sent to the infirmary after getting into a fist fight with another prisoner. His knuckles and lip are bruised and busted and he’s doing the walk of shame down the jail hall. But he doesn’t expect a pretty young woman to be running the infirmary, nearly drooling at the sight because it’s been almost 3 whole years since he last laid his eyes upon one. He’s eyeing you up and down look a piece of meat while you tend to his wounds, completely ignoring his advances because it’s unprofessional. Though, you do find him quite handsome with tattoos all over his arms, a muscular build and his long silky black hair, his smile adding the cherry on top.

“You new here? I’ve never seen you around before.” He watches you put some gloves on, grabbing a roll of small bandages. “Pretty brave of you to be working in all male prison, don’t you think?”

“You must end up in here quite a lot if you know everyone who works here,” you sigh, grabbing his hand and wiping down the dried blood from his knuckles. “I transferred from another prison. It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

He smirks, narrowing his eyes at you. “Oh, yeah? Must be used to all the flirting then.”

“Wow! How could you tell?” You say sarcastically and toss the dirty wipe into the trash beside you. You wrap his hand up with the bandage and toss your gloves into the trash. “You’re all set.”

“Did I mention my head is killing me?” He winced.

“If you’re trying to get pain killers prescribed to you, it’s a whole different process. So I suggest you stop lying and wasting both of our time.” You place your hands on your hips, staring at him.

“Fine.” He stands to his feet, tall stature shadowing over you. You step back a little the more he steps closer to you. “I’ll cut to the chase. I haven’t properly fucked someone in nearly three years, and I’m dying…dying to get a feel of your sweet, sweet pussy.” He backs you into a corner, neck craning down as he whispers in your ear. “Think you can help me with that, doctor?”

You blink at him, your throat feels dry and your heart is pounding against your ribcage. “That is very, very unprofessional.” No matter what words come out your mouth, your body is feeling the complete opposite. “I’ll call the guards right now—”

“C’mon, pretty please?” The corner of his lips tweak slightly. “I know you want to. I seen it on your pretty face since the moment I walked in.” He raises his bandaged hand and runs his thumb over your plump bottom lip.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sternly say. Oh, but he does. He’s reading you like a book right now and that smug look on his face knows it all.

“Okay,” he chuckles, stepping away from you. “Just know I’ll see you around.” He turns to walk out the infirmary and let the guard know he’s all set, but he suddenly turns back around. His eyes look at the name tag pinned to your shirt. “Such a beautiful name.” He teases. “Bye, doctor.”

[arminsumi]

Ahhh, student!Satoru, who's leaning into the palm of his hand, mouth concealed behind his pale hand, eyes stuck on you. And they've been stuck on you ever since he saw you first walk up the steps into Jujutsu Tech. Bright blue. Heart quivering. Fixed gaze.

He takes any excuse to be near you, even though he knows that you're annoyed by him — he's so cocky and full of himself. But don't you see that he's also just a lovesick boy? Look at the way he follows after you down the halls, long striding legs effortlessly meeting your quick pace.

You're just trying to get a cold soda from the vending machine after a long two hours of practicing martial arts with Satoru, Suguru and Shoko. And since Shoko promptly left with Suguru for a cigarette break, that left an overjoyed Satoru alone with you.

"Which flavor do you usually get?" he asks, grasping at any conversation starter he can think of. He just wants to talk to you, even if it's about something so dumb... even if it's while stood next to a vending machine.

"Uh, strawberry... it's my favorite."

He takes a mental note of that.

He's always trying to get your attention, even if he has to become a fool in order to earn a glance from you. Walking away, looking dumb, even his best friend shakes his head at him and tells him that he's way too downbad for a girl that doesn't even like him back.

But Satoru doesn't listen to anyone when they say that you don't like him back. He knows the chemistry is there, as awkward as it may be sometimes. He knows there's something connecting him and you, like an invisible thread.

He still brings you gifts on V-day. He still pesters you in class. He still shares one earbud with you on train rides. He still gets that accelerated heart beat when you so much as graze your hand over his while walking side-by-side.

So eagerly looking at your lips, Satoru pulls out lip balm and makes eye contact with you while applying it. He's always got chapped lips, he knows because someone made exactly 1 comment about it and now he's never forgotten to put a lip balm in his pocket.

"Whatchya starin' at my lips for? You wanna have a taste of strawberry?" he winks, puckering his kissable lips at you.

"Ough..." you cringe at him, "Satoru, it's no wonder you're single."

Okay, he has zero flirting skills. But he earns a smile out of you right then, so even if he's cringe, he's surely doing something right. Are the cogs turning in your head? Do you think he's cute? Do you want to kiss him should he lean into a kiss oh he's leaning into a kiss now aaand he nearly falls flat on his face, because you didn't notice that he was leaning in for a kiss and now he just has to play it off and look like a dumbass once again.

His feelings grow exponentially as the years pass.

You're always catching him staring and he doesn't even feel ashamed.

Though it's been on his mind all the time, it's not until after three years of knowing you that Satoru kisses you.

It happens one day during heavy rainfall. He runs to you with a grin, no umbrella, totally soaked, and like a bright-eyed bunny he bounces at your side.

He's unzipping his uniform jacket, hanging it over the two of you. The proximity has his heart thumping. Before he knows it, he's leaning down to kiss you, right there as the two of you are concealed from the world in your own little bubble — in reality, everyone knows that you two are liplocking under Satoru's jacket. Duh. His shoes click on the ground as he repositions himself, bending his knees and arching down to meet your lips, 'till his spine gets angry at him for falling for a short girl.

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141 (pt. 4)

You thought it was a mistake when someone called in reserving a party of 14 for a birthday. The voice on the other line assures you it is not, and that they'll be arriving at 7pm. You inform everyone.

"Who wid want a birthday in this shithole?"

Johnny gaffaued, spraying down some dishes.

"Probably just a prank call."

Kyle replied, arms wrapped around your waist and head resting on your shoulders. But it wasn't a prank call. The first half of the party arrive and you and Gaz have to scramble to push tables together. It's overwhelming, everyone is talking all at once, demanding things left and right. Gaz swoops in to help deal with one half the table while you the other. The food comes out, leaving you to be able to sit in the back for a few minutes, talking to the guys about nothing. Walking back out, some older man was snapping his fingers at you, waving his arms as if they weren't the only fucking people in the joint.

"Steaks burnt to hell, remake it."

He slides the plate to you, making you catch it before it falls off the side of the table. You apologize profusely and send it back to the kitchen. Price raises an eyebrow,

"Looks fine to me."

