#smooth jazz music playing in the background

[idontcarecarebear]

Let me say if I were manhandled like this, I would have folded immediately

And not for the right reasons

[currently-becoming-potatoes]

List of words for the computer:

LONG POST- more under the cut

STANFORD- Pulls up a file on Stanford Pines, written by an unknown scientist. It discusses his extra finger and praises his intelligence, as well as calling him the “next evolution in the human species”.

BILL CIPHER- Takes you to the Wikipedia page for the Eye of Providence. Also took me to a Sesame Street video about a Jazzy Triangle and a Square. Not sure what prompted the change.

STANLEY PINES: Takes you to a list of EBay listings for brass knuckles.

FIDDLEFORD: Takes you to the music video for Cotton Eye Joe by Rednex.

SHERMIE: Nothing. I sure do wish we got some lore about Grandpa Pines.

GRAVITY FALLS: The text on the computer reads “never heard of it” and the red light on the bottom turns green.

ALEX HIRSCH: Leads to Google Images for “flannel”. Huh.

WEIRDMAGEDDON: Pulls up an article from the Gravity Falls Gossiper about how nothing happened at all and there was no apocalypse.

DISNEY: Screen reads “rat.gif censored for your protection”

SOOS: Leads to a page of writing from Soos himself, referencing many things (including Tad Strange being gay and madly in love with Woodpecker Guy. Love wins!!!)

DIPPER: Leads to a creepy yellow parchment with a message from Bill Cipher himself trying to trick Dipper into blinding himself by staring at the sun for 13 hours straight! Silly! (Also if you keep clicking on it, the page gets darker and blurrier until it implies we've gone blind)

MABEL: Causes stickers to appear on every available surface. Clicking it enough times leads to message “lab now fully Mabelized”.

WENDY: Leads to a note from Wendy that mentions a way to ward off evil triangles written in the bottom corner of the book.

GIDEON: Makes a web recording of Gideon scatting play. It ends with “I love you forever Mabel”. Please shut the fuck up you little creep.

TAD STRANGE: Plays a video of bread with smooth jazz in the background.

TOBY DETERMINED: Leads to a Google search for a restraining order. Holyyyyy shittttttt

WHO ARE YOU: “I could ask you the same question”

SEASON 3: “Season Two”. I guess that’s that lol

This was about all I could find. Please reblog with anything else you can discover! Thank you, fellow Gravity Falls enjoyers!

And make sure to give some love to all the wonderful folks down in the comments! Many of these answers and tips come from what they've found. I can't list everyone, unfortunately- I didn't expect this post to get popular- but, to everyone who's helped out, THANK YOU.

FURTHER EDITS:

BLIND EYE: Pulls up an optometrist’s eye exam. Each line reads “WKHBOOVHH”. Too lazy to translate atm.

PIÑATA: Bill Cipher getting beaten to death /hj

MASON: A note from Dipper listing several anagrams of Gravity Falls characters’ names. You can check in the comments for the answers.

AXOLOTL: “You ask alotl questions”. Thanks for the pun, Alex, but I’m kind of losing my mind rn

MYSTERY SHACK: Leads to a Google search for Confusion Hill, the real-life Mystery Shack!

MYSTERY: “?”

MONSTER: Leads to several YouTube videos for “There’s a Monster at the End of this Book.”

VALLIS CINERIS: Leads to an analog-horror-esque video of Baby Bill and his parents, who have been blotted out by static, and a voice repeating “WHY DID YOU DO IT” over and over again until you stop the video.

PORTAL: “Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build a new one.”

GIFFANY: You need to put it in multiple times. Several warnings about breaching firewall, followed by a message from GIFFANY saying “SOOS! I still love you!” or smth like that, and then GIFFANY herself briefly appearing onscreen. Trying again after that summons her more. Also lets you download some ZIP files.

DORITO: Summons an image of a spinning Dorito, followed by the most cursed image of Bill Cipher I have ever seen.

GOD: A short video of an axolotl in a tank with a Bill Cipher statue plays. This is Alex’s axolotl, shown in the Book of Bill countdown.

REALITY: “Is an illusion”

FILBRICK: “I’m not impressed”

CARYN: “I knew you were gonna write that”

GLASS SHARD BEACH: Leads to an image of the New Jersey Hell Hole.

ANY CUSS WORD: Pulls up a paper reading “NOT S&P APPROVED. WASH YOUR MOUTH OUT WITH SOAP” with an image of soap below.

MATPAT: Leads to a video of MatPat next to a conspiracy board, holding the Book of Bill. He tells us we’re on our own.

BABBA: Plays an audio recording of Dipper singing BABBA. Not Disco Girl, a different song.

CRAZ: Leads to the Jem and the Holograms theme.

XYLER: See above.

AD ASTRA PER ASPERA: Shows us two new journal pages from Ford and Mabel, studying the Cipher statue. They’re definitely worth the read, I teared up looking at them.

ANSWER: “Question”

QUESTION: “Answer”

SEASON ONE: “Season -1: Antigravity Falls”

SEASON TWO: “Season 1” …maybe scratch what I said about Season 3. Or don’t. Things are starting to damage my brain.

CURSED (got from @slimslamflimflam decoding the candle! Thanks!): Shows two pages talking about the dangers of drawing triangles, with the bottom of the second page showing several drawings of Bill and the words “HE IS COMING, RUN”

THE UNIVERSE: “Hologram”

RIZZ: “Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas.” This response is repeated if you type in SKIBIDI or FORTNITE.

BABY: Shows an ultrasound of a fetus Bill Cipher, captioned “Look at what’s growing inside you! See you in nine months, papa!”

JOURNAL 3: “The Journal for Me”

PACIFICA: Leads to a note from Pacifica calling Bill Cipher “ick” and telling us to follow her on social media under “Platinum Paz”

PLATINUM PAZ: Pulls up an image of Northwest Manor with the llama symbol overlaid and a “NW” logo beneath. There's also a short story beneath!

LOVE: Leads to an audiobook of “The Love Triangle”. Need to read later.

BLENDIN: “The time agent lost and presumed incompetent”. Uh…?

SCARY: Leads to another audiobook of a cheesy Goosebumps-esque horror novel written by Bill himself, apparently.

DIVORCE: Shows you the logo of the bar Bill went to after his fight with Ford… Billford bitter exes confirmed

ROBBIE: Leads to the cringiest messages ever. He’s such a failure I love him

CONSPIRACY: Leads to a video of a man losing his mind over the countdown counting up. I feel so seen. (I have been informed that his name is Charlie Day, he's an actor from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia and that one meme, he had a quote on the back of the Book of Bill, thanks to everyone who explained that to me, I'm sorry, I'm uncultured)

RAT: “Thurburt’s number?”

BLANCHIN: Leads to a YouTube video on how to blanch vegetables.

TJ ECKLEBURG: “Never mention that name again.”

NOTHING: “Something”

SOMETHING: “Nothing”

BURNSIDE: “Burned inside.” Well… at least we know what happened…

WADDLES: Leads to the pig placement network!

THERAPRISM: Pulls up a sign from the theraprism regarding an emergency situation. The code reads "THE OLD ONE".

SHAPE: Pulls up an article on Plato, triangles, and Ancient Greece. This article is presumably written by Bill.

LLIB and BILL: THIS leads to the Sesame Street video every time.

WEIRD: Shows a video of a frightened Weird Al panicking about being trapped in a computer. Sorry, man...

CLONE: Pulls up an image of Paper Jam Dipper, a warning about not getting him too close to liquids, and an option to print.

TRIANGLE: ")" or "Tri harder."

THEYLLSEE: "Is seeing believing?"

DEER TEETH: "For you, kid!"

LIFE: "Life: 72% complete. Now loading: death."

DEATH: "Life's goth cousin."

PINES: "A good family tree."

OWL TROWEL: A slab of hieroglyphs, translating to an ancient ad for an owl trowel.

SCALENE: "Life form not found." EUCLID has the same outcome.

WELL WELL WELL BEING: Some assorted notes from Bill's Theraprism file. These include his greatest love and fear, his art therapy notes, and notes on his phobias. Three clicks is required to read them all.

BOO BERRY: Offers a poem on the meaning of life! Wow! I feel so enlightened!

LOVE YA BRO: Shows us a doodle from Stan of one of his and Ford's Sea Grunks adventures, and another code on the back. It translates to "Kings of New Jersey." I've been told it lets you download the code as a font.

SORRY: Reveals the repaired Backupsmore photo, with a note from Fiddleford about his and Ford's growing friendship. Fiddauthor fans, we are eating well tonight!

HORROR: Pulls up an image and report on The Always Garden, which is essentially a cheap Italian restaurant hidden in the backrooms.

HOLOGRAM: "Universe."

NAITSUAF: Pulls up a page that looks like it would be from the Book of Bill, in which Bill tries to convince us to sell us his soul. Clicking "ARE YOU READY?" pulls up a contract where we can sell our soul to Bill (with an alarming amount of coded fine print. Will need to translate later). You can print this document out, back out, or sign it right there on the web. Hitting "SIGN" causes the words "PLEASURE DOING BUSINESS WITH YOU!" to appear, and the document to close. In other words, I no longer have a soul.

IMSTILLONYOURMIND: Plays a recording of the ocean, with Stan faintly talking in the background. Poor Ford ain't quite over the divorce yet...

HOTXOLOTL: Pulls up a "MOST WANTED" doc on the henchmaniacs.

SEVENEYES: Pulls up a faded polaroid of The Oracle with text on the back that reads "LEAVE HIM. Escape to dimension *blurred out*. It's against the rules but it's the only reality where you'll be safe from him." The code at the bottom (once again decoded by the powerhouse that is @slimslamflimflam) reads "Set a course for Dimension: R34LITY." Is another Cipher Hunt in the makes? Only time will tell, hehehe.

JUST FIT IN: Plays an old commercial with a few moments of speech in the glitches at the end.

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES: Shows a transcript from a therapy session at the Theraprism. Bill discusses his relationship with Ford and cuts off the session when someone brings up his parents.

NOT A PHASE: Shows a Google search for "black hair dye stained an entire bathroom."

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN: Instantly downloads a page of fleshy pink paper with the word "ENJOY" written on it!

SHAVE YOUR GRANDMA: Pulls up a few more pages about the human life cycle.

LIES: Pulls up an image of "The Game of Lies" board game, with a long stretch of text from (I assume) Bill, ending with "LIE UNTIL YOU ARE NOT LYING ANYMORE." Someone has some issues...

SAY BAAAA: Pulls up a neat little rhyme about being Bill Cipher's obedient flock of sheep. The code at the end translates to "Black Sheep."

ONE EYED KING: Plays a video of a hypnotist's spiral, with Bill proclaiming "YOU WANT TO PLEDGE YOUR SOUL TO BILL CIPHER" in the background. There is also morse code that translates to "NAITSUAF", leading to a previous discovery- the soul contract.

TANTRUM: Pulls up a transcript of a spat between Bill and Time Baby.

TITANS BLOOD: "HOOT HOOT! Password please!"

CURSE WITTEBANE: Pulls up an image of a Bill Cipher ouija board.

FORDTRAMARINE: Pulls up several rejected files from Ford trying to convince us Fordtramarine exists.

SUCK IT MERLIN: Pulls up a tapestry of Bill riding a unicorn. The code at the top reads "DAY MARE VS NIGHTMARE."

HEY NERD: Plays a commercial advertising things such as a Bill Cipher calendar, the Scrubba-Bill, a severed hand, and the entire Cygnus-XIII galaxy. Half of the image can be found in the Book of Bill.

DESTRUCTION IS THE FORM OF CREATION: Pulls up a frantic page of notes from post-portal-shit Fiddleford. A sticky note at the bottom has a code that reads "Unreality."

RUBBERHOSE: Plays "The World is Small Ever After for All."

IRREGULAR: Shows us Bill's mugshot in color. The code below reads "No prison or attention span can hold him."

UNREALITY: Offers a guide by Bill on how to become immortal.

GUN: "Oh yes oh yes oh yes they both."

ABUELITA: Leads to a video on vacuuming the walls.

YES: "What's McGucket's favorite soda?"

NO: "Your loss..."