He stares at the piece of charcoal on the plate.

"Fucks sake, lemme do it."

Simon grabs his shoulder and cooks another steak. You set it down infront of the old man, watching him take a bite. He throws his fork down,

"Still burnt. How hard is it to cook a fucking steak?"

You look at the plate, meats still pink in the middle. Apologize again and offer to remake it.

"No, don't bother. Jesus."

He stares daggers into you. You wring your hands nervously.

"Actually, everyone's food was shit. None of us should have to pay for this."

Your mouth goes dry. You look over your shoulder to meet eyes with Kyle at the bar. He immediately walks over.

"Everything alright?"

He puts on his nicest customer service voice and that charming smile that can melt anyone. Except this asshole apparently.

"No everything is not alright, this was the worst dining experience I've ever had! Everything came out wrong, and it all tastes like shit!"

Spit flies out from the mans mouth. Kyle stands between you and the customer, trying to diffuse the situation. And much to your horror, one by one, the table starts to leave. You try to say something but they ignore you.

"Go get Johnny."

You run back, trying to act casual in front of Simon and John while tugging Johnny by the sleeve. He looks down, concerned.

He's on the floor before you can finish telling him what happened,

"Ye'r gonnae have tae pay sir."

His tone is more firm than Gaz, arms crossed and looking down at the old man. You're almost in tears as you watch more of the table file out the door, you turn back to look at Gaz. He frowns, furious. There's a heated argument at the table, the old man is yelling now. Not at Kyle or Johnny, but the only person he wasn't afraid of; you. The commotion makes John and Simon step out. This idiot is gonna get himself killed. You can see the moment when the customer loses the fight in his eyes. Shuts right up as soon as Simon says,

"Problem?"

Like a fish out of water, all the old man does is open and close his mouth wordlessly.

"Grab the cheque."

You don't know who Simon said that to but you and Soap crash into each other turning around and walking to the POS system. Ghost gently grabs the bill from your shaky hands and shoves it into the customers chest,

"Cash only."

"I don't have cash."

"There's an ATM around the corner."

The old man nearly jumps out of his seat,

"Right. Be right back."

He rushes to the door, Kyle and John follow.

"Oh there's no need-"

"Making sure you don't get lost."

Kyle smiles, eyes dangerous. It's about five minutes when they're back, the old man placing some 20s down before complaining under his breath. Then he gets kicked out,

"I need my change!"

He looks over Johnny's shoulder, looking to you for help. You shrug, arms crossed. When the door closes you sigh, running fingers through your hair

"You alright, darling?"

Gaz asks, voice as sweet as ever, gentle hand on your face. You nod.

~

That evening was pleasant. More than that really. They pampered you, cooed and soothed you as you huffed and sniffled. Ran you a hot bath,

"Poor thing, dinnae deserve tha."

Johnny massaged shampoo into your hair.

"Won't let you stay around next time we deal with something like that again."

Kyle kneaded the tension out your shoulders. John sat you in his lap, brushing hair out of your face while saying sweet nothings. You really do enjoy milking this for all it's worth, sad eyes looking up and huffing like you didn't get over that bullshit as soon as that old man walked out the door.

"Pampered little princess, you know that?"

Simon's lips are pressed up to your neck, just under your ear. You just nod, his words rattling around your brain while you got fucked senseless. You're tired, but the boys promised to coax an orgasm out of you. From each one of them. Then another. Well, you're a trooper, so what's one more round? Showered with soft kisses and praise, a foolish smile is painted across your face in a pleasurable state of stupor; Gosh, aren't you just spoiled rotten?

**sorry if it's short! I am on holiday ( ╥ω╥ )**

[tojirights]

bro i’m going absolutely INSANE over alastor 😻😻

so, how about when lucifer comes by the hotel, he subtly flirts w alastors girl. alastor is on the verge of going apeshit and almost leaves charlie fatherless.

instead of murdering anyone, he decides to take his frustrations out on his darling, leaving bite marks and hickies on spots just visible enough for lucifer to notice next time he comes by..

a/n: im OBSESSED 😍😍

alastor immediately recognized lucifer as competition on multiple fronts. obviously, the king of hell was a threat in terms of power level, and alastor hated that. but alastor also quickly hated how charming the devil was.

upon meeting you, lucifer takes your hand and bows, placing a kiss on your hand as well. alastor's eye twitches, watching someone else put their dirty little hands and mouth on what is his. "my, what a pleasure. you're helping charlie? that's lovely! means i'll get to be seeing you around more, huh? she didn't mention such a pretty little thing was her hotel manager." lucifer speaks to you, a cool smirk on his face. he's clearly interested in you, and while alastor can't blame the man, he's seething with rage. clearing his throat, alastor takes a step towards you and reaches a hand out to lucifer in an attempt to shift his attention.

"alastor." he speaks, barely containing the anger in his voice. "it truly is an honor to be meeting you, sir." you raise a brow at the tense interaction going on in front of you but pay it no mind. lucifer gives alastor a tight lipped smile and shakes his hand. "ah, you as well. charlie has talked about you." you notice the way alastor glares at lucifer, yet keeps a smile on his face the entire time. lucifer turns back to you, putting a gloved hand on the small of your back. "now how's about a tour, hm?" he leans into your ear to whisper, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

behind you, alastor's horns grow and eyes redden, ready to risk it all in a fight with the devil and take out this whole god damned hotel if it meant lucifer never touched you again. "o-oh um, that's typically done by-" you start, but suddenly, charlie is running down the stairs with a panicked look on her face.

"heeyy dad! let's go this way, towards your room! it's late, you should rest." her smile is clearly fake, and you see her eyes dart from you to alastor and back to you. luckily, alastor reeled in his rage when the princess showed up and was back to his normal self on the surface. you can feel the energy coming from your partner, malicious intent painted all over his aura and you gulp. "al, c'mon... charlie's right."

alastor doesn't speak, but he follows you to your room for the night. the door is barely shut before alastor is lifting your legs and tossing you onto the bed. "care to explain why the fuck that little slimy king of hell was all over you?" he doesn't give you another moment to process before he's tugging your shirt over your head. "it's just harmless, al. you know i don't want anyone but you." you assure him, but alastor's teeth find your neck.

"i may trust you, darling, but i do not trust lucifer." his voice has a low growl to it that ignites your core. "but-" you gasp when alastor's mouth closes on the skin behind your ear, nipping it with sharp teeth. "no, because he and everyone in this place will know who you belong to." you shudder underneath of him, slight tinges of pain shooting down your spine at every nip and pull of your skin. alastor moves down your neck, leaving a trail of angry red and purple spots in his wake.

his tongue circles every bruise in an attempt to soothe your inflamed skin, but the marks just darken by the second. you hands dive into his hair, holding onto the silky strands. you feel alastor's body shudder as you circle the tufts of hair by his ears, making him press his hips to yours. "everyone in hell, my dear, is going to know that you're mine. not a single soul will ever try to touch you again." his breathing hitches, grinding his quickly hardening cock against your leg. you whimper when his teeth latch onto your collarbone, sucking hard and adding another welt to your skin.

"i want him to hear you." he hisses as he tugs your pants down over your ankles. its hasty, the way alastor frees his cock and pushes into your pussy, but you were more than ready for the intrusion. you cry out, suddenly being so, so full and alastor groans. "yes darling, just like that." your legs wrap around his waist, forcing every thrust just a little further until he's pounding at your cervix.

"d-don't stop sir." you gasp, eyes rolling into the back of your head while alastor's mouth latches onto the other side of your neck this time. "who do you being to?" he asks, hot breath fanning your skin. "y-you, alastor!" you whine, flexing your hips up to his in an attempt to build friction. "please, make me cum. only you feel so good." alastor peppers you in soft kisses now, ever grateful that you're willing to entertain the idea of letting lucifer know just who makes you feel like this.

alastor sneaks a hand between your bodies to rub skillful circles around your clit until your legs start shaking. "good, good girl. scream for me." he smirks when your tone shifts and he can tell by how tight you squeeze around his cock. "a-alastor fuck!" your body spasms, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you cum. alastor's orgasm follows shortly after, his teeth finding your skin once more as he spills deep inside of your pussy.

you have a brief moment of embarrassment when you think about just how loud you just were, your hand flying up to your mouth. alastor just laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead. "don't panic, my sweet. i think this little display will prove quite effective in keeping lucifers grubby little hands off of you." alastor pulls out slowly and carries you to a nice warm shower before tucking you in for the night.

---

"jesus christ, did you get into a fuckin' fight with a bear?" angel laughs when you walk into the kitchen the next morning. you were covered in hickeys all the way down your neck, and you were barely walking straight. lucifer refuses to make eye contact with you, especially after alastor walks into the room shortly after. "good morning everyone!" alastor chirps, smirking at lucifer who rolls his eyes and sips his coffee.

"well, there's the bear..." husk mutters, earning a cackle from angel.

[mywritersmind]

THE MOST GORGEOUS - LN4

summary : Lando is convinced he’s found the love of his life during media day, embarrasses himself, and can’t stop flirting!!

listen up : flirty lando! pretend it rained in zandvoort🫨

word count : 616

“Carlos!” I hear the voice before I see him, and he definitely doesn’t see me because as he slides into the room he looks directly at his friend, “Carlos! Did you see that reporter!? Fucking hell, She’s the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen! And I saw her completely rage at-”

He spots me then.

I’m sitting in a corner, watching him talk about me. I have to say, My ego is extraordinarily boosted. His hands slap down to the side of his body, his eyes going wide.

I can’t help but laugh, “Hi.” I say, glancing at Carlos who’s already cracking up.

Lando puts his hand on the bridge of his bandaged nose, clearing his throat, he hesitantly looks back up at me, “Hello.”

“You know, I prayed for something comical to happen today! Thank you so much, mate!” Carlos slaps his friend on the back before making his way out, shaking his head at me, “See you!”

“Um…” Lando swallows, “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t talking about you?” I’m normally not so self centered but I really believe he is talking about me.

“I saw you get escorted into the ‘no press’ area…” He nods, his lips in a thin line, “I was also the only woman in the media pen.”

“Right! Of course.” He leans his arm against a chair, using the other one to motion at me, “Well… Nice job yelling at Vowles.”

I smile and stand, pulling my skirt down a bit, “He deserved it.” I shrug and grab my purse and paddock pads.

“No doubt.” He watches me walk past, “Wait!” I turn and tilt my head, “Would you want to- get coffee?” he looks nervous.

“No… sorry.”

At this, he looks shocked at my blatant refusal, “Uh… That’s alright. Hey! I never got your name.”

I nod, “True.” I walk out and I hear him call after me.

“I’m Lando! By the way!”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Great race today, Lando.” I say into the microphone as the man stands in front of me. He’s sweaty and holding onto his water for dear life.

I’ve never seen his eyes so blue. Not that I’ve seen much of him in person… I’m new to the interviewer game, made my way up slowly, “Easy to do well when I know you’re watching.”

He just won Max’s home race and apparently winner Lando is a very flirty being. I raise a brow, “How will you be celebrating tonight? Big party?”

He runs his hand over his mouth, “Nah… looking to hang out with someone special.” Is he… asking me out? Now!?

I clear my throat, trying to stay professional, “Sounds Lovely.”

“Hopefully it will be! If she says yes.” He’s looking directly into my eyes, my cheeks feeling hot.

“Mmm who would say no to Lando Norris?”

He licks his lips, “I know one person.” I shake myself out of it, remembering the camera facing him and the mic in my hand.

“So! I’m assuming you're pleased with tyre management today? Pretty wet track, Is that harder or more fun?”

His mouth pulls into a slow smirk and I know i’m doomed, “Prefer it wet after a few boring races.” He shrugs and I roll my eyes because I know what he’ll say next, “Quite slick today but nothing i’m not used to.”

His media manager taps his shoulder, letting us know time is up, “Have a good day celebrating, Norris.”

“Appreciate it, Y/n.” He winks and turns around. I sigh and turn the other way, praying my cheeks will cool down.

He knows my name.

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.

Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?

Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.

"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"

It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.

Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.

"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."

"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"

Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.

"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"

Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.

KORTAC

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."

"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."

"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."

The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.

"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."

Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.

"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"

A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.

"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."

Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.

"Wait!"

"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."

Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.

You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.

[rafey-baby]

hidden

outlaw!rafe holding pogue!reader hostage in her own house after banging his fist on her door in the middle of a stormy night, demanding to be let in with a gun in hand and wild waves in the sea of his eyes…

18+ mdni!

c/w: outlaw!rafe being mean and manipulative, mentions of murder, violence & other dark themes, he’s also weirdly soft in the end?

wc: 2k

he's been stuck in my head for a while so hope u enjoy xx

part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There’s still sleep dust lingering in her lashes when she hesitantly cracks open the oak door at 3 am— revealing a tall, scary man with scarlet stains on his big hands, white button up saturated in maroon and a scowl painted over his unsettling countenance.  