REPEATEDLY CLICKING STAN: This stuff deserves a section of its own, away from the OG Stan stuff. It takes you through several Ebay listings on various Stan-ish items until you get to a page written by Bill about Stan's secret shames. "Ex-wives" further confirms our theory on Stan and Eda's relationship, as well as revealing many other bits of lore. "Fears" is somewhat goofy to be honest. "Secret Shames" reveals that Stan is a fanfiction writer and that his mother is the only member of his family who truly loves him outside of Ford and the kids. "Unreported Crimes" is somewhat goofy as well. "Failed Products" basically confirms that Stan is that world's Alex. "Lowest Moments" is genuinely depressing, and "Darkest Thought". Well. I'm not spoiling it lol. And the bit on "How He Beat Me" causes Bill to get more and more frantic/angry the more you click it! Comedy GOLD!

DIPPY FRESH: Leads to a Reddit post of the Burger King Kids Club.

MEOW: Leads to a TikTok of a man playing the Gravity Falls theme on that cap keyboard.

HELP ME: Pulls up another video of Alex's axolotl and the tiny statue. Rip Bill ig :/

R34LITY: Pulls up several photos of the henchmaniacs in live-action, captioned "They found a new home."

JOURNAL 1: "The journal of fun."

JOURNAL 2: "The journal for you."

FBI: "Your webcam is on. We are watching."

BURNED INSIDE: Shows an image of a charred Oregon Parks badge and nametag on the ground.

HECTORING: Plays a silly little country song!

OROBOROUS: Pulls up two journal pages about Fiddleford buying Ford an axolotl to keep him company, and Bill subsequently telling Ford to get rid of him. There's also some code on the first page that reads "CHONKY BOY." Ford, you wonderful dork.

[f14fun]

pixelated love (!simmer x mv1) - chapter 1

synopsis: in which the famous three time world champion max verstappen wants to learn how to play the sims 4. except, he doesn't really know how to. so what does he do, search up a youtube tutorial. low-and-behold, y/n's video is the first he watches.

smau ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ next | series index ˚୨୧⋆｡

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yourusername:

liked by user1, user2 and 18,102 others

yourusername: the infamous sims 4 tutorial is official out on yt 🔐😈💟 (pls guys u spammed my dms so hard for this one i was SWEATING editing 🙄🙄)

view comments

user1: QUEEEN TYYY FOR THIS VIDEO

user2: me when y/n releases a new video 🫠🫠😵💦💦

yourusername: now... ayo...

yourusername: (in the dms only, we talked about this guys...)

user3: pookie your so hawt hahaha (viscerally sweating)

yourusername: just u, babes xxx

user4: LMFAO in the video where she goes "wow, i didn't know you could make boobs this big in cas (create a sim), huh..."

user5: HOLLERINGGG, she said that?! ☠️☠️

user4: YUPPP. then she preceded to say, "mmm, mommy milkers"

user6: she is not real this is insane 😵😵😭

user4: what makes it even funnier is that there is always some type of smooth jazz playing in the background, so every time she says unhinged shit its accompanied with the most nonchalant whatever music 🫨🫨

user7: literally this is why she is my fav simmer ytber 4 reallz

liked by yourusername

user8: DID YOU GUYS SEE MAX WATCH HER VID ON STREAM LMAO??!

user9: OMG YES I DID IT WAS SO FUNNY

user10: wait pls fill me in max who

user10: is he some gamer?

user8: LMAO not really ☠️

user8: we r talking about max verstappen, he's an f1 racer who occasionally games

user9: tbf he seems to game and sim race more than he actually races 😭😭😭

user10: ahhh ic

user10: wait so then what was he doing watching mother y/n's video 👁️👁️

user8: he was trying to learn how to play the sims 4, so ig he clicked on the first tutorial on yt and it j happened to be her video 😍🫠

user11: omg it's the girl max watched on stream yesterday, she was hella funny im ngl

user12: wait yeah, she's so pretty in this post

user13: GIRL MAX WAS SIMPING OVER U SO BAD YESTERDAY

user14: FR DOWNBAD.

yourusername: max you say... drop his @ 😁😁

user13: @/maxverstappen1

user15: girl you are NAWT ready for the shit u r ab to go thru w the formula one community

yourusername: wait he's a formula one racer???

user15: GIRL PLS GOOGLE HIM I BEG

user15: UR GOING TO LEARN SM AB UR FUTURE HUSBAND

user17: HUSBAND? let's gatekeep our wife, shall we

user18: @/maxverstappen1 @/maxverstappen1 @/maxverstappen1

user19: @/maxverstappen1 i found the woman of ur dreams 😈

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author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 part two will be out sometime within the next week, comment if you want to be added to the taglist! ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[leclerc-hs]

somebody else - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you find yourself at cross ties with an ex! OR charles just really wants you back. warnings: 18+, smut under the cut!, angst!!!!!!!!!, not proofread word count: ~2.2k author's note: sorry if this is lame?? i was feeling really angsty the other night but then never finished it so i finished it just now. maybe I can continue this or maybe I'll leave it as a one-shot only!!! idk but let me know your thoughts :) xoxo ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DARKENED CLOUDS swirl ominously above you, intermittently lit by flashes of distant lightning that paints fleeting patterns across the sky. The air is cool and charged with the scent of saltwater as you pull your knees into your chest. 

“Did you ever think we would end up here?” His voice mutters beside you, the waves crashing with a muted sorrow in the background, as if echoing the ache that burned in his chest.

The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and dampness, a bittersweet reminder of your shared moments now slipping away. You turned your head to look at him, tugging the corners of your lips upwards into a weak smile.

The burn in your throat made it hard to speak.

“Jamais.” Never.

“I thought we had more time,” You spoke, your voice fragile.

-

You sit nestled on the plush couch, your favorite book lying forgotten in your lap as you emerge yourself into the soft melodies playing in the background. Charles stands by the vintage record player, carefully selecting another vinyl, his movements graceful and deliberate in the dim glow of the room.

The music fills the space. A jazz tune, perhaps, with its smooth saxophone and rhythmic piano. He turns to you eventually, with a smile that practically melts your heart, before extending a hand towards you as an invitation to dance.

“Aren’t you concerned for your toes?” You joke, slipping the book off your lap and onto the couch.

“Concerned?” His lips tug into a small smirk. “You can break all of my toes, and I’d still want to dance with you.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing. A shy grin forms as your hand slips perfectly into his, fingers intertwining effortlessly.

Outside, the city hums softly with the quiet buzz of evening life, but within the cocoon of warmth and music, time seems to stand still. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He mutters as he presses gentle kisses onto your face, one arm wrapped around your waist tightly. “Toe breaking and all.”

Your head falls back as you release a laugh of pure joy. “Je t’aime.” I love you.

“Je t’aime, mon coeur.” My heart.

-

The mornings always held a special charm for him, especially those rare occasions when he found himself awake before you. It wasn’t a common occurrence, but when it did happen, he cherished it deeply. As he woke to the gentle light filtering through the curtains, he would often find himself captivated by the sight of you sleeping peacefully beside him, almost always cocooned into the side of his body.

There was always something so mesmerizing about watching you in those quiet moments of slumber. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your hair fell onto the pillow, and the soft expression on your face created a montage of serenity and beauty that he could never look away from.

He sometimes would just lay there, propped up on one elbow, just taking in every detail of you. The way your eyelashes fluttered silently, the slight curve of your lips, and the way you would sometimes reach out unconsciously, seeking his warmth even in sleep. It always filled him with need for you.

Today, for instance, was one of those mornings. Charles traced the pads of his fingertips softly along the collarbone that was peeking out of his t-shirt that you always stole from him. He didn’t mind though; it was practically yours.

You stirred awake gently, a smile pulling on your lips as you felt Charles hand trail down your torso and slipping under the t-shirt, his hands instantly trailing along the skin of your stomach.

His hands squeezed your sides gently, before pushing you flat onto your back, so he could slip in between your thighs, half his body pressed on top of you.

He peppered kisses to your neck, up to your cheeks, before meeting you at your lips where you awoke with a full-blown smile. 

“Needy this morning, hm?” Your voice was soft, still full of sleep as you felt him gently rut against your core. There wasn’t much fabric between you both, just his boxers and a pair of cotton panties.

“For you?” You could feel his grin against the crevice of your neck and collarbone where he places open-mouthed kisses, sucking gently. “Always.”

It didn’t take much longer before his cock was slipped inside of you. His boxers strewn somewhere along the bedroom floor that you both shared, and your panties pushed only to the side.

“Feel this, mon amour?” He groans softly into your ear, his breath warm against your skin as you let your head fall back into the pillows completely. “It’s just for you.”

It starts out slow and lazy. Until you both just can’t take it anymore and he’s flipping you over, pulling you to your knees. 

“Arch your back for me.” He says, the pace of his hips unrelenting as his fingers grip the sides of your hips. “That’s it, mon amour.” 

You can’t help but moan, your knuckles turning white from the harsh grip you claim on the bedsheets. It’s sogood.

His hands find their way to your hair, fisting it tightly as he pulls you up so that your back is pressed to his chest.

“Please,” You beg, in need of a release.

“How bad do you want it?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers trailing along your neck, pressing gently into your soft skin. “C’mon, work for it.”

You begin feverishly rutting your hips, meeting him in the middle. It doesn’t take much longer before your both sent over the edge of your orgasms, collapsing on top of one another in the warm confines of the bed.

“I think we should stay here for the rest of the day.”

-

The tension in the air was palpable, thick with anger that seemed to swirl around the both of you like a storm. You both stood in the middle of the kitchen, a place that usually consists of shared laughter and comfort, now transformed into a battleground.

“How was I supposed to know that she would be there?” His voice was lethal, the veins in his neck protruding from the clench of his jaw.

You were in complete disarray as your fingers continuously ran through the roots of your hair. It’s as if he was listening but wasn’t really listening.

“It’s not about that!” You half-shout back, your voice dwindling towards the end. You were tired. So tired of this. “It’s the fact that you practically forgot I was even there!”

“You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Pick fights over nothing.”

“So now it’s my fault that you practically spent the entire night talking to your ex-girlfriend as if I wasn’t in the room?”

You felt your temper wearing thin. All you needed was an apology. A sign that he didn’t mean to spend half the night talking to his ex-girlfriend.

“I hate when you do this.”

“I’m so done letting you hurt me like this every time we see her around.” You felt your voice crack. 

“So that’s it? You’re just giving up?” His voice was void of any emotion, but the heavy rise and fall of his chest gave way to just how much this was hurting him to hear.

-

“Can you just stay a little longer?” His voice was raw and full of emotion as he stared at you from the archway of the kitchen. You stood only a few feet away with swollen eyes from crying, and a single suitcase by your side.

You could slowly see the unwavering emotions form across Charles’ face as he stood, staring at you. Sadness, hurt, and anger.

You began to shake your head no, but Charles absolutely refused for that to be your response. He took a small step towards you, which had you immediately holding your hand up, begging for him to stop.

“Please,” Your voice shook. “Don’t make this harder.”

“I love you.” He emphasizes. He runs his hands through his hair like he’s in distraught. Because he is. How did it get to this point?

When you couldn’t even say the words back, was Charles’ final undoing. He knew you still did. But he neededto hear you say it. He knew it was selfish. Considering, this was all his doing. His actions.

“You keep hurting me every time we come across her.” You void your sentence of any emotion. Trying your best to hold it together, at least exteriorly. “I can’t be with you when it seems like you want her.”

“I only want you!” He can feel the panic forming in his chest as he sees you make your way to grab the handle of your suitcase.

“It’s too late.” 

-

It’s been seven months since then. Most would say that’s not much, but to Charles it felt like eternity. It would be a lie if you said it didn’t too. But still you moved on. Or at least tried to.

You and Charles regardless of the break-up we’re always still involved in some way. You both knew it was impossible to shut each other out completely. Especially when you both live in the same small city, have the same childhood friends, and live not even a mile away from each other.

So, when you arrive to one of your best friend’s birthday party, hand in hand with another man, you could imagine the burn of nerves that flood your stomach as you spot Charles across the room.

“Mon dieu!” Your friend erupts in a raised voice. “We finally get to meet Andrew!” She pushes the door open widely, allowing room for you and Andrew to step through the threshold.

A short silk dress adorns your body, the perfect shade of blue that embellishes your summer tan. You avoid looking in Charles’ direction as you gather your belongings onto a designated table, where everyone’s belongings also lie. 