She stands there like a deer in headlights, unmoving as he stares down at her with arctic eyes as chilling as the frigid waters surrounding an iceberg.  

At first, she thinks she’s still asleep, tired brain conjuring up some creepy murderer scenario where she’s the idiot who does everything the audience in the movie theater is screaming at her not to.

But as she properly blinks her sleepy eyes open, she comes to the realization that this is not a horror film and this intimidating stranger (with oddly appealing features) who’s definitely just killed someone is very much real.  

She’s about to open her mouth and she’s not sure whether she was going to scream for help or simply stare at him with her mouth hung open in shock but she doesn’t get the chance to find out before he’s pasting a massive palm over her mouth.  

“Don’t make a sound,” his low mutter makes a shiver run down her spine. 

And she doesn’t, instead she just blinks, too out of it to even move a muscle; the reek of the dried blood on his hand hitting her nose, making her face scrunch up. And she doesn’t know why she’s not putting up any sort of a fight, blaming it on the fact that half of her brain is still swimming in the lake of her dreamland; soaking up the glittering sunbeams that never dull and dipping its toes in the grass that consists of misty nebula and twinkling stars. 

And he’s just so mean, ordering her around with a gun to her head, manhandling her around to his liking, grumbling about needing to stay at her house for a bit since he needs a hiding place from the cops after dumping a body somewhere in the ocean and getting caught. Apparently, his temper really just got the best of him at times.  

“I didn’t even mean to kill the guy, alright. He just kept pissing me off on purpose and I was provoked, what was I supposed to do?” He offers as an explanation that seems to do very little to soothe her overstrung heart that’s thudding in her ribcage. It’s loud enough for him to hear; almost as if she’s a terrified rabbit and he’s a big bad wolf, hunting down his prey.  

“I’m taking a shower now, and you’re not gonna move an inch, you understand? Cause if you do, I’m gonna have to hurt you, and I really don’t wanna do that, okay?” 

She nods her head, unable to form any coherent sentences. 

He takes note of the way her inhale gets caught in her throat when he steps closer to her, inquiring whether she lives alone or not, to which she just nods her head again.  

“Dumb girl”, he tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “When someone’s knocking on your door in the middle of the night you don’t fucking open, alright?”  

She’s making it entirely too easy for him.  

The second he’s in her bathroom, she forces her exhausted brain to think; quickly coming up with a rickety plan as she listens to the water streaming down from behind the door. She waits for a moment, making sure the coast is clear before she bolts towards her bedroom, trembling fingers grabbing her phone from her nightstand and trying to dial 911.  

However, her shaky hands don’t help her one bit when they drop the phone; the clattering sound of it hitting the floor echoing in the quietness of the room.  

She can’t breathe, her brain short-circuits as she bends down, reaching for the wretched device that has somehow tumbled under her bed. However, when she finally catches it in an unsteady grip, she hears the shower turn off; an eerie stillness following. In her state of panic, she fruitlessly tries to turn it back on and call for help but it’s proving to be harder than she thought when her lungs decide to stop working, her respiration shallow and her heartbeat ringing in her ears.  

“Boo,” a low whisper right behind her makes her blood run cold; a shiver traveling down her spine as she slightly jumps, a faint gasp leaving her.  

“Why did you just do that, huh? Told you, didn’t wanna fucking hurt you and then you go and pull this shit,” a strong hand is gripping her by her throat as he turns her around to face him.  

“I’m sorry, I...I don’t—” she’s paralyzed, unable to move.  

“You don’t what, huh?” He stares into her horror-stricken eyes with an almost bored look, seemingly entirely indifferent to her torment.  

“Can’t…can’t breathe,” her voice is nearly inaudible, making a grim chuckle bubble out of his chest.  

“Can’t breathe? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before, yeah?” He scoffs, cruel words mocking her.  

“You’re so fucking stupid, want me to kill you, is that what you want?” He grits out as he squeezes at her neck, making her feel dizzy; gasping for air.  

“No! No, please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Won’t— won’t do it again, promise, I’ll do anything—” she manages to force out as he’s nearly crushing her windpipe in his unrelenting grip.  

“Anything, huh? That’s real tempting and all but what I need you to do is not pull stupid shit like this, you understand?”  

“I won’t, I promise. You can...stay here for as long as you want and I’ll help, okay?” she thinks she’s gonna pass out soon, stars peppering behind her fluttering lids and her weakened limbs starting to feel heavy. His coarse panting fills her eardrums as he seems to contemplate her offer for a moment.  

“If you even think about running to the cops tonight, I’m gonna fucking find you, you understand?” 

She’s frantically nodding her head and at last, his hold begins to loosen around her trachea, allowing for her greedy lungs to finally suck in air as she takes a step back, trying to even out her respiration.  

He doesn’t say anything, silently observing her as she clears her throat, swallowing a few times as she tries to pacify her racing heart and calm the thoughts running around her head; trying to reassure herself that she’s still alive and she will stay that way if she just doesn’t rile him up anymore.  

He notices how her rounded eyes look up at him as he stands before her, smelling like her honey-scented body wash and orange blossom shampoo, nothing but a towel hanging low on his hips, leaving very little to her imagination as the room grows quiet.  

“What’s— um…what’s your name?” Her voice is creaky when she tries a different approach once she feels the flat floorboards under her wobbly feet again, a nervous hesitation overlaying her precarious question.  

“Don’t worry about it,” he simply dismisses her, but a small pout molds her mouth as she stares at him and he lets out a discontented sigh, rolling his eyes.  

“Rafe,” he finally responds, not bothering to ask for hers, seemingly not caring enough for it. She tells him, nonetheless and he laughs at her priorities. A literal criminal has broken into her home and she cares about fucking introductions.  

“So…have you— have you killed anyone else?” She doesn’t know why she’s trying to make small talk with him but she supposes if she gets him to talk about something, choking her to death won’t be at the forefront of his mind anymore.  

“You seriously wanna know?” He raises his brows. 

She thinks about it for a moment and then settles on shaking her head, followed by a harsh chuckle rumbling out from his sturdy chest.  

“So, uh— what is it that you do? Like besides…killing people and stuff?” She tries once more.  

“Look, the less you know, the better, alright?” He simply states, making her let out a soft sigh in defeat.  

All of a sudden, a vigorous thunder crackles behind her windows, an ablaze lightning illuminating her dimly lit bedroom soon after.  

She flinches at the sound and the sinister way it momentarily lights up his face.  