You’ve been seeing Andrew for a few weeks, it’s all still relatively new. But he was sweet and caring, and so thoughtful.

You feel your cheeks redden in embarrassment as your friend announces Andrew as ‘your new boyfriend’ because he isn’t your boyfriend. But, you can’t find it in your heart to correct her.

It takes a mere thirty seconds for you to drop your belongings down onto the table, before you turn around to meet the eyes of Charles from across the room. 

It feels as if time has stood still as he sends you a small tug of his lips, unsure of how he should act. It’s not that you haven’t seen each other since the break-up, but he hasn’t ever seen you with another man.

You felt in a complete trance, unable to remove your eyes from Charles, until you feel a hand rest on the small of your back. Andrew.

You break eye contact almost instantly, turning your head to smile up at Andrew. He sends you a quick wink, before bringing his lips down to your ear. “Tu veux un verre?” Do you want a drink?

You nod, a soft smile pulled on your lips as you turn towards the direction of the kitchen, pulling Andrew’s hand in yours.

-

“Is it serious?” His smooth voice elicits a quiet shriek and jump as you hand wash the used wine glasses in the kitchen sink, an eruption of goosebumps forming across your skin.

“Excuse me?” You turn to him. Soapy water dripping from your fingertips before you wiped them with a hand towel nearby. 

“Is it serious?” He repeats, his voice unwavering as he steps closer that you need to crane your neck to look at him.

“I know what you said.” You could feel the anger begin to swirl in you like a storm. “What makes you think you deserve to know?”

For a tiny instant, you swore you saw the smirk on his face waver. But, it was so fast that he pulled it back up again.

“I miss you.” He whispers softly, his hand reaches to touch a strand of fallen hair from your face before he tucks it behind your ear.

“You’re not being fair.”

His face falls to a solemn look, letting only you see the actual hurt that he’s been feeling every day since you walked out that apartment door.

“I want you back, mon amour.” He states. “I’ll risk being unfair if it gives me any chance to get you back.”

Your heart was beating rapidly. It’s everything you’ve wanted to hear. But you can’t do this. Not again. Not to Andrew.

“Charles, please don’t do this. Not here.” 

“I know that you love me.” He states. “I know that you do, and you know that I love you. That I’m in love with you and always will be.” His words begin pouring out of him, like a waterfall. 

“We’re broken.” You shrug your shoulders. “We always were.”

You didn’t give him a chance to speak again before you pushed past the confines of his body and back into the living room where all of your friends and Andrew celebrate.

[aventurineswife]

I was just playing HSR with background music on and it occurred to me...

What if SAHSR can hear the music you play?

I literally listen to everything

Phonk, romance, sad, early 2000's, kpop, etc

One minute it's a sweet and slow romance song, then it switches dramatically to some hardcore phonk and the characters reaction vary

(FIGHTING ENEMIES WITH PHONK GOES HARD🔥🔥🗣️)

Oh man, the amount of ideas I'm getting on what each character's favourite modern artist would be

(I believe in Boothill loving Lady Gaga)

I am FORCING the entirety HSR to listen to Lana Del Rey — 🤡 anon

Oh, this is chaos incarnate.

Imagine the self-aware HSR cast constantly subjected to your music choices—whether they like it or not. One second, it's a gentle, heartwarming ballad. The next? Hard bass phonk blasting through their souls.

Aventurine loves the unpredictability. One moment he's strutting to smooth jazz, the next he's cackling at death metal.

Sunday is eating this up. "Ah, what impeccable taste! Such grandeur! Such emotion!"

Dramatically sways to Lana Del Rey, then viciously air-guitars to a rock solo.

Jing Yuan enjoys soft, orchestral music. He can nap peacefully to it.

But suddenly? Hardcore phonk drops mid-slumber.

Jing Yuan, groggy, "…Is this punishment?"

Luocha is eerily unphased. He adapts to all genres seamlessly.

But secretly? He resonates with gothic, haunting music. Plays it off as coincidence.

Blade + sad romance music? Oh. Oh, he’s going through it. 😔💔

"Another song of lost love? Must you remind me, every waking moment?"

Dan Heng finds some of the lyrical poetry beautiful. But if it suddenly switches from melancholy to phonk mid-battle?

"This… is a contrast."

Welt respects classical music. Then you subject him to hyperpop.

"What... exactly is the appeal of this?" (But secretly, he likes it.)

Himeko taps her fingers to the beat of anything.

"At least they have variety."

Kafka LOVES how music can set a mood. Will comment on your song choices mid-fight.

"This one… is about betrayal, isn’t it? Is that a message, darling?"

Black Swan quietly memorizes your favorites. Will theorize about your emotions based on your playlist order.

Pfft, Boothill 😭🙏

"WHAT IN TARNATION IS THIS POP HIT??" (But he’s bopping to it. Don't let him fool you.)

You force-feed him Lady Gaga. And guess what?

He starts humming ‘Poker Face’ mid-duel. (He's definitely a Chappell Roan fan too, change my mind.)

They now associate certain songs with specific battles.

If they hear a familiar track, they brace themselves. "Ah. This is a boss fight song, isn't it?"

Argenti tries to compose poetry based on the lyrics you play.

March 7th now has a list of ‘Certified Bangers’ from your playlist.

And the worst part? They have no escape. You control the aux. Forever.

[beejunos]

SPEAK TO ME | Sneak peek [Alastor x f.reader] | SMUT (mdni)

Summary: Alastors voice turns you on. Something he loves to take advantage of.

If you want you read the full story, press THIS LINK

Did someone ask for an Alastor voice kink fic?! This is only a sneak peek! I hope to finish this little smutty story in about two days.

Halfway through your night routine, you turned on your radio at a soft, pleasant volume, and Alastor's smooth voice filled the otherwise silent room. 

"Salutations, friends and hellish residents! Tonight, we have a splendid assortment of the latest news and the best Hell has to offer in jazz, but before we chitchat about our dear city's hellish affairs, here is the newest music from Miss Jezebel and The Wicked Six!" 

Slow and sultry jazz music started to play on the radio. The woman who sang had a deep, smoky quality that was inherently sexy to you. There was just something about women who sang with deep voices that made your hips sway from side to side, effortlessly dancing across your room as you started to strip, pretending there was someone there who enjoyed the show you put on. 

You turned off all the lights except the small lamp by your bed and crawled under the thick blanket. You left the radio on as you made yourself comfortable, hugging one of your pillows close to you. 

The song ended, and Alastor came back. This time, he started talking about the news. Since the news sometimes made you too sad to sleep, you never really listened to what he was saying; you only listened to his voice—his tone, the cadence of his speech, and his transatlantic accent. 

You let his voice wash over you like a soothing balm to your aching body, but soon, you felt the familiar tingles run up your back. Warmth pooled low within you as you shifted in your bed, lying on your back. The desire to touch and be touched grew in you, to move, to grind, to satisfy the urge for sex. 

Closing your eyes and letting your hands wander over your body, you start by slowly dragging your fingertips over your sensitive throat, making sure that your light fingertips touch all the places that made you weak. 

Your hands travel from your throat down to your chest. Palming your breasts in your hand, you drag your nails over your sensitive nipples. Pinshin, pulling and rolling them between your fingers till they are warm and hard. 

Your senses sharpen as you start to feel more intensely, but your mind goes hazy, making it hard to think clearly. Alastors voice is but background noise now that edges you on.

One hand stays on your breast as the other journeys down, down, down and under your underwear. 

You slowly drag your finger between your lips, coating your finger in your wetness as you slowly pull it towards your clit. A breathless gasp is pulled from your mouth the first time your finger comes in contact with your sensitive clit. Slowly and with the lightest touch, you start to circle the organ, and what feels like electricity builds in your loins.

You can't help but move in your bed, legs bending and toes curling as you give yourself the pleasure that you wished Alastor would provide you. Your hand that previously played with your breast joined your other hand, and you let out a not-so-subtle moan as you pushed two fingers into you. Desperately, you curl your fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. 

You want it. You need it. Your toes curl almost painfully as Alastors name falls from your lips like a prayer. 

You're so close. So close you can see stars behind your eyes. You breathlessly chase that sweet release. Building, and building, and building. Your legs are shaking as you bite your lips. Hips lift from the mattress as you fight the urge to close your legs.

You are so, so close.

"What are you doing, my dear?" 

Cold dread crashes through your body as you rip your hands away from your body. You frantically look all over your room in the shadows. Looking for that all-knowing smile and calculating red eyes. 

His voice had been so close and clear that he had to be in your room. It had felt like he had spoken to you right beside your ear. But you were alone. No one was in your room but you. 

"Such a naughty little creature you are, my dear. So desperate to be touched." 

Goosebumps travel up your back as you slowly turn in the direction you hear his voice. On your nightstand is the radio that Alastor gave you. It is still on, but the yellow light of the display has turned red. 

Towering over you in your bed, you almost feel like he is watching you. Observing you as you lay naked in your bed. Your blankets were by the end of the bed as you had kicked them off a long time ago. 

"Can't even listen to me talking without having to touch yourself. My oh my, what will I ever do with such a bad little doe, hm?" 

Shaking all over, you reached for the radio's electrical cord and jerked it out of the outlet. The radio fell silent as you collapsed in your bed. Spent, but not satisfied. However, you soon start to tremble over the fact that Alastor had listened to you pleasuring yourself, and he seemed to like it.

[rmadridcore]

Through the Jazz

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: A charming and mysterious encounter at a jazz club leaves Jude captivated by someone who doesn’t recognize him, sparking his excitement for what’s next.

Word Count: 3.3K

Author’s note: Thank you anon for this request, it was so fun writing it, hope you enjoy! 🤍🤍🤍

“God, this lighting makes me want to rethink every selfie I’ve ever posted,” your friend joked, leaning over the table to adjust her hair, her face glowing faintly under the warm red lights of the jazz club.

You chuckled, taking in the ambiance. The room felt like it belonged to another time — dim crimson lighting casting a sultry glow, the hum of a live jazz band serenading the crowd with soulful melodies, and the murmur of quiet conversations blending with the occasional clink of glasses. People swayed in their seats or danced with languid grace, lost in the music and each other.

This was your ideal night out, no thumping bass, no deafening music that made conversations impossible, no rowdy strangers trying too hard to impress. Just you, your girls, a round of delicious cocktails, and a playlist that wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

Across the room, seated at a table with a few of his friends, Jude couldn’t take his eyes off you.

He’d come here seeking the same thing as you, a relaxed evening to unwind after a taxing week. This jazz club was one of his sanctuaries, a place where the world’s noise dimmed and the rhythm of the music matched the beat of his heart. Most nights, he came for the music, a drink or two, and easy conversations with his friends.

But tonight was different.

The moment he spotted you, every reason he’d had for coming here evaporated. The music became a soft blur in the background, the drink in his hand forgotten. His friends’ voices barely registered as his focus locked onto you.

You, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware of the attention.

Jude wasn’t used to this. Normally, his natural charm and status worked without much effort. A glance, a few clever lines, and he could start a conversation with ease. But tonight, he found himself overthinking every move. Something about you demanded more than the usual routine — more finesse, more thought.

At first, he assumed you’d noticed him and were playing coy, but after a few more minutes of watching you sip your cocktail, laugh at your friend’s jokes, and sway your leg subtly to the music, it became clear. You hadn’t even seen him.

And Jude liked that.

“She hasn’t noticed you yet?” one of his friends teased, nudging him.

“No,” Jude muttered, his eyes still on you.

“Why don’t you just walk over there and buy her a drink? Easy.”

“I can’t just interrupt her,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. He sounded calm, but inside, his nerves were alive. “She’s with her friends, and I don’t want to come off as... I don’t know, pushy.”

“She’s not going to notice you if you just sit here.”

Jude knew that. But you seemed... different. Sophisticated. Like the kind of woman who’d appreciate something thoughtful and intentional. Charging over with a cheesy pickup line wasn’t going to cut it.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” your friend asked, gesturing toward your empty Espresso Martini glass.

“Mhm.” You nodded softly, savoring the lingering flavor of the cocktail. It was exactly what you needed tonight — smooth, rich, and just a little indulgent.

“I think I’m going to get another one,” you announced, already craving the next. With your friends’ glasses still mostly full, you decided to head to the bar alone. Sliding onto a stool, you ordered another Espresso Martini and rested your hands on the sleek wooden counter, taking a moment to soak in the cozy hum of the jazz club.

Across the room, Jude saw you stand. His heart gave a subtle leap as you made your way to the bar. His friends exchanged knowing glances, one of them nudging him with a grin. Without hesitation, Jude rose from his seat. This was his chance.

“Wish me luck,” Jude murmured, adjusting his sleeves as he crossed the room.

As you waited for the bartender to finish your drink, the faint, woody scent of cologne caught your attention, drawing you to the presence beside you. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed someone taking the stool next to yours. He didn’t face the bar; instead, he angled himself toward you.

“Is it just me, or do they really make you earn your drinks here?” His voice was warm, with a playful edge.

You turned toward him, your gaze meeting a boyish smile that was entirely too charming for its own good. He had an easy confidence about him, and you wondered, just for a moment, what his face looked like fully lit by that smile.

“That depends,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “Did you charm your way up here, or are you next in line to complain?”

Jude chuckled, surprised by your quick wit. He’d been right, there was something different about you.

“Maybe a bit of both,” he said, his grin widening. “Figured I’d give it a shot. Worked better than waiting for someone to serve me.”

There it was — the full smile you’d been curious about. And it didn’t disappoint. His face lit up in a way that made you momentarily lose your train of thought.

“You’re bold,” you said as the bartender placed your drink in front of you. “What’s next? Going to critique my cocktail choice?”

Jude leaned slightly closer, inspecting your glass with exaggerated interest. “Let’s see… Espresso Martini?” He paused, feigning astonishment. “No way, I was about to order the same thing!”

The obvious lie made you laugh softly, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

“Okay, you caught me,” he admitted with a low chuckle. “But I’d say it’s a solid choice. Smooth, refined, just the right amount of kick. Kind of like you.”

You gave him a mockingly skeptical look but couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at your lips.

“Are you always this focused when you’re people watching, or am I just lucky to be in your line of sight tonight?” he asked, his tone teasing but not overbearing.

“People watching? Bold of you to assume I even noticed you.” Your words were playful, but they were also true. You hadn’t noticed him until now, and that realization seemed to intrigue him even more.

“Well, I noticed you,” Jude countered smoothly. “So either you’re exceptionally good at hiding it, or I’ve just got really bad luck.”

“You’re too smooth for your own good,” you said, sipping your drink. “Do girls actually fall for this?”

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his grin never faltering. “You tell me — are you falling?”

“Hm, not yet,” you teased, holding his gaze. “But you’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

“Not persistence, love,” he said, his voice dropping into a lower, silkier register. “Just good taste.”

You let out a soft laugh, swirling your drink absentmindedly. “Good taste, huh? Is that what brought you to a jazz club of all places?”

“Good music, good atmosphere,” he said, gesturing to the band. “And apparently, good company.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Do you come here often, or is it just my lucky night?”

“That depends,” Jude replied, matching your playful tone. “Are you always this charming, or is it just the jazz talking?”

“Oh, I’m always like this,” you said with mock seriousness. “You’d better keep up.”

“Who said anything about keeping up?” His voice softened, his words carrying an unmistakable weight. “I’d much rather keep you close.”

His eyes never left yours as he spoke, the intensity behind them making your breath hitch slightly. The flirtation was steady but not overwhelming, his tone perfectly balanced between confident and inviting. There was no rush, no pretense — just an undeniable connection.

The bartender offered Jude a drink. He shook his head politely, refusing it.

“Are you not going to order that Espresso Martini, or was that just a throwaway line?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I’m actually not supposed to drink much in the middle of the season,” he admitted, leaning back slightly against the bar.

You tilted your head in confusion, your curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, middle of the season? Season of what?”

He hesitated for the briefest moment, realizing how casually he’d let that slip. “You know, because of my job.”

You blinked at him, nonchalantly taking another sip of your drink. “What do you do?”

The question was so casual, so devoid of the recognition he was used to, that it hit him like a curveball. For the first time in years, someone his age didn’t seem to know who he was. He swallowed his initial surprise and decided to lean into it, enjoying the novelty.

“I… well, nothing too exciting,” he said, scrambling for something to say. “I run. And stuff.”

You stared at him for a moment before letting out a laugh, the sound light and melodic. He’d been wondering what your laugh might sound like, and now that he’d heard it, it surpassed even his wildest expectations.

“Run and stuff?” you repeated, chuckling. “Is that an official job title?”

He smiled sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for the ridiculous answer, but he didn’t care as long as he could keep hearing you laugh. It was such a beautiful sound, and knowing he’d caused it made his chest swell a little.

Jude had never been the type to flaunt his status, but this was new. Girls usually knew exactly who he was and often used it as their icebreaker. He wasn’t used to this kind of blank slate, and honestly, he loved it. With you, there was no pretense, no assumptions, and no expectations. He couldn’t lean on being Jude Bellingham, the star of England and Real Madrid. He couldn’t impress you with his accolades or fame. Instead, he had to charm you the old fashioned way — with wit, humor, and his own personality. And he found it refreshing.

For once, he wasn’t a star athlete; he was just another guy in a bar.

As he glanced at you, a thought flickered across his mind, and he tilted his head slightly, studying you in silence for a moment.

“What’s the look for?” you asked, squinting at him with playful suspicion.

He grinned softly, his gaze never wavering. “Just wondering how someone like you ended up in a place like this.”

“Someone like me?” you repeated, your curiosity rising.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “Someone who could make the whole room disappear.”

The compliment landed like a quiet ripple, subtle but powerful. You felt your cheeks grow warm, flustered by the easy way he said it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. You quickly brought your glass to your lips, hiding your reaction behind one of the final sips of your Martini.

“Alright,” you said with a smirk, setting your glass down. “That one was good. You get points for creativity.”

Jude’s grin widened as he caught the faint blush still lingering on your face. He could tell his words had affected you, and he loved that he was starting to crack through your calm exterior.

“Creativity?” he repeated with mock offense. “I was just being honest.”

You shook your head with a cheeky smile. “Honest or not, I’ll give you credit. But don’t let it go to your head.”

He laughed lightly, the sound warm and genuine. Complimenting you felt effortless to him. In fact, he could have gone on for hours, listing all the things he was already drawn to about you. But something told him to take his time. If tonight was any indication, there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

“Does that mean I’ve earned a dance?” he asked, his tone cheeky yet hopeful, his grin widening as he met your eyes.

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “Hmm… how about I come back in two minutes, and I’ll let you know if you’ve earned it?” you replied, finishing your drink and setting the glass down.

“I’ll take that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you stood, grabbed your purse, and excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick touch up.

Once inside, you gave your reflection a final once-over, ensuring your hair and makeup were flawless. There was something about the way Jude looked at you that made you want to bring your A game.

Meanwhile, Jude let out a deep breath. He’d gotten the green light, but now the real challenge loomed: dancing. Dancing was not his forte, but he was willing to risk it. He glanced over at his friends, who were watching him with knowing smirks. Shaking his head with a soft laugh, he adjusted his shirt and waited. His nerves weren’t focused on you possibly rejecting him but on whether he’d embarrass himself by stepping on your toes.

When you returned, you moved to settle your bill, but the bartender stopped you with a polite smile. “It’s already been taken care of,” he said, gesturing subtly toward Jude.

You turned to him, a playful smirk on your lips as you approached. “So…” he began, his tone laced with anticipation.

“I think you’ve earned a dance,” you teased, pausing for dramatic effect. “But only if you promise not to step on my toes.”

Shit.

Jude let out a nervous laugh, pretty uncertain about the promise.

“Deal,” he said with a grin, holding out his hand.

As he led you to the dance floor, the soft notes of John Coltrane’s My One and Only Love filled the air, a perfect melody for a slow dance.

The space wasn’t crowded, leaving the two of you plenty of room to move freely. He placed his hands gently on your waist, and you looped your arms around his neck. As your eyes met his, he felt the world shrink to just the two of you. The soft glow in your eyes, the delicate flutter of your lashes — it was all so simple yet so captivating. His heart skipped a beat, and a strange realization struck him: he didn’t even know your name, but you already felt special.

You moved together with an ease that surprised both of you. The initial clumsiness he feared melted away as you found a rhythm, the music guiding your steps.

“You’re not bad at this,” you said, breaking the silence with a small, teasing smile.

He chuckled softly. “Not bad? Careful with the compliments, or I might start thinking you like me.”

You laughed, a sound that sent a pleasant warmth through him. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’re doing okay… for now.” Your head tilted slightly as you gave him a soft, playful look.

“Okay,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, his expression more serious yet still teasing. “This is the best I’ve gotten all night. I’ll take it.”

The proximity between you felt charged. His cologne, woody and fresh, was intoxicating, as was the quiet power of his presence. There was a depth to him you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it intrigued you.

Jude found himself entirely lost in the moment. Being with you felt so different, so exceptional. You didn’t know who he was, and that was precisely what made this connection so meaningful. For once, he wasn’t Jude Bellingham the football star; he was just Jude — a guy trying to impress a beautiful stranger.

And it worked.

He could see it in the way you smiled at him, the way your body moved easily with his, the way you laughed at his jokes. You liked him for him, not for his fame or the life that came with it. It made him feel proud of himself — proud that he could charm you just by being genuine. As the song played on, he wished it would never end.

It did end, unfortunately to him, and as it did, neither of you moved at first, lingering in the intimate space you’d created on the dance floor. Jude wasn’t ready to let go, and for a moment, it seemed you weren’t either. But to his dismay, you were the one to step back first.

Your eyes flicked toward one of your girlfriends across the room, and with a subtle nod, you silently communicated your readiness to leave. She got the message, standing and making her way toward the exit with the others. You turned your attention back to Jude, your charming smile softening the blow of your departure.

“Well, mystery man, this was fun. Thanks for the drink and thanks for the dance,” you said gently.

“That’s it? You’re leaving?” Jude tried to mask the disappointment in his voice, but the slight edge in his tone betrayed him. He didn’t want the night to end — not yet, not like this.

You shrugged with a playful glint in your eye. “What can I say? I’m spontaneous like that.” And just like that, you turned and walked away, leaving him no chance to respond. As you joined your girlfriends at the door, you didn’t look back, disappearing into the night and leaving Jude standing on the dance floor, disappointed yet utterly captivated.

Jude was floored.

You were beautiful, witty, flirtatious, and effortlessly intriguing.

There was a magnetic pull about you, an undeniable charm that made him want to unravel all the mysteries you seemed to carry. Most of all, you made him feel like himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was just a guy — one who was utterly enthralled by someone who didn’t even know his name.

Usually, when Jude approached women, he was bold, direct, sometimes even audacious. But with you, it was different. He found himself holding back, wanting to show you his best side, wanting to prove he was a good guy while still keeping his natural charisma intact. You had him walking a fine line between flirtation and respect, and he loved every moment of it.

Returning to the table, Jude was greeted with knowing smirks and playful jabs from his friends.

“So, when’s the first date?” one of them teased, clearly sensing how smitten he was.

Jude froze. His stomach dropped. He didn’t have your number. He didn’t even know your name.

The realization hit him like a brick wall, and his stunned expression sent his friends into fits of laughter.

“Wait, you didn’t even get her name?!” one of them managed between chuckles.

Jude groaned, running a hand down his face. Usually, he’d fire back with a quick retort, but this time, his friends had a point. He had been completely out of his element, letting you walk away without so much as a way to find you again.

On the way home, Jude replayed the night in his head, trying to figure out how to fix his mistake. He refused to let this be the end. He’d start by asking around at the jazz club, see if any of the regulars knew you. If that didn’t work, he’d make it his weekly ritual to stop by in the hope that you’d show up again.

When he got home, still brooding over his missed opportunity, he tossed his keys on the counter and reached into his pocket for his phone. Instead, his fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Pulling it out, he found a folded napkin. His heart raced as he opened it, revealing a note written in elegant handwriting:

For the guy who runs for a living, call me if you need any cocktail recommendations.

Beneath it was your number, complete with a lipstick mark stamped beside it.

Jude couldn’t help the wide grin spreading across his face. His heart pounded as he bit his lip, a mix of relief and excitement flooding through him.

You’d left him with just enough to keep the connection alive — your charm lingering even in your absence.