“You scared of a little storm?” He feigns concern as he peers down at her.  

“N— no,” she lies, forcing her face to stay neutral, hesitant about him finding out her weaknesses.  

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe, yeah?” The mocking grin on his face causes a shudder to travel through her as she swallows, wishing this was all just a nightmare she could wake up from.  

- - - - - - - - - - - - 

After that little incident, he thinks that she’s just as sweet as sugar, offering to make him tea and asking if he wants a blanket or an extra pillow so he’d be more comfortable sleeping on the couch.  

He can tell that she’s merely doing it because she’s terrified of him, which she should be. Nonetheless, he thinks it feels nice to be pampered, doted on; to have a pretty girl following his orders like a trained puppy. Makes him figure he's gonna enjoy his stay just fine.  

The following morning though, he’s woken up by her shaky figure standing next to his own tired form, pointing his gun at him.  

His softened bones feel mellow from the sleep and he lets out a sigh, rubbing at his sleepy eyes and shifts to sit on the couch cushions; teasingly lifting his hands up in surrender. 

“Puppy’s got a gun, huh? Trying to be all tough now, are we?” There’s a lazy smile on his face.  

“I— I want you to…leave,” she says, voice rickety and words unsure.  

And he’s trying to take her serious, he really is, but it’s proving to be a little difficult since she resembles a scared little kitten more than someone who knows what they’re doing.  

“You want me to leave? Maybe you should work on your pitch, I’m not very convinced, you know?” The exasperating smirk plastered on his face makes her brows crease.  

“Rafe, this is not a joke,” a scowl shades her face and he thinks she looks rather adorable.  

“Come on, Puppy. You’re not gonna shoot me. You don’t even know how to use that thing, do you?” His voice is even; she hesitates. 

“Well, it can’t be that…complicated?” It’s more of a question than a statement and he really can’t keep the chuckle from bubbling out of his throat. Her frown deepens.  

“Why don’t you give it to me, yeah? You don’t want death on your conscience. Would break you, you’re too soft for that shit.”  

“You don’t— know me.” 

“I know you enough,” he says, finally standing on his feet. He takes a slow step towards her and she squeezes the gun tighter in her trembling fingers.  

“If I give it to you, you’re gonna— you’re gonna…kill me. I don’t wanna die,” her words are hysterical, rushed.  

“Now who said anything about killing you? Look, if you give me the gun right now, I’m not gonna do anything. I give you my word, alright?” He’s towering over her, solid chest nearly grazing the barrel.  

“I don’t trust you,” her voice is a whisper.  

“I know, Pup. But I also know that you’re not gonna use that,” his steady hands are a contrast to her own precarious ones when he grabs for the firearm, slipping it from her weak fingers with ease.  

“There we go, no need to be so fucking theatrical, yeah?” He lowers his head in order to lock his eyes with her frenzied ones.  

“See? Not hurting you, am I?”  

She manages out a hum of agreement and then her waterline is brimming with water, salty droplets trickling down her cheeks as she chokes out a sob. “I’m sorry. I don’t—”  

“Hey, hey it’s all good. Mistakes happen, yeah?” He says and then his strong arms are wrapping around her trembling form because he’s not a complete monster and for some reason that makes her weep harder.  

Her crocodile tears wet his shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind, big paw rubbing against her back. And it’s almost…comforting, she thinks as he starts to sway her from side to side, like he’s trying to calm down a crying child.  

“There you go, just let it all out and maybe you can chill out a bit, yeah? You Pogues can be so fucking dramatic sometimes,” he pats at her back, rolling his eyes as she takes in shaky inhale after shaky inhale until she’s feeling slightly more placid.  

“Shit, if I’d known you were such a crybaby I would’ve picked another house,” he grumbles, pulling away from her weakened form, pushing her back to stumble on her feet; setting the gun back on the coffee table with a clank. 

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run

Pt 3

At some point, Soap and Gaz fall asleep on the couch, sprawled across one another. Ghost is laid back in one of the recliners, struggling to keep his eyes open as Price’s voice lulls him to sleep from the kitchen.

You're not sure how long the two of you have sat here. It took Price an hour to finally open his mouth. He has hardly met your eye since he’s started talking, hands clasped together on top of the table.

The ache you felt in your chest for these men worsened the longer Price spoke. Proud military men, tired of seeing the monsters they hunted get slaps on the wrist for atrocious crimes. Making plea deals with lawyers, getting one way tickets into luxury cells when they should be six feet underground.

You don’t realise Price has stopped talking till Soap snores, causing Dixon to shuffle at your feet, all four dogs scattered around the kitchen floor. You look him over, taking in the man now that all his bravado has been drained, leaving only the raw human underneath. Blue eyes darkened by years on the force and then years behind bars, forced into proximity with the very animals he and his team longed to put down. You’re looking at a man who fought for what was right and when justice wasn’t served in a way he deemed fit, he settled it.

Price is staring down at his hands, and you’re worried he’s going to hurt himself with how vigorously he rubs his hands together. You don’t think, reaching across the table and grasping one of his hands in yours, running your thumb across scarred knuckles. “Don’t do that.” You scold, and his head whips up to stare at you, eyes wide, hopeful but hesitant.

He looks down at your hand holding his, then back at you. “You’re not…?” He trails off, clearing his throat as he sits up straighter, letting your palm slip into his. You’re not sure what word he was going to use, but you shake your head.

“I’m… I’m sorry you all had to…” You don’t finish your sentence, letting it hang in the air between you. You’re shocked to see tears pool at the corner of his eyes but he’s quick to blink them away.

“You’re not horrified by us?” He asks, and you can tell he’s trying to fight his voice from shaking. You clear your throat, but gently squeeze his hand when his grip loosens.

“You have done… horrible things. Inhumane things.” You start, trying to pick your words carefully as you scoot your chair closer to his. He watches you warily, but there is no denying the growing hope in those eyes. “But I couldn’t imagine seeing what you saw everyday. Hearing the things you’ve heard, having to keep that all to yourself. Seeing… monsters you’ve spent years tracking get served the minimum sentence with a cozy cell waiting for them.” His hand starts to shake, and your heart breaks seeing how hard he’s fighting back the tears pooling in his eyes. “We never would have actually hurt you, I swear on my life. We just… Fuck we had been running for fucking hours through those god damn trees and-“ His voice cracks, and you gently run your thumb over the back of his hand. “Why are you being so nice?” He almost spits the word, but his grip on your hand tightens.

Grounding.

“You did as I asked. You told me the truth.” You mirror his words from the barn, and he barks out a wet sounding laugh before covering his face with his free hand. “And you’re happy with that truth?”

“I’m happy you decided you could trust me enough with it.” You admit softly, and he stares into your eyes, and you don’t feel the need to look away this time. “Anyone else would have gone running for the hills.” He whispers, and you can’t help but smile.

“Not many places to run to, and if I’m telling the honest truth, there are worse things than killing human filth.” You shrug, and he lets out a bewildered laugh. “You can’t mean-“

“I do though. There are people in this world that don’t deserve the freedom they have, that have ripped apart the lives of others and continue living like they didn’t single-handedly ruin someone’s entire foundation.” Your words are a little more forceful than you intended, raw. And Price catches it, sitting up a little straighter, tugging your hand closer.

“You have your own monster, don’t you pretty?” He asks seriously, and you swallow, lowering your gaze to your clasped hands.

“I think that’s a story for another night.” You whisper, and you see him nod, before realization hits, and his eyes widen.

“You’re going to let us-“

“You are going to have to show me that I am not making a mistake by letting four wanted men stay in my house.” You interrupt him, but there’s a smile on your face. The next seconds are a blur and you suddenly find this giant of a man at your feet, kneeling in front of you and holding both your hands in his. His shoulders are shaking, head bent but you hear the hitch in his breath.

“Price..” You murmur, a little nervous but you slip your hands free, slowly running your fingers through his hair, and you hear the sob that leaves him. He bunches up the loose fabric of your sweats in his fist, and you can feel his tears starting to soak through.

“You are a good person.” He chokes out, looking up at you and the look on his face has tears of your own threatening to spill. He looks exhausted, like every ounce of his energy has finally been drained, years of enduring visceral human indecency ingrained into every part of his being. And yet he is gazing at you like you are the first glimpse of the sun after week long rainstorms, constant flooding and devastation, the light breaking through the clouds to spread warmth on a new day.

“You’re still a good person too.”

Those words linger in the air.

You lose track of time as you sit there, running your fingers through his hair, this man who you’ve never met, who invited himself into your home, but has bared the darkest corners of his soul to you all in one night. Grimes had made his way over at some point, staring at Price with a concerned tilt of his head. He never did like when you cried, and you can tell he’s desperate to try and comfort this strange man in his home. He lays besides him, paws outstretched, inching forward ever so slowly.

“He doesn’t like that you’re upset.” You mumble, watching the way his eyes snap over to Grimes. “Even though I terribly upset his mama earlier?” He mutters, he and Grimes staring at one another.

“Grimes has always been a big softy. Dixon is the one who’s gonna hold a grudge.” An answering ‘boof’ comes from beside you, Dixon plopping his head back on his paws after making his stance known.

Grimes scoots forward until he can rest his big head on Price’s lap, nuzzling down and looking up at him expectantly, and Price gives you a hesitant look. You just nod, smiling gently. “You’re gonna be staying with four of them, better get yourselves acquainted.”

“What in the bloody fuck did I miss?” A drowsy voice mutters from the doorway, and Ghost stands there, taking in the sight of Price kneeling before you, still clutching your sweatpants, and you can see the downturn of his lips through his mask when he notices the dried tears on Price’s cheek.

You gently pull Price’s hands off your sweats, and he looks as though you just took away his favorite treat. “I’ll go grab some fresh blankets.” You hum, face warming when you can feel both of their gazes on your back as you walk up the stairs.

“Wait, does that mean-“ You hear Ghost start, and you’re shocked to hear it so soft, but their words are lost as you turn down the hallway. You slip into the bedroom at the end of the hall, making quick work of dusting off the dresser and small TV, gently stacking a pile of clean sheets and towels. This room already had two beds, you just hoped they were big enough for these giant oafs.

You just about scream when a pair of hands grip your waist, and you whirl around. “Price you have got to stop grabbing me now- Oh.”

It was Ghost, eyes unreadable as he stares you down, and you clear your throat, loosening your grasp just a bit but still attempting to push him off.

“You scared me, you need to stop-“

“Thank you.” He interrupts, and your eyes widen as he pulls you closer.

“I- Well you’re welcome, I couldn’t just-“

“Yes you could. You could send out right back outside, hell you could get a goddamn brigade of officers here and you would be justified for it.” He shrugs, but you frown, shaking your head.

“No. From… from what Price told me, you all made your own choices to help those the governments deem lesser than them. You helped people who have watched law officials let them down again and again.” You state firmly, wincing slightly as you feel Ghost dig his fingers into your hips. “Easy.” You scold, and he immediately eases up, but doesn’t let go of you, keeping you pressed to him and your heart skips.

“I’ll just finish-“

“Whoever divorces such a sweet little bird must have absolute shit for brains.” Ghost states, quite confidently, and you can’t stop the shocked giggle that slips past. “Absolute fuckin idiot.”

“You can’t win me over with flattery you know.” You huff, but he sees right through you, dark eyes taking in your flustered expression, and you feel heat burn your cheeks as you avoid meeting his eye.

“Mmm, we’ll see about that. Think it’ll get me pretty damn far.” He grins, and you smack his hands before pausing.

“Wait.” You mutter, prying his right hand off of you and lifting it up, inspecting.

Your teeth made a pretty gnarly imprint, already scabbing. “Ah don’t worry about that. I deserved it.”

“C’mon you big idiot, before you let that thing get infected.” You order, pushing him towards the bathroom and he lets out a loud laugh, the sound causing butterflies to seize your stomach.

“Yes ma’am.”

[pucksandpower]

Free Fucking Country

Max Verstappen x First Daughter of the US!Reader

Summary: the FIA needs a reality check — you’ve known this since they decided to punish your grown ass boyfriend for daring to say “fucked” in a press conference — and what better way to do this than by taking full advantage of your First Amendment rights … live on camera?

The Texas sun beats down on the circuit. You’re standing off to the side, watching the race from a monitor, arms crossed. There’s an edge to your stance, a tightness in your jaw that no one’s missed, least of all Nico Rosberg.

“You look like you’re going to murder someone,” Nico says, chuckling under his breath. “Who’s the unlucky victim?”

You shoot him a sideways glance, not quite smiling. “Not someone. More like the entire FIA.”

Jenson Button raises a brow from his spot beside Nico. He’s been fiddling with a microphone, but now his full attention is on you. “Ah. Still upset about Singapore, then?”

You roll your eyes. “Still upset? I’m livid, Jenson. They punished Max for swearing. Swearing. Like, are we adults or are we running a kindergarten here?”