Yup. He was definitely calling for some cocktail recommendations.

[nmakii]

RELIGION’S IN YOUR LIPS.

— making out with lucifer. that’s it

— gn!reader, no pronouns, a little mature?, religious themes

hell. the everlasting damnation for sinners; a place meant for the cruelest and barbaric of humanity. yet, their king was the purest heart of them all; a dreamer and an angel condemned for his huge dreams.

the cries of sinners echoed into white noise as smooth jazz played softly in the background. a gentle saxophone melody complimenting the deep vocals of the singer.

the moment at present was nothing but pure, passionate heaven. the beautiful angel before you gazing at you with lidded eyes as he grinned sappily.

and there in the dimly lit room, was only you and lucifer. in that room, there was no heaven, no hazbin hotel, no one else in the universe except for the two of you. no one but the two of you, here in this room as he gently held you by your hip, his left hand resting itself on your back.

the alter is my hips

even if its a false god,

we’d still worship this love

your forehead rested on his, softly swaying your hips to the sensual music. a sigh left lucifer’s lips as he leaned into your lips.

his left hand moved up, keeping you grounded to reality by your hair, gently guiding you into his lips.

your hands moved from his hips onto his shoulder and on his cheek, gently rubbing his jawline with your thumb.

his intoxicating kiss simply took your breath away. his left hand moving onto your chin, gently pleading for access into your mouth.

you graciously granted his wish, not even having a second to breathe before his forked tongue made it’s way into your mouth.

his hand on your hip tightened its’ grip, keeping you close to him, almost as if he was afraid you’d vanish before his eyes.

his tongue explored your mouth as far as he could, claiming every part of your gorgeous mouth as his own; your rosy lips, your sharp tongue— it was his.

the two of you had been brought back to reality by the fading of the harmonic melody, signifying the end of the seductive song.

as you pulled back, the two of you caught your breath, enraptured with each other’s taste. simply greedy for more, eyes begging for more of each other as you leaned in closer.

perhaps that’s why you’re in hell.

oh well.

you might as well give into that greed, right?

[cera-writes]

an idea: slow dancing w remy! (x reader ofc)

ma belle evangeline from princess and the frog came on my spotify shuffle earlier, and all i can think about is dancing with him with the song in the background 😭

love your fics btw!!🫶🫶

A/N: This idea makes me really, really soft 🥹 That's also one of my favorite Disney movies <3 Pairing: Remy LeBeau x gn!Reader Tags: slow dancing, Disney music, fluff, close proximity

Ma Belle Evangeline

The air was thick with the scent of magnolias and the distant hum of conversation as you found yourself standing at the edge of a bustling New Orleans courtyard. The night was alive with the sounds of jazz, and above, the Spanish moss swayed gently in the warm breeze. Your eyes caught sight of Remy LeBeau, Gambit, across the space, his gaze equally drawn to you. The band began to play "Ma Belle Evangeline," a song that always made you think of him, naturally.

Without a word, Remy approached, his eyes never leaving yours. He extended a hand, his touch electric as it met your skin. "Shall we dance, mon cher?" he murmured, his voice low and inviting.

You nodded, unable to speak, and let him lead you onto the makeshift dance floor. The world around you faded into the background as the music enveloped you both. Remy pulled you close, his hand firm on your waist, guiding you effortlessly through the steps. You could feel the rhythm of his heart against your chest, matching the beat of the song.

As the chorus swelled, Remy leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Tout le jour, je pense à toi," he whispered, his French accent thick and enticing. His words, a soft confession of thoughts throughout the day, sent shivers down your spine.

You looked up at him, your own feelings mirrored in his eyes. "And what do you think about, Remy?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, a hint of mischief lighting up his face. "I think about how I wanna dance witchu under de stars every night," he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

The song continued, each note a testament to the growing connection between you. Remy's hand slid gently up your back, sending sparks of desire through you. You closed your eyes for a moment, lost in the sensation of his body pressed against yours, the world reduced to just the two of you and the music.

When you opened your eyes again, Remy was watching you, his expression tender. "You look beautiful tonight, mon cœur ," he said, his gaze sincere.

You blushed, ducking your head slightly. "Thank you," you murmured, your heart pounding in your chest.

The song reached its crescendo, the notes soaring into the night sky. Remy spun you lightly, then drew you back against him, his arms encircling you tightly. You felt safe, cherished, in his embrace.

As the final strains of the song faded away, Remy bowed low over your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Until next time, ma belle," he whispered, his voice filled with promise.

You stood there, your hand still tingling from his touch, as he straightened and gave you one last, lingering look before turning to rejoin the crowd. The night seemed to hold its breath, waiting, as you stood there, lost in the afterglow of the dance and the secrets shared beneath the Spanish moss.

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 18)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

Birmingham - Three Weeks Later

It was around 8 o'clock when you arrived at Arrow House, wearing a floor-length black dress that showed off your curvaceous physique and accentuated your statuesque presence. The dress highlighted your luscious cleavage and revealed tantalising flashes of your smooth legs whenever you walked.

Accompanied by your new partner Robert, you were rather late as your baby-boy did not want to go to sleep without you rocking him in your arms. Leaving him with your maid, who had travelled with you from Boston, made you nervous but Robert reminded you that an event like the one tonight was not one to be shared with minors.

As such, when finally arriving at Arrow House, you already found the estate buzzing with activity - people talking excitedly about the impending nuptials of Tommy and Lizzie.

The grand old house seemed even more majestic now than you had remembered. There was music playing in the background, creating a romantic atmosphere for the forthcoming wedding ceremony which was something that made you feel conflicted. 

Out of all women in England, it was Lizzie who your uncle Tommy had chosen to marry and, whilst you knew why he had decided to tie the knot with this woman, you wished that he did not. 

With a hint of disgust on your mind, you glanced at your reflection in a nearby mirror, adjusting your hair slightly before heading towards the festivities.

Robert held your hand lightly, leading you across the marvelously decorated ballroom where guests sat sipping champagne and enjoying live jazz music played by a talented band onstage. Your heart ached for Tommy, wondering if this marriage would truly bring happiness to him after everything you two had experienced together. In truth, a small piece of you yearned for him, craving the chance to explore those undeniable connections between you.

But then, the other part of you felt nothing but hatred for the fact that he never wrote to you in the past twelve months.

Hadn't he ever missed you? Did you mean less to him than the woman he was about to marry? These questions circled endlessly in your mind, driving you mad while making you question whether keeping your memories alive was worth the pain. 

Although you had written twice to him, without a response, you knew that Tommy was unaware of the fact that you had his child and so was everyone else. Everyone but Ada. 

You also had not seen anyone but Ada until now and whilst your father had written letters of nothing to you twice a month, it was Linda who caused him to be estranged, adding even more complexities to your strained family ties.

Seeing him standing there now with his brother Tommy, in the distance, sent waves of mixed emotion through you and, usurpingly, on seeing you enter, the room went silent.

Tommy's gaze locked onto yours, a mixture of surprise and curiosity warring across his features.

Lizzie, on the other hand, appeared irritated by your arrival. Her brow furrowed in annoyance as she realized that another potential threat stood among the crowd. 

All eyes turned towards you as you approached the center of the room, radiating confidence in your sleek, high-slung black dress that hugged your curves perfectly. With each step taken, a sense of unease seemed to permeate the space, and the only sound heard was the heavy beat of your footsteps against the polished wooden floor.

Even amidst the chaos, you couldn't help but notice the way Tommy's gaze followed you relentlessly, like a predator studying its prey.

His hungry eyes bore into yours, sending shivers down your spine. The unspoken desire that flowed between you was palpable, nearly tangible. Lizzie's jealousy could be read clearly in her scowl directed your way, causing you to smile subtly to yourself as she noticed your acknowledgment.

Reaching Tommy's side, you greeted him coolly with a nod and a forced smile, determined not to let him see how affected you were by his magnetic pull even after twelve months of silence from him.

Glancing over at Lizzie, you offered her a polite yet detached nod as well, trying to maintain a neutral demeanor amidst the storm brewing within you before approaching her and her husband to be more closely.  

"Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," you stated calmly, feigning indifference as you spoke. Lizzie's expression remained frosty, refusing to return your gesture. "Thank you," she responded coldly, turning away from you as quickly as possible while Tommy assessed your companion.

"Who is this?" Tommy asked, casting a skeptic glance toward you. His tone betrayed the uncertainty he harbored regarding your unexpected presence at his home, which was something he clearly knew nothing about.

"This is Robert. My partner," you introduced calmly, hiding any trace of lingering attraction towards Tommy behind a veneer of composure. Giving Lizzie a wary once-over, you continued, "He is a doctor, in Boston. We met at a charity event there," you then continued before allowing your father, Arthur, to give you a hug.

"A doctor, eh?" Arthur interjected, smiling politely, before introducing himself as Arthur Shelby, your father, to him.

In turn, Robert shook hands firmly with him, seeming eager to impress him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby," he said, to which Arthur smiled approvingly, feeling impressed by the young man's enthusiasm while you, in turn, felt impressed by your father's attitude towards your newfound love. With his third child on the way, he had clearly softened a bit. 

Meanwhile, your attention shifted back to Tommy, whose focus returned to you. The intensity of his gaze sent chills down your spine, stirring feelings buried deep inside you.

"It must be serious if you bring him here, to fucking Birmingham, eh?" Tommy retorted sharply, eyeing both you and Robert suspiciously. His sarcastic words stung, triggering hurt and confusion. 

"For a matter of fact, it is. Robert asked me to marry him," you informed them casually, looking steadily at both Tommy and Lizzie, attempting to conceal the swell of anxiety building within you.

An awkward silence filled the air momentarily as your statement reverberated throughout the room. Tommy's face flushed red frustration.

"Is that true?" he snapped at Robert, challenging his credibility. "You proposed to her?" Tommy wanted to know, causing Robert to nod nervously.

"Yes, Mr, uhm, Shelby..." Robert began to say without a formal introduction, to which you informed him that his name was Tommy and that he was your uncle. 

"That explains things," Robert commented before silently acknowledging the fact that there were some incredible physical similarities between your son and your uncle Tommy. 

"Well, congratulations to you both!" Tommy exclaimed, raising his glass to salute you before taking a generous gulp of whiskey. However, you could tell that he was still struggling to process the news, his emotions bubbling beneath the surface. This wasn't what he expected or wanted, especially considering the tension simmering between you and Lizzie since you set foot into the hall. The last thing he needed right now was more drama, particularly involving someone connected to his beloved niece whom he secretly desired.

"Thank you, Uncle," you replied coldly as the tension grew thick around you and, luckily for you, it was at this point, that you were whisked away by your aunt Polly.

As you turned your back towards Tommy, his piercing eyes seemed to burn into you, leaving no doubt that he saw you differently compared to others present. The sight triggered powerful sensations within you that you struggled to control, prompting you to take a deep breath before joining Polly.

Walking beside you, Polly patted your arm comfortingly, noticing the slight tremble in your voice. As you stepped out into the hallway, she leaned closer, whispering softly in your ear, "it was me who sent the invitation."

The shock registered instantly upon your face, leaving you speechless for a brief moment. "Why?" you eventually managed to ask, confused by her decision, seeing that it was her who suggested you go to Boston in the first place. 

"Because Thomas has been making bad choices since you left," Polly confided earnestly, her eyes gleaming with concern. She took a steadying breath, continuing quietly, "There is such darkness in him these days and it worries me."

Your throat tightened with a mix of sympathy and anger and you wondered how much your absence affected him.

"Polly, you made him send me away and I started a new life, in Boston, with Robert now. I am happy," you lied before continuing on. "So, I am not here to fix Tommy for you," your lips formed a thin line, showing disapproval for Polly's attempt to change your fate.

"No, sweetheart. You won't need to. The existence of your son will do that," Polly explained gravely, pointing out that you having had a child with Tommy would naturally draw him back to reason. 

"You know about my son?" you demanded, surprised that Polly was aware of your baby's existence. It didn't escape your notice that she might have known all along, choosing to remain quiet about it, perhaps wanting to spare you further heartache during those early months when you hadn't heard anything from Tommy either.

Her eyes flashed with sorrow, and she gave a gentle nod.

"I knew that you were pregnant before you left Birmingham. It was one of the reasons I wanted you gone. But please don't think ill of me. I did what I thought best for everyone involved," Polly explained, her voice laced with regret. You listened carefully, trying to reconcile everything she told you tonight and how it tied together. Your head reeling with so many revelations and emotions flooding your system, your stomach clenched painfully.

"All you and Thomas ever thought about were these goddamn elections. This is why he is marrying Lizzie, isn't it? Because she had his daughter, and it would look bad for him if it was to be found out that he fathered a child with a career prostitute," you murmured aloud with anger and frustration.

"Yes. It was the plan all along until you came into the picture," she admitted sadly, confirming your suspicions. "Then he fell for you, and I should have let him, no matter the consequences," her voice cracked slightly, expressing regret over the mistakes they had made.

"He shot three men last night, without remorse, because of some feud with the Chinese. And, the illegal business activities are continuing after, just fourteen months ago, he was certain that, within the year, Shelby Company Limited would thrive from its legitimate business activities alone," Polly then went on to explain without giving you much context but the information was alarming enough to make you worry about what you were walking into.

"Like I said, I am not here to fix Tommy for you. You have to do that on your own," you insisted stubbornly, standing your ground against your aunt's manipulative plans. You weren't going to become part of another game you played second fiddle to the family's ambitions. That time had passed.

"Well then I can only hope that you continue to stay safe wherever you are because, clearly, you have no idea what Tommy is sending through to Boston next. It's not just fucking booze anymore," Polly muttered under her breath, her eyes searching yours with unspoken messages. 

"What do you mean?" you questioned cautiously, wondering where exactly the situation was heading. Your curiosity piqued, your fingers drummed impatiently against your side. "Is it snow?" you then asked, but she shook her head.

She paused briefly, deliberating whether or not to divulge sensitive information to you. But then, finally, she decided to trust you implicitly, understanding your resolve to live independently of the crime syndicate.

"It's opium, Love, and you need to watch your back," Polly revealed solemnly, grabbing your hand urgently.

A mixture of horror and disbelief spread across your features.

"Opium? What does Tommy want with opium?" You couldn't hide your fear and uncertainty about the implications. Opium trade brought immense danger to anyone associated with it, not just legally, but also socially. 

"Perhaps you should ask him yourself," Polly advised, although her tone indicated reluctance, likely knowing full well the outcome.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, you continued to walk alongside Polly, listening intently as she spoke candidly about your uncle's recent descent into what she called the "darkness" and how he was becoming even more dangerous than before. The thought terrified you, imagining Tommy turning against his very own kin, including himself. Yet, you also understood that people like Tommy couldn't simply cease being who they were born to be. 

They were products of their environments, trapped within their pasts, bound by chains woven from their ancestors' decisions. And yet, amidst the chaos and violence surrounding him, there was always something undeniably appealing about Tommy's brutish charm, a magnetism that drew you irresistibly toward him, awakening a hunger you didn't fully comprehend.

When you looked at Tommy, your eyes locked onto his deep blue gaze, a reflection of the storm brewing inside him and, later in the evening, with Robert mingling in the crowd, you decided to confront him.

Without hesitation, you sauntered towards him, the confidence you possessed radiating off every step you took.  

His attention immediately shifted to you, the intensity of his gaze burning hotter than before, sparking memories of countless steamy encounters shared. Despite his determination to ignore you, the connection between you two was undeniable as you spoke.

"A word, please," you requested casually, your voice deceptively calm as his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"If you want to discuss your wedding plans, Love, then I suggest you do this with Ada, not me, eh?" Tommy responded dismissively, attempting to brush you aside while focusing on assessing your partner Robert whom he clearly disapproved of. 

"I want to talk about business matters," you clarified steadfastly, determined to confront him directly. 

"My office then," Tommy agreed, leading you through the crowded ballroom filled with guests and servants, none of whom noticed you leaving together.

Once outside, however, the tension escalated palpably, causing both of you to exchange guarded glances. You felt an invisible force drawing you closer to him, a magnetic pull emanating from his raw masculinity which erupted completely as soon as you reached his chambers.

For a short moment, his eyes lingered on your form silently, absorbing every curve, every feature – your mouth, your neck, your hands… The room seemed to spin around you as he caressed your cheekbone gently, trailing downwards towards your shoulder.

Suddenly then, Tommy’s lips pressed firmly against yours, his tongue sweeping boldly into your mouth, catching you by surprise. 

Much to Tommy's surprise, however, you pushed him away forcefully and slapped him hard across the face.

"How fucking dare you!" you seethed, struggling to maintain composure, unable to believe his audacity.

Stunned, he stepped backward, holding his reddened cheek as if uncertain how to react.

"Twelve months it has been, Tommy! You pushed me away. I tried to call you. I have sent you two letters and I got nothing in return until Polly sent me this fucking invitation, to your fucking wedding!" Your voice trembled with rage, tears threatening to spill over as you expressed your disappointment. Your sudden explosion caught him entirely off-guard, revealing a vulnerability hidden beneath his swaggering facade.

Tommy stood silent for a few moments, unsure how to proceed or apologise for his behavior. His eyes darted nervously around the room, avoiding direct contact with yours, betraying his guilt.

Finally, he cleared his throat, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Look, we both knew that this couldn't work. You are my fucking niece and I needed to distance myself from you," Tommy said and his voice held a hint of desperation, seeking forgiveness.

"Yes, and you did that, quite well if I may add. And now, I am with Robert and he is a good a man," you pointed out, raising your brow slightly, challenging him to argue otherwise. 

"A good man, eh?" Tommy chuckled dryly, his eyes piercing straight through you, exposing the truth behind his words. "Is that really what you want, Love? A good fucking man?" he wanted to know and you bit your lip in annoyance.

"Well, yes, a good man is better than a man who will put me and my son into danger," you retorted defiantly, crossing your arms resolutely in anger.

"Your what?" Tommy asked, shocked and confused about you mentioning a child, before carrying on. "I can't believe that, within a few months of you moving to fucking Boston, you let this fucking yank knock you up," Tommy spat angrily, thinking that it was Robert who had fathered your son. 

"Oh my god, Thomas..." you sighed heavily. "Robert isn't the father. I was already pregnant when I moved to Boston." There was a pause in your statement as you collected your thoughts, trying to discern how best to break this news to Tommy.

"But listen," you began slowly, feeling the weight of the secret growing heavier within you. "I didn't know at the time. I wanted to terminate, but it was too late. I was too far gone," you carried on and, as those words left your lips, you watched carefully for any change in expression on Tommy's face. 

"Fucking hell," he growled, rubbing his temples, evidently lost in thought.

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[thirtysomethingloser92]

Hi hi I was just wondering if ur taking requests could u do a 97!Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!reader headcanon list of going on a date in New Orleans 👉🏼👈🏼

I don't think I've ever done a headcannon list before so I'LL TRY.

Remy, ever the charmer, surprises you with an invitation in true Cajun fashion—leaving a handwritten note with a single red rose at your doorstep. The note simply reads, "Dinner à New Orleans, chérie? Pack y'self a lil' dress, we gon' have some fun."

Remy picks you up in a sleek black convertible, the engine purring as music plays softly in the background. He's dressed in a tailored dark suit with a hint of his usual flair—a red silk shirt peeking through. He gives you a once-over, eyes sparkling as he says, "Mon dieu, chérie, y'lookin' like a dream come true."

He takes you on a leisurely walk through the French Quarter before dinner, guiding you by the hand through cobblestone streets. Remy points out little historical tidbits and shares colorful local legends, his arm occasionally brushing yours. He loves showing off his city, and his accent grows thicker the more excited and animated he gets. His pride in his roots is infectious, and you can’t help but feel enamored by his passion.

Remy makes sure you stop for a moment to enjoy the vibrant street performers—a lively jazz band plays under the glow of old-fashioned street lamps. Without warning, he spins you into a playful dance right there on the sidewalk, leading you in a few smooth, flirty moves. He chuckles when you stumble slightly, pulling you closer and whispering, "Just follow m'lead, chère."

He takes you to a hidden gem restaurant known only to locals—tucked away, intimate, and filled with the aromas of Cajun spices. You’re seated in a cozy corner, candles flickering softly on the table. Remy orders in flawless French, his eyes never leaving yours. The conversation flows effortlessly between playful banter and deeper confessions, with Remy listening intently whenever you speak.

Remy insists on ordering a variety of dishes for you to try—gumbo, crawfish étouffée, jambalaya—each one more delicious than the last. He teases you about the spices, but when you handle the heat with ease, he raises an impressed eyebrow. "Didn’t think y’could keep up wit’ a Cajun’s palate, chère. Guess y'full of surprises, huh?"

At one point, Remy uses his powers in a subtle yet impressive display. With a flick of his wrist, he charges a small card, letting it glow softly in the dim light before tossing it away, harmlessly discharging the energy. It’s his way of showing off, but also a reminder that beneath the charm and the smiles, he’s got an edge that’s both thrilling and dangerous.

After dinner, Remy whisks you away to a riverboat cruise along the Mississippi. The boat is old-fashioned, with a big paddlewheel and a lively jazz band playing on the deck. He takes you out onto the balcony where the city lights glitter on the water. As you lean on the railing, he wraps his coat around your shoulders and stands close behind, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs about the sights.

Near the end of the night, Remy takes you to a little antique shop that’s open late. He insists on buying you a small keepsake—a delicate locket with a tiny flower engraved on it. He fastens it around your neck, his fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary as he gazes into your eyes. "Now y’got a piece of New Orleans wit’ ya, wherever y’go."

He walks you back to your door, the night air still warm and filled with the faint scent of magnolias. Remy leans against the doorframe, smirking as if he’s in no rush to leave. When the moment finally feels right, he steps closer, tilting your chin up gently. His kiss is soft and slow at first, filled with unspoken promises of more nights like this. As you part, he whispers, "Bonne nuit, ma belle. This ain’t gon’ be our last rendezvous."

[roxxie-wolf]

𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓇𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓃𝓈 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒

Pairing: Human!Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your parents want you to marry someone of their choice, but you already have eyes on someone else. Will you follow what your parents think is best for you or will you go with what your heart desires.

Word Count: 790

Warnings: human!alastor x fem!reader, slow burn, this story may contain mature sexual content. Your in your late 20’s, Alastor is in his early 30’s, you still live with your parents idk.

Note: Im not sure how this chapter turn out, but I still hope you guys like it. <3

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝟤

As you walked through the busy streets of New Orleans, the scent of beignets and coffee filled the air, tempting your senses. The sound of jazz music played in the background, adding to the lively atmosphere of the city. You couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and wonder as you took in the sights and sounds around you.

Standing outside a quaint cafe, you observed the hustle and bustle, watching as people hurriedly passed by. Your gaze swept over the diverse crowd, until your eyes landed on a handsome man who stood out from the rest. He had an air of mystery about him, and you couldn't help but be drawn to him.

A smile spread across his face as he locked eyes with you. You looked away, a blush creeping onto your cheeks, before retreating back into the cafe you had been standing in front of.

After a few minutes you reappeared, walking out of the cafe and heading in the direction of your home, not noticing someone was following you. When out of nowhere a man suddenly stepped in front of you, blocking your path.

"Hello, darling," his voice smooth and charming as he extended his hand towards you. You looked up at the man, your eyes widened with surprise as you took in his handsome features and piercing honey brown eyes. He towered over you, his muscular yet slim frame exuding strength. This was the same man that smiled at you not to long ago. You hesitated for a moment before tentatively placing your hand in his.

The man raised your hand to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. "Hello," your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze, feeling a strange connection with him.

As the man leaned down to your eye level, still holding your hand in his, you looked into his eyes. Your own filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. You felt a pull towards him, as if he held the key to unlocking a part of yourself that had long been dormant.

“If I may know, what is your name dear?”

“Y/N”

You replied almost instinctively, the name slipping from your lips before you could catch it. Your hand flew to your mouth, a barrier against further unguarded moments. You chastised yourself silently; you had to be cautious, yet here you were, disarmed by a stranger's gaze.

He let out a chuckle seeing how quickly you covered your mouth. Introducing himself as Alastor, you felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over you. His voice was soothing, and his gaze seemed to pierce through your very soul. You couldn't quite place it, but there was something about him that drew you in.

"Alastor.”

You whispered under your breath, the name rolling off your tongue with an ease that surprised you. The sense of familiarity persisted, a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that you had heard his name before.

"What brings you out here darling?" Alastors voice brought you back from your own thoughts. You look at this handsome stranger standing before you, his piercing gaze making your heart skip a beat. "I was actually heading home, that is until you stopped me of course," you smiled feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "Oh, my apologies dear," he stepped aside with a polite smile.

"May I walk you home?"

You hesitated for a moment, but the thought of having his company and protection was too tempting to resist. "Yes, I would appreciate that," a shy smile playing on your lips.

He put his arm out for you to take, and you did. Alastor walked beside you as you continued down the crowded streets of New Orleans. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself completely enthralled by him.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort with him by your side, his presence calming your nerves and easing your fears. You didn’t understand why you felt the way you did considering you just met him, but there was something about him.

As you reached your doorstep, you turned to bid Alastor farewell. But before you could say anything, he reached out and gently brushed a lock of hair away from your face. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand.

"Thank you for walking me home.”

"It was my pleasure, until we meet again, my dear.”

You watched him walk back the path you two came from, his figure slowly fading into the distance until he disappeared from your view. Leaving you with a sense of longing and a heart full of curiosity.

🌸𝒫𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈🌸 🌸𝒩𝑒𝓍𝓉🌸

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list so you be updated every time.^^ I do try to proofread but if I missed something please let me know.

Also I sometimes tend to make minor changes to the chapters.

Thank you! For reading I hope you enjoyed it.💖

TAGLIST: @magictoebean

[stellar-skyy]

Could I order a hot white tea for Aventurine? If you can also add angst to confort please 👀

“order up! i have a white tea for aventurine, fresh and hot!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: At a work event, your coworker offers you a dance. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. aventurine x gn!reader. reader & aven are coworkers. mild angst & fluff. 1.6k words. iii. A/N: thank you for the order! i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t their plan to hide in the corner all night, but it was where they ended up; drink clutched in both hands, shoulders hunched tightly, and eyes cast to the floor. All around them, their colleagues and fellow members of the Interastral Peace Corporation mingled and danced, filling the night with a dull drone of chatter and laughter. Around the groups and pairs scattered across the hall, were those few idly loitering on the outskirts like shadows, themself included.

They could busy themself for a while pretending to survey the hors d'oeuvres arranged on the table, but soon enough they would catch someone’s attention. Then would come the questions of why they were avoiding people, and the feeble attempts to drag them into a conversation they had far too little energy to engage in.

A charity ball, organized by their colleagues and funded by the ICP themselves. It seemed like a perfect idea when it was pitched, all up until they were standing alone in a crowded room, trapped in layers of formalwear the dug into their sides. The festivities grew all too much after a while, leaving them exhausted and weary of every greeting and smile.

It was much easier to turn their back on the other guests and ignore them for however long they could manage. That way, they weren’t forced into mindless small talk, or dragged into a half-hearted dance with any of their coworkers. They were fully content on spending the rest of their evening on the sidelines alone, without anyone to disturb their—

“Ahem.”

Peace.

The voice tore straight through their attempt to sink into the background, silky smooth and laced with the slightest trace of amusement. They lifted their head up, hands tightening around the drink in their hands and lips forming his name before they even had to look at him.

“Aventurine.”

The man smiled. He was dressed much more formal than usual, decked out in a three-piece suit with a deep green tie. It was tailored, cut and shaped around each part of his body to fit him perfectly. The outfit was simple, but it suited him well; even in a room of people dressed in their finest, he managed to outshine every one of them.

“You’re certainly hidden well, aren’t you?” Aventurine remarked, plucking a canapé off the table beside them and popping it into his mouth. “How long have you been here? An hour? Two?”

“I wasn’t hiding—” They tried to say, before they were cut off with a laugh.

“You can lie, but not well enough to fool me.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t make excuses. I really don’t care that much.”

The music changed suddenly, turning from a light jazz to a slower tune, complete with sweeping violins and deep echoes of a cello. Like clockwork, the few folks dancing in the centre paired up—both actual couples who had attended together, and coworkers who hurriedly joined together in time for the song to start.

Aventurine cleared his throat again. When they turned to him, there was a look in his eye that told them he was planning something.

“I did have something I wanted to ask, however. May I have this dance?” he asked with a small smile, hand outstretched.

They bit back any retort that might have been on their tongue, as he stood waiting their response with a glint in his eye. It was a challenge, like everything was with him; a bet to whether their pride outweighed their self-consciousness. They could almost see the dice rolling behind his eyes, breath held in anticipation.

If it was a game he was playing, they would be happy to indulge him, if only for an evening. It wasn’t as though they had anything else to do, other than waiting idly in the corner for the music to die down and the guests to leave. They could spare whatever was left of their energy for a few minutes of dancing.

“Of course,” they said, taking his hand. A look of surprise crossed his face for only a moment before it was replaced with a wider grin.

“Ah, I knew I came over here to a reason,” Aventurine smiled, leading them away from the corner and into the lights.

They were uncomfortably aware of each eye fixed on their back, but Aventurine was unfazed; his hand was firm in holding onto theirs in a surprisingly gentle grip. His gloved thumb softly stroked the side of their hand, a move that was much too close to romantic for their liking.

“Are you ready?” he asked, when they reached the floor.

“Yes,” they said instantly, and hoped it wasn’t a lie.

He laced his fingers through their hand, sliding his other over their hips. A heat flushed across their face—the result of the stuffiness inside the venue, no doubt—and they fumbled to place their hand on his shoulder.

“You act like you’ve never danced before,” he laughed.

The music swelled, and Aventurine began to lead their dance. One step, then two and three. He was surprisingly adept at sweeping them across the floor, out of the way of the rest of the dancers, while keeping up their pace.

Together they twirled and spun, in time as the music sung a chorus for them and them only. The rest of the guests faded away, until the two of them were alone on the dancefloor, held tightly in each other’s arms. It crossed their mind, for a moment, that the scene was something more suited to a couple than a pair like them. They wondered if he was thinking the same, whether he thought it odd that they were so close. Was he regretting his choice of dance partner, or feeling thankful he asked them?

They found themself glancing around them throughout, but oddly enough Aventurine’s eyes never left them. He seemed transfixed, watching them carefully as they seemed to melt into the dance.

“Are you ready?” He asked abruptly, just as the music reached a crescendo.

“What?”

“Are you ready?” He repeated in lieu of an explanation.

“Ready for wh—” they tried to ask, but were suddenly pulled into a spin. He let go of their waist, long enough to twirl them around as they squeaked in surprise. Their head was reeling by the time he pulled them back, holding them even tighter so they didn’t fall over.

“Ready to be spun,” he clarified, a moment too late.

“Yeah,” they breathed, hand clinging tightly to his shoulder to balance themself. “Yeah… I got that, now.”

The two of them whirled and spun for some time more—was it minutes? Hours? It was long enough for the music to change again, into an equally slow but slightly more melancholy song—before he spoke up again.

“You’re not a fan of dancing?” Aventurine asked, an eyebrow raised. The question was posed in his usual lilting voice, but there was a note of concern in his tone that wasn’t present in the moments before.

“Why do you ask?”

Aventurine paused to spin them past another dancing couple—a woman who was giggling far too loudly, and a man who seemed like he would rather be anywhere else—before continuing. “Well, for starters you haven’t made eye contact with me for more than a few seconds this entire time. You keep looking down at your feet.”

The music swelled. Aventurine abruptly pulled them into a low dip, leaning down so their faces were close enough that they could taste his breath. Their heartrate spiked, loud enough to drown out the music, but not enough to mask Aventurine’s voice.

“Is something wrong, [Name]?” He whispered into their lips, and all of a sudden they couldn’t breathe.

Not while you’re here was their first thought, but it was something far too raw to speak out loud, and only a half-truth. Aventurine’s presence had managed to quell some of the discomfort eating away at their stomach, but he was only a pretty distraction to the uneasiness that threatened to sweep them off their feet in the worst way. It whittled away at their already cracked mask of indifference, leaving them desperately holding the pieces together.

The eyes were still there, watching. They tracked their every move, noting each way they tilted further into his body to shield themself from their sight. He noticed too, pulling them up and out of the dip and turning them away from the people staring.

“Can we just go?” They whispered hollowly. He blinked, seeming to be caught off guard by the defeat in their voice. The shift in his demeanour was immediate, like a switch had been flipped.

“Of course, let’s—” Aventurine cleared his throat, standing straighter. “Let’s go.”

His hand rested on their lower back, guiding them out of the ballroom. The eyes never left, but Aventurine met them with a glare, and slowly they turned their gaze.

 “After you,” he said, opening the wide doors and beckoning them through. And in the open air, they remembered to breathe. “Now, is something the matter?”

They shifted in their steps, tugging on the edge of their sleeves. Was something the matter? It was a perfectly reasonable question, especially since they dragged him out of the event so suddenly, but they were at a loss for an answer.

“I don’t know. I just—” They let out a shuddering breath. “I just wanted to leave.”

Aventurine hummed. “I suppose that’s something enough.”

“I’m sorry,” they whispered.

“No apologising,” he chided, flicking them lightly on their arm. “You can’t be expected to want to be social at every moment. It’s not like I was inclined to spend my entire evening talking to my coworkers.” He shook his head. ��Let yourself breathe once in a while, okay?”

“…I guess.”

“Come on. Let me walk you home.”

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[funniestpersonalivefr]

resident evil music headcanons

OKAY OKAY first time writing something and putting it out there but i need to speak my truth lmfao. dont judge too harshly im just autistic about resident evil

includes: albert wesker, leon s kennedy, chris redfield, claire redfield, jill valentine, rebecca chambers, and carlos oliveira

albert wesker:

let's be so fr wesker is gonna be a prick about music

only listens to classical music and maybe some slow smooth jazz

he only listens to music at home playing it through a record player

just imagine him sitting in his at home office working on research with tchaikovsky playing in the background

he'd enjoy going to ballets, symphonies, and operas and you cannot convince me other wise

leon s kennedy:

"he's so lana del ray coded" shut up his ass is listening to limp bizkit be so fr

especially when he's older its just divorced depressed dad rock

he's screaming the words to higher by creed in a bar and chris is trying to calm him down like yikes

definitely would try to go to concerts but they get so loud it gets a little overwhelming for him

he's got a banger cd collection and he's got a portable cd player he refuses to get rid of

chris redfield:

he says he doesn't have that much of preference in music as he just will listen to whatever is playing on the radio

however i think he definitely likes classic rock and classic country

he enjoys bands like queen, pink floyd, and the police

with his work schedule he rarely gets the opportunity to attend concerts and a lot of his favorite artists are dead (rip me too tho)

chris doesn't listen to a bunch of music but that's okay the man is busy

claire redfield:

claire, claire, claire

i wanna say claire is listening to abba and she sings along and dances whenever she does

she also would listen to stevie nicks

(also probably bands like weezer and gorillaz)

and i think as lana del ray started popping off claire was there listening like cmon guys she'd love the ultraviolence album

jill valentine:

jill is listening to the cranberries and the cardigans

when she was younger she loved loud rock but as she's getting older she finds herself wanting to listen to calmer music

when she was younger she would've loved bands like nirvana

now she likes to just plug her headphones in and lay down (its her way of escaping everything and taking a step back)

her and claire make playlists together 🫶

rebecca chambers:

can i real quick just say i love rebecca? okay thank you she is my girl

now idk if this is gonna be controversial but im gonna say it

she'd be a swiftie

she certainly doesn't enjoy taylors carbon emissions but she loves the music (her favorite album would be 1989 or lover)

she's also someone who uses a streaming platform instead of lugging around cds or something

carlos oliveira:

whore.

i just know this man is listening to songs like daddy's home by usher

he probably enjoys a lot of hip hop and rap

some of his favorite songs are captain save a hoe, california love, and it wasnt me

he's like if hey sexy lady by shaggy was a person

anyways just remember these are all my opinions and dont like scream at me for it yk. this is just a silly post. :)

[lyneyluv]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ．．． 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆！

— diluc & childe (separate).

— fluff, suggestive. archon quest spoilers. implied relationship. alcohol consumption (childe). ajax's is extensively longer ..... sry :P

the two of you sit before the heart of a warm fire, speakers above playing sweet, smooth jazz melodies that flood your senses. whatever language the woman sings her cacophony of accidentals in, it seems to make the fire envelop you completely, leaning further into the man seated next to you.

diluc slowly rises from his spot next to you, lifting his arm from where it hung around your shoulder. standing before you, his hand traces down your arm and finds itself in the palm of your own as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“come on,” he says in a hushed voice, nothing but warmth behind his gaze, “dance with me.”

you smile shyly under his frame and take his offer, prying yourself from the comfort of the plush couch to face your lover.

“‘luc, you know i have two left feet,” you huff out, almost too willingly giving in to his request.

he hums in response, his eyes lulling shut as his free hand finds your other and begins swaying along with the tempo surrounding you. he rests his head atop your own as you reel in the feeling of his breath against your scalp. you sway as the music continues with its piano and saxophone riffs, one song ending and another starting. you feel him smile against your hair before he removes himself from above you, taking your waist with his hand as he spins you in circles.

it’s intoxicating. you catch glimpses of his form when it comes into your view as you twirl around and around, the world seemingly stilling as you return to your place before him. your eyes rake over everything and all that he is: his broad shoulders, free from his heavy day coat, his chest adorning a simple white button-down rolled up at the sleeves, his hair cascading down his collarbones as it takes its best efforts to break free from the tie he haphazardly put it up with. you meet his vermillion eyes, a breath catching in your throat as you admire the stars that twinkle in his gaze.

suddenly, the track playing changes, switching to a more lively and upbeat song that lights up the room. a ghost of a laugh is lost on diluc’s tongue as you hop to turn the music up, the melodies getting impossibly louder as you pivot on your heels to sashay towards him, taking his hand and circling around him. the hit hats dance in your eyes as bursts of music play in the air around you. the essence of the song seeps into every pore on your skin as diluc’s scarred hands cup your jaw, his face coming so close your noses graze against one another. he drinks in the sight of you—the feeling of you—and sighs.

“you’re beautiful,” his eyes bore into yours as your arms snake around his torso, “i love you.”

．．．

childe never really plays music on his own, opting to listen only whenever you hit play. its not that he doesn't like it, he just can't seem to focus whenever there's something playing in the background. tonight was no different: the two of you were cleaning up the kitchen after a nice dinner when you decided it was too quiet, playing some easy listening jazz: specifically the kind you'd hear in a low-lit restaurant that serves food with way less sustenance on the plate than what you're paying for.

your hips sway as you spray and wipe the counters, gently humming along with a tune you've familiarized yourself with. your twirl around the wood floor, passing ajax every now and then as he catches you in the corner of his eye. the sultry sounds of the melodies passing through his senses compliments the half-empty bottle wine sitting on the countertop.

you pass him again but this time are stopped by his arm around your waist, pulling your back against his chest as he rocks back and forth with you. "what's got you so happy?" he questions as he hooks his chin around your shoulder, feathering light kisses down your neck, "was my cooking that good?" he teases. each peck leaves a searing hot train in their wake as a shiver runs through your spine.

you inhale, placing your hand in his hair as you play with the ginger tresses. "oh, absolutely," you exaggerate as you turn your head to kiss the corner of his mouth, "i have no idea what i'd do if i didn't have a beautiful boyfriend to cook for me so generously like you do."

you smile lovingly into his eyes as he turns your frame to face him, his hands staying on your body as they travel up and down your waist. "mm, right," he hums through a slight smirk and lays his forehead against yours.

looking up into and nearly getting lost in his endless ocean of a gaze, you place a kiss upon his lips and back away from him. his face instinctively chased your own before you spoke, "dance with me."

before he can even think of an answer, he follows you into the living room and takes your hand in his. looking up at you, he bows regally with and arm behind his back as he places a saccharine kiss upon your fingers—the ones he silently promises to soon decorate with a ring. his eyes shine as they catch the light radiating from the kitchen, crystal blue irises peering at you through his long lashes. he's stunning, you think, any thoughts you had running through your head haulting to a stop. dazzled and frozen in place by the prince of a man before you, you step into his arms.

it's nothing special; not a waltz nor tango, just the two of you swaying together in the dim light of your home. your head lays against his shoulder, drinking in as much of him as you humanly can within the constraints of staying awake. the wine in your system warms you from within and leaves a whirring buzz in your mind as you hold onto your grip of reality, ajax's hands roaming the expanse of your torso and the rhythm you fall into doing no good in helping your poor attempt of sanity.

you feel one of his hands coming up, lifting your chin to meet his eyes as you fall in love over and over again in the infinite depths of his gaze. his hand spans across your cheek as his thumb caresses it gently, eventually traveling down to press against your lips. his eyes flit between your features, from your eyes to the tip of your nose and down to your plush lips he traces with his finger. he reels in the way you feel within his grasp as the music playing becomes a soundtrack for the film of his love that plays before him, losing himself in his adoration as he finally leans in to indulge in you.

the kiss is searing hot as it mixes with the interchanging major and minor chords the piano plays surrounding you both. the singing continues above the saxophones and drums, yet all you can hear is the sweet melody of your shared embrace: birds chirping in jueyun karst, breeze whistling through the tall grass in windrise, the silence of the snow falling in snezhnaya, the glittering of the glowing grass in chinju forest—you hear it all through your shared embrace. the pace picks up as small gasps are heard over the music, ajax's hands finding their way underneath your shirt as they move across the expanse of your body leaving a lingering warmth in their path. your lips dance against one another in a sparkling duet as you feel yourself getting ever hotter from the invasion of your senses.

"jazz isn't so bad, hmm?" he chimes, smirking as he dips back into your lips.

©𝑙𝑦𝑛𝑒𝑦𝑙𝑢𝑣 ’24

[unformula1]

love at midnight (MV33/MV1 x Reader)

love at midnight (MV33/MV1 x Reader)

valentines day series - valentines’ day countdown: -1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ synopsis: you and Max attend an event, not for long though. “They’re spending a lot of money on you Max” You comment, chuckling as you do so. Max cocks up an eyebrow and lets out a scoff before stringing together his words. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ pairing: max verstappen x reader word count: 1329 a/n: i need fic ideas lol. send plz. masterlist ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I hate these, you know that.” Max whispers in your ear as you hold his hand and walk toward the room.

“C’mon! They’re celebrating you!” You roll your eyes and let out a soft sigh, “You can’t just no show!”

“Watch me.” Max taunts.

You playfully punch Max’s shoulder as both of you enter the room.

“Media’s going to be all over this…” He rolls his eyes, pulling you in closer.

Everyone is dressed in formal attire, suit and ties and all. They’re all holding wine glasses, making small talk with people around them. The sounds of glass clinking, laughter and swift footsteps by the servers are heard. 

The room is all decked out with tables and fancy tablecloth, soft jazz music playing in the background, a giant chandelier and the walls are plastered with fancy artwork or sculptures. 

“Just last for a few hours, then we can say I’m tired. Then we can go back.” You whisper to him.

He nods, acknowledging your gameplan. 

“Get ready for small talk.” You tell Max as both of you approach another couple. 

“Max!” The gentleman says, wrapping his arms around Max and pulling him in for a tight hug. You’re forced to let go of Max as he awkwardly returns the hug.

“You remember me?” The man says.

No. 

“Yes! Of course.” Max says, adding a small, pretty forced sounding, laugh.

“I’m so happy for you!” The man says, letting go of his presumed wife’s hands and firmly shaking Max’s hands.

The woman looks at you and flashes a polite smile and you return it. This is very uncomfortable, emphasis on very. She fiddles with her handbag as her presumed husband talks with Max. You tap your foot and look around the room as Max talks with the man.

“So, how are you doing?” The man continues. Max is clearly running out of things to say.

“I’m sorry.” You interject, “Max and I need to go get some drinks.” You smile at the man.

“Ah yes! Enjoy yourselves.” The man says and holds back onto his presumed wife’s hands and walks off.

“That was so much harder than it needed to be.” Max scoffs as you pull him away.

“What a douchebag.” You joke, pulling Max to the drinks section of the room.

The table is laid out with some of the fanciest tablecloths you have ever seen, it’s silky and smooth, but it’s pretty good quality too. You feel the tablecloth as Max pours himself a drink. 

“They’re spending a lot of money on you Max” You comment, chuckling as you do so.

Max cocks up an eyebrow and lets out a scoff before stringing together his words.

“I- uh, yea they do.” He replies, flushing slightly pink.

You raise an eyebrow and pour yourself a drink, holding onto it and walking off with Max.

“More small talk!” You point out. Max lets out a sigh and fakes a smile.

“Max!” Another man, who’s with a group of other men, says as he pulls Max in for an awkward hug.

Max lets out a lot of fake laughs in that conversation and even more awkward responses. He’s done this a million times yet he’s still so bad at it. While they talk, you swirl your drink around, taking sips here and there.

The men finally leave Max alone and he lets out a huge sigh, wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

You laugh at his predicament, patting him on the back.

“Are you laughing at my suffering?” He asks, feigning offence.

“It’s pretty funny…” You chuckle, “and your fake laugh sounds hot.” 

“Really-” Max scoffs, “Because it really shouldn’t.” 

You pat him on the back and take another sip of your drink. 

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

A painful hour passes and it’s nearing 11pm at this point. It’s getting tiring for both Max and you. You don’t know how many ‘oh I’m doing great’s you have left in you and how many more times you can awkwardly stand there as people make conversation with Max. 

If you were being honest, Max had it worse. His social battery was getting more and more drained by the minute; every conversation he had felt more and more dreadful. His fake laughs were becoming more and more painful to listen to and his brain felt like shutting down at any second.

He let out a very long sigh, followed by a longer groan. He rubbed his forehead and leaned onto you. You made a few unintelligible noises too.

After a while, you yawned as Max finished up another conversation. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can last.” Max groans.

“Pretty long apparently.” You joke while adjusting your outfit for the one hundredth time.

He gives you a glance, “You are not funny.” 

You smile back at him and he returns a pretty weak one.

“Oh well!” You say, taking his drink and yours, placing them on a spare spot in the table before dragging Max away.

It catches him off guard and he takes a few seconds to process what you’re doing, looking back at the drinks as he walks off.

“What-” He says as you pull him.

“We’re leaving.” You say, politely smiling at the people you walk past.

Max pulls you in closer as he says goodbye to a few important people, using the ‘they’re tired’ excuse.

Both of you walk out the door and take a huge breath of fresh air, walking toward the car park. You open the door and get into the passenger's side. Max looks at you and lets out another groan.

“Really…” He says, dragging the word, “Can’t you drive?” 

He pouts adorably. You keep your cool and look back at him emotionlessly.

“Please…” He says, pouting more and dragging the words like a little child.

You fold.

You step out the passengers side, which earns you a small cheer from Max, who quickly gets into the seat before you change your mind. You get into the driver’s seat and start the car.

“Buckle up Maxie.” You say, “You’re the passenger princess now.”

He chuckles at your comment and turns on the radio.

You start the car and drive off toward your apartment. The ride is pretty long and eventually Max falls asleep in the seat. You’re tempted to do something funny to wake him up but you resist. 

Eventually the clock strikes midnight and the moon is bright in the dark sky. You drive on the nearly empty roads, the only lights still on being the streetlights. 

Max wakes up from his slumber and looks drowsily out the window, “We’re not home yet?” 

He whines and leans back into his chair.

“Stop complaining…” You smile and chuckle.

Sometimes Max can be assertive and dominant; then there are other times where he’s comparable to a child. He whines more and kicks his feet out.

“You’re adorable.” You comment which makes his face brighten up and he smiles widely at you.

He plants a kiss on your cheek and gives you a mischievous looking smile. You shake your head while a small smile escapes. 

His lips touch your cheek again and they’re ever so perfect. They make your cheeks feel amazing, it makes you feel on cloud nine. Just you and Max.

He takes advantage of the fact that you can’t do much back to him since you’re focused on driving and plants another kiss, this time closer to your neck.

Suddenly, you halt to a stop and pull over, which causes Max to get a little surprised. He glances in your direction as you lean over to kiss him on the forehead. He blushes red and looks away. 

Before he knows it, you plant another kiss on his cheek, then another on his neck. His face is burning and you know it. 

“Stop. I get it.” He whines.

“Do you not like it?” You pout at him.

“No- I love it.” He says.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”