Nico and Jenson exchange a look, trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

“They’ve done worse to other drivers, to be fair,” Nico says, playing the diplomat despite the thirst for drama you know is itching to escape.

“I don’t care!” Your voice rises a little, and you realize you’re pacing now, hands flying around in frustration. “They target Max like he’s public enemy number one, and I swear it’s just because he’s honest. They can’t handle it when someone actually tells the truth!”

Nico nods, clearly amused by your rant but trying to stay neutral. “True. Max does have a ... blunt way of putting things.”

“He shouldn’t have to censor himself. It’s not like he was even that bad. They act like he threatened to burn down the paddock.” You huff, coming to a stop in front of Nico. “It’s just so stupid.”

Nico leans back, crossing his arms. “So, what are you going to do? You’re not exactly on the FIA’s Christmas card list either.”

A slow grin spreads across your face, and Nico’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh no. I don’t like that look. That’s trouble.”

Jenson smirks. “What’s she planning?”

“I need a favor,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief. You glance over at the camera setup behind them. “Can I borrow your camera for a minute?”

Both men stare at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“You want to go live? On Sky Sports?” Jenson asks, blinking in disbelief.

You shrug. “Why not?”

Nico shakes his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re something else.”

But he steps aside, making way for you to take his place. “Alright, have at it. Just … maybe don’t get us all banned from the paddock, yeah?”

You wink. “No promises.”

Without missing a beat, you step in front of the camera, and within seconds, you’re live. Your pulse quickens, adrenaline buzzing in your veins. The weight of the moment hits you, but it only fuels your determination.

You clear your throat. “Hi, everyone! It’s me, your friendly neighborhood First Daughter, coming to you live from the US Grand Prix. Now, before we get back to the race, I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Nico and Jenson are barely holding back their laughter behind you, but you ignore them, fixing your gaze on the lens.

“Max Verstappen got punished for swearing during a press conference last week. Punished. For swearing. And you know what? That’s bullshit.”

The words fly out of your mouth, sharp and unfiltered. There’s a moment of stunned silence around you as people start to realize what’s happening.

You keep going, voice rising with every sentence. “The FIA is out of control. They’re so focused on micromanaging everything that they’ve forgotten what this sport is supposed to be about. Racing. Competition. Passion.”

Nico’s eyes widen as he leans toward Jenson. “Oh my God, she’s really doing it.”

Jenson just grins, watching in awe. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

You don’t let up. “You want to punish someone for being honest? For being real? Then punish me too, because I’m about to say a hell of a lot more.”

You can see people gathering around, eyes glued to the monitors. You’ve got their attention now, and you’re not backing down.

“The FIA is so far up their own asses, they can’t see what’s really going on. Drivers are out there risking their lives, pushing the limits, and all they care about is how polite they are in a press conference? Are you fucking kidding me?”

You wave your hands around, the frustration boiling over. “I’m sick of this shitty double standard. Max gets penalized for cursing, but the countless times that the FIA has done something much worse? Silence. It’s ridiculous.”

By now, there’s a crowd forming around you. You see a few FIA officials watching from the corner, looking like they’re trying to figure out what to do. You don’t stop.

“If the FIA wants to keep policing language, they should start by looking at themselves. They’re a bunch of fucking hypocrites who don’t know the first thing about what it takes to be a real racer. They’re killing the spirit of the sport.”

Just then, you spot one of the stewards marching toward you, followed by two security guards. You flash a grin at the camera. “Oh look, here they come. The fun police.”

The steward, a stern-looking man with a clipboard, stops right in front of you. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately.”

You laugh, leaning into the camera, making sure everyone’s still watching. “Really? You’re gonna kick me out for talking? Last time I checked, this is a free fucking country. First Amendment, bitches! Try to shut me up, I dare you.”

The steward’s face reddens. “You need to leave, now.

But before the security guards can even move, your Secret Service detail materializes out of nowhere, surrounding you. They stand tall, arms crossed, ready to intervene.

You laugh again, this time louder. “Oh, you didn’t think about that, did you? You can’t kick me out. What are you gonna do, arrest the President’s daughter on live TV?”

The steward looks like he’s about to explode, but there’s nothing he can do. He steps back, clearly out of his depth, while the camera continues rolling.

You take a deep breath, calming down just enough to finish your rant with a flourish. “So, FIA, if you’re watching — and I know you are — get your act together. Start treating the drivers like adults, and stop with the petty bullshit. Or I swear, I’ll make it my mission to drag you on the broadcast every single fucking race.”

Before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you. You turn just in time to see Max walking up, eyes wide, clearly catching on to what’s happening. He looks from you to the cameras, then back to you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Without a word, he steps forward, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s sudden, unexpected, but it’s the kind of kiss that makes time stop, the kind that speaks louder than words.

When he pulls away, there’s a smirk playing on his lips. “You always know how to make a scene.”

You shrug, a mischievous grin on your face. “Someone’s gotta stand up for you.”

Max laughs, shaking his head. “Well, you sure did.”

Nico and Jenson are clapping from behind, both of them thoroughly entertained. Jenson leans into the camera, grinning from ear to ear. “Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N, everybody.”

You step back, still grinning, feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The steward looks like he’s given up entirely, and the crowd is buzzing with energy.

Max leans in close, his voice low. “You know you’re going to get a lot of hate for this, right?”

You shrug, glancing up at him. “Let them try. I’m not scared of a little backlash.”

He shakes his head, eyes shining with admiration. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I’m just getting started.”

[sturniqlo]

Motherly Instincts- M.S

summary: mom!y/n has trouble putting the baby back to sleep, dad!matt sees that's she's getting overwhelmed and near the edge of breaking down. BLURB

cw: slight cursing, ANGST; crying, being overwhelmed, postpartum depression, FLUFF; soft kisses, reassurance, comforting

an: i tried my best to not use a name for the baby but i kept getting confused when i used the baby and y/n in a sentence so i chose a random name | lowercase intended | a continuation(?) to spilled water

masterlist | mia masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"got the baby back to sleep?" matt asked and opened his arms back up for y/n to crawl into him. "mhm." she hums, and snugs herself into his arms. he wraps his arm around her shoulder and she leans her head on his chest. y/n's eyes keep going back and forth between the movie playing on the television in front of them and the baby monitor that sits on the coffee table.

"hey, she's okay, i promise you. i'm sure she's fast asleep by now." he whispers and places a kiss on her forehead. "i know, but what if her swaddles comes undone. or what if it's too tight?" she bites the inside of her cheek, worrying.

matt frowns slightly, for the past couple of weeks, y/n hasn't really been herself. she's more quiet, she gets irritated quickly, she only interacts with the baby when it's necessary "i just- she's so fragile, you know?" is her excuse.

in reality, everything is right. y/n has been trying so hard to create a bond with her baby girl. she's tried so hard but, there's something inside of her- almost like a voice- telling her that she isn't fit to be a mother, that her baby doesn't like her. she sees how matt and his brothers have a bond with her own baby, who she grew for nine months. it gets to her.

y/n always has to excuse herself and cry in the bathroom when she sees her baby crack a smile with someone who isn't her, or when mia isn't fussy when someone is carrying her. there has been multiple occasions where mia doesn't let y/n carry her and she squirms in her arms but, when she's given to matt, she isn't fussy anymore. it breaks y/n's heart.

2:36am

the clock on y/ns nightstand reads. the speakers of the baby monitor begin to fill the room with the wails of baby mia. she mutes the monitor so matt won't wake up. swinging her legs over the bed, she puts her slippers on and walks to the door to leave the room. entering the nursery, the cries only get louder. she goes to the crib and sees that her pacifier had fallen next to her small head.

"hi, baby. mommy's here." she whispers, she carefully picks her up in her arms and grabs the pacifier and tries to put it back in her mouth. mia takes it and y/n sighs in relief. she cradles her for a couple more seconds until she sees the babys face churn in discomfort, the pacifier coming out of her mouth and hitting the floor, cries fill the room again.

"oh no, let's get this cleaned up." she tries to stay calm and squats down to pick up the pacifier. before she heads down she places mia down on the changing table and undos the swaddle. "do you need a diaper change, is that it?" her shaky hands unclip the onesie and starts to take off the diaper.

cleaning her up and changing her into a new diaper, her cries don't stop. y/n feels a lump start to form in her throat and she blinks her tears away. "are you hungry, baby? let's get you a bottle." she puts her back in her arms and grabs the pacifier so she can clean it while she's downstairs.

y/n runs one of her frozen breast milk pouches under warm water and proceeds to pour it into a bottle once it's warm and melted, however with a crying baby in her left arm, and a shaky right hand, the bottle falls on its side and the pouch of milk slips from her grip. "shit." she curses and a tear slips down her face. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry." she tells the crying baby in her arm. grabbing a different frozen pouch she manages to pour all of it into the small bottle.

putting the nipple of the bottle into the babys mouth, she refuses and her cries get louder. y/n tries not more time and mia takes it for a couple of seconds and repeats what she previously did with the pacifier. y/n places the bottle down next to the spilled milk and cleans the pacifier before heading back up into the nursery.

she moves side to side patting the baby lightly on the bottom, trying to soothe her to sleep. "i- i don't know what you want." she whispers, looking down at the baby's blue eyes that resembles matt's so much. however, these pair of eyes are sad and leaking tears.

in their shared room, matt flips over and tries to put an arm around y/n. he feels the spot empty and cold, waking up and sitting up he begins to come conscious of his surroundings and hears the cries of his baby. his bare feet meet the cold wooden floor and he heads out the room into the nursery where he sees y/n wiping tears from her eyes and hears the wails of the baby.

"babe, what's going on?" his raspy voice says. y/n looks up and sees matt standing there. "she's- i don't- she won't stop crying, i don't know what she wants. i've- i've tried everything, she won't stop, matt." his heart aches at her quivering voice. "it's okay, let me have her." matt walks closer to his two girls and y/n hands mia to him.

once the baby is in matt's arms, her cries stop. this makes y/n's eyes well up even more. "hey, why don't you go to our room, i'll be there in a sec, okay?" he grabs her jaw and kisses her forehead. "o- okay." she nods. as bad as it sounds, matt wished that she hadn't stopped crying right away in his arms. he saw the way y/n's eyes welled up again. he wished it would've taken him some time to get the baby to calm down.

y/n remembers of the mess downstairs and heads down to the kitchen. wiping both the milk and her tears, she hears matt coming down the stairs and she turns around. "hey, is she- is she asleep?" she says, trying her best to smile. "yeah, here, i'll clean this up." matt grabs the napkins from her and he cleans it up. "is it okay if i go back up?" y/n asks.

"of course, i'll be right up." matt turns around and nods at her. matt waits a couple of minutes before going back upstairs so y/n can have a moment to herself.

"you okay?" matt says as he closes the third bedroom door. y/n places the baby monitor back down on her nightstand after unmuting it and turns around to matt's voice. "am i a good mom?" she blurts out and sits on the edge of the bed. "what? of course you are. you're the best. why do you ask?" he goes to sit next to her. "i feel like i'm not. i mean, mia doesn't even like me. she doesn't let me hold her whenever i just want to. i cant even put her to sleep when she wakes up. i- you put her straight to sleep by just carrying her, i can't do that." she cries into matt.

"y/n, baby, you're the best mom ever." matt says and she shakes her head. "matt, you're not listening to me, i can't- i'm- i'm not good enough. i don't have motherly instincts. i'm- i'm the worst."

matt shakes his head and gently grabs her face in his hands. "baby, believe me when i say this. you are the best mommy for mia. did you change her diaper just now?" he asks and she nods. "did you make her a bottle?" she nods. "did you give her, her pacifier?" she nods again. "did you go to her when you heard her crying?" she nods. "see, you do have motherly instincts, my love. nobody told you what to do, you just did it." he smiles at her. "please, believe me, babe."

"and, it's okay if we can't figure it out right away. we're first time parents, of course it's going to be hard. we're learning." her cries have now turned into sniffles. matt wipes away the last of her tears and kisses her nose, making her giggle lightly.

"feelin' better?" matt murmurs against her hair. they had moved from sitting on the edge of the bed to matt cuddling her, kissing her hair from time to time. "much better. thank you, babe. i- i think i have postpartum depression." she whispers the last part. "oh." he says. "i want to get help, i don't want to feel like this anymore. i want to enjoy these moment with her. she's not going to be this little for so long." she looks up at him.

"you get all the help you need. i'll be with you every step of the way, alright? me and mia will be right next to you." she smiles at his words and he presses a soft kiss to his lips. "thank you." there's a beat of silence until matt speaks. "please don't ever say that she won't be this little for so long. one moment she needs us to change her diaper and next thing you know, i'm walking her down the aisle." y/n gasps. "okay, let's not go that far. she's not even two months old yet."

"you're right."

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect.