#turns out there was a time in my life where i did know how to make art. i guess i could nowadays too? if i just had the courage to try

[mickyschumacher]

[I THINK HE KNOWS!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a fake and curated date in italy on valentine's day is no one's idea of fun except a publicist’s. but all it does it take a walk around monza to know the difference between what's real and what's fake.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, poor humour, fake dating trope, reader is a graduate uni student, lando being a dream boyfriend, kinda suggestive at the end, mentions of horrible fans and privacy invaded, me knowing nothing about italy let alone lombardy at the end as well.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3.3k

𝐀/𝐍: third fic of my series! i really loved writing this one! fake dating is always such a hit or miss to write about but in this case, it was a lot easier. hope you enjoyed it!♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Life’s a funny thing really. Full of mistakes leaving you wondering how you ever got there.  

And as you sat on a bench, looking over at the view of Lake Como in Lombardy, Italy, with ‘hidden’ paparazzi down the street, you began wondering the exact same thing.  

“How long do you think they’ll be here?” You queried, turning your body to face Lando.  

Lando tilted his head, resting his cheek in his hand as he leaned on the top of the bench. His blue eyes briefly raked over you and then where the paparazzi hid. He looked over at his watch. “Give or take twenty minutes. They’ll probably be hungry for actual food soon.”  

You withheld your sigh. How did you get here? Time sure had flown as seven months ago you were just a graduating university student with loan after loan on her shoulders. The very student who still decided to have a sweet treat after handing in her assignment and headed to your favourite cafe. The very student who bumped into Lando Norris and had her bracelet snag on the sleeve of his jacket, landing you in a compromising position as you tried to take it out.  

The very student who woke up the next day with her entire privacy invaded as ‘fans’ hunted you online and seemingly decided not only were you Lando’s girlfriend but the ‘perfect match’. 

That was you.  

Mere hours later, you had Lando’s publicist and underlings knocking at your door with a comprehensive contract and a promise to pay your student loans and pay you. You didn’t think it would last this long. Three months tops... surely. 

So, you signed it. A contract declaring that you were fake dating Lando Norris.  

They said it would help Lando’s image. And help it did. Lando had never looked better to his sponsors. Apparently dating a university graduate makes you look more polished and mature, enough to at least secure a dozen contracts. Most fans seemed to love you. Even the driver’s had taken a liking to you.  

But to you, Lando, and a handful of selectively picked people, this was all fake.  

Every decision was carefully made. The matching jewellery, what he said, what you posted, where you met, the hugs, the arms around the waist, the staring, the kisses... 

And six months later, here you were. On a curated date with the Lando Norris at Lake Como on Valentine’s Day – the third day of your trip. You had both compromised, agreeing to each make a list of things so do in Lombardy, two of which had to be a couple’s activity for the sake of it.  

You had completed most of both of your lists. A visit to Teatro Alla Scala, an opera theatre (your idea, obviously). A guided tour Villa Del Balbianello because Lando needed to see some more real-life scenes of Star Wars (mostly ended up taking photos of you the entire time). An agreed night out from the both of you to Navigli to consume ‘local food.’  

Lando, who desperately wanted to have walk around Lake Como, was sorely disappointed when he spotted the paparazzi hiding around the corner. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, watching your fingers trail the cracks in the wooden bench.  

“It’s okay,” you assured. “It’ll be over soon anyways.” 

Lando knew you were talking about the paparazzi. But he couldn’t help but think about your relationship with him.  

That day at the cafe... the only reason people thought you two were in a relationship wasn’t just because you were barely a centimetre apart trying to remove your bracelet but in all the photos people had captured, Lando was staring at you like it was love at first sight.  

And before he knew it, everything had gone down. The fans, his publicist, the media... it was a shitshow. And then you showed up two days later having signed a contract to be his fake girlfriend.  

Lando hated it. Fuck, he hated it so much. He hated that he dragged you into this. He hated that every moment with you was planned. And he especially hated that he couldn’t like you openly. Not with you thinking it was fake.  

Lando looked down back at his watch. He sighed, leg beginning to shake out of impatience. 

You raised a brow. Naturally, you put a hand on his arm. “Lando... is everything okay?” 

Lando flickered his eyes to your hand and back to your face. He moved his arm from your grasp, grabbing your hand instead. “Come on. We’re leaving,” he stated.  

Your eyes widened as he stood up, bringing you up with him. “W-What? Lan–we’re supposed to leave in thirty minutes,” you murmured quietly, leaving only him to hear your voice.  

“I don’t care,” he started, increasing his walking pace. “Whatever you do... just hold on to me, okay?” 

You furrowed your brows. “Lando, what are-” 

Abruptly Lando paused in his steps. He turned to you, blue eyes staring hard back at you. “Do you trust me?” 

“I–” 

“Do you trust me? Yes, or no?” He repeated softly. 

You gulped nervously, unable to look away from him. “Yes.” 

A look of relief washed over his face as he nodded. “Good. Then hold on. And don’t let go.” 

“Lando, I still don’t get what you–MEAN!” You yelped as Lando began running in no particular direction. You tightened your grasp on his hand while your legs struggled to catch up to him. The problems of having an athlete boyfriend.  

The wind felt serene. The sun was oddly warm despite it being the winter season. It was as though spring was trying to come a little early. All the early architecture you had seen on the way here was beginning to blur into one uniform colour. You weren’t sure where you were going or why but all you knew was that you were going way too fast.  

“Lando! I swear to God, if you get us killed–” 

“You said you trusted me,” Lando yelled back, cautiously looking over his shoulder. He could see the paparazzi struggling to follow the both of you.  

You panted, pushing your legs to keep up. “I do! Breaking into a sprint all of a sudden with no idea in mind, however, begs a slightly different answer.” 

Lando couldn’t help but laugh over the air and God, did you love it. You had heard of people saying that a laugh could so like music to one’s ears. You never understood it. It was a laugh. A reaction. How could it be musical? But in that moment, you understood. It wasn’t just the laugh. It required the context, the smile, the thought... and only then did it become an orchestrated musical masterpiece.  

Another yelp left your mouth as Lando pulled you to the side, situating yourselves in an empty shaded alleyway. You rested your back as comfortably as you could against the stone while Lando stood in front of you, hand still wrapped around yours.  

You both waited quietly. Turning your head slightly, you could see a small flock of black clothed paparazzi walk by, all ushering and yelling, mystified to how you both had disappeared.  

“Okay,” you swallowed hard, turning back to Lando. “I think they’re...” You seem to have lost your ability to speak as you found Lando staring at you. It had been a common occurrence within the past few months and it never got any easier. “They’re gone,” you confirmed, chest heaving.  

“You should probably start joining me on my workouts,” he mumbled, eyes flickering over you again, absorbing the sight of the thin sheet of sweat across your skin.  

You narrowed your eyes, moving your hand from his grasp to hit him with the side of your bag. A groan fell from his lips. “Ow!” He yelled, making you clasp a hand over his mouth. Your head darted to the side, checking whether anyone heard him.  

“What was that for?” He queried after you removed your hand from his mouth.  

“For being an asshole. And for making me run. Which reminds me... why did you make us run?” You queried with a more than unhappy tone.  

Lando grinned. “We still have one thing on your list to do.” 

You furrowed your brows. “I didn’t add anything else.” 

Lando’s hand rummaged through the pocket of his shorts, taking out a familiar piece of paper – the very one you had written all your activities on. And right at the bottom was an activity you thought you tore off.  

Your eyes widened, hand darting out to grab the piece of paper but Lando was too quick. “Nuh-uh,” he tutted, holding the paper close to him. “I’m getting this framed.” 

You skin burned at his words. You clearly remembered what you wrote.  

Walk the Monza track with Lando (and preferably some gelato). 

“I was supposed to take that off,” you mumbled.  

Lando frowned. “You don’t want to do it? Or did you not want to do it with me?” 

You blinked blankly at Lando. “Are you stupid? Did you read the same thing I did? Obviously with you. I just... we’ll probably get mobbed so it’s a stupid idea.” 

Lando understood what you meant. Visiting in Italy for two days now had proven to be incredibly difficult with a fan asking for a photo every other minute. He was appreciative that you were so understanding but he felt awful. 

“Yeah... I mean it would be crazy if you had a boyfriend who could rent out the entire track for a couple of hours,” Lando yawned, stretching his arms nonchalantly.  

Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see your mouth fall open. “Lando... you didn’t.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand once again. “I did. Now come on. We’re going to be late!”  

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You blinked blankly once you arrived to the empty Monza track. You had preoccupied yourself in the car ride here, pointing out all the interesting things you were seeing as Lando drove to the track. You were going to fall asleep if you hadn’t arrived there any earlier. But now that you were... you didn’t think your eyes could get any wider.  

“Is that a...” You turned to Lando with twinkling eyes.  

“Just go pick your flavour,” he narrowed his eyes.  

A squeal fell from your lips and before you knew it, you were hugging Lando tightly. You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, happily accepting your hug. “Thank you,” you murmured next to his ear.  

Lando smiled calmly despite his heart beat pounding in his ears. He was sure he could stay like this forever if he could. “You’re welcome. I... It’s so much less than what you deserve, but it’s all I could think to do given the... circumstances.”  

You stared at the pavement of the track heavily, Lando’s words swirling around your head. Right... the circumstances. You cleared your throat, pulling away from him even though you could’ve sworn you felt him tighten his grasp momentarily.  

“Come on. Pick your flavour or I’m just going to get you all chocolate,” you called out, waking over to the gelato cart he had hired. 

Lando sighed, briefly making a disgusted expression. He followed after you with a small smile. Despite the wind, he could still smell you on him.  

You greeted the cart owner, excitedly eyeing all the gelato flavours. There were so many to choose from... how were you ever going to pick? “Can I get...” 

“She’ll get mango, chocolate, raspberry, and lemon in a cup,” Lando finished, hovering behind you.  

You gaped, snapping your head to Lando. “How did you know?” 

“Better question is,” Lando started, resting his mouth right above your shoulder and near your ear, “why wouldn’t I?” 

You shivered at his words, cheeks burning at the small grin playing on his lips. “I’m not sharing any of mine,” you muttered, moving your eyes to the gelato.  

Lando pouted teasingly. “Please,” he sung, tilting his head so you could see him blink his eyes rapidly. 

You gulped, taking a step away before you succumbed to his wishes. “I think I’m going to throw up.” 

Lando gasped. “So rude!” 

You chuckled taking the cup of gelato while thanking the owner. Lando narrowed his eyes at you, ordering his own combination of pistachio, melon, and orange.  

You made a face at his cup as he walked towards you. “There is something so wrong with you.” 

Lando rolled his eyes, nudging you forwards to the entrance of the track. “Just be quiet and walk.” 

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

You and Lando walked comfortably at your own pace around the track, eating your gelato while he explained parts of the track or its history.  

“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, finishing your spoonful of raspberry, “Curva Parabolica makes me feel sick. Every time it came on the TV, I thought I was going to throw up.” 

Lando raised a brow, resting his spoon in his cup. “I thought you didn’t watch them?” 

It was always Lando’s assumption you didn’t watch the races. Even when you came to them, if there was a camera, you’d flash a smile, otherwise there was no other reason to be there. You were at the podiums because you had to be, not because you wanted to be. 

You snorted, looking at him incredulously. “Of course, I watch them. Why wouldn’t I? You’re freaking racing! I’m always so proud of you, no matter where or how you finish. You don’t see me next your mum and dad, cheering you on at the end of the race?” 

Of course he did. You were the first person he would look for at a race. And if you weren’t there, he’d look at the camera in hopes you were watching. And all this time... you had been.  

Lando’s mouth dried. “I just thought...” 

You looked at his face and you could read his mind. “You thought it was fake.” 

He blinked, regret washing over his face. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he apologised.  

You took a spoonful of your mango gelato and eyeing his mournful expression. “It’s okay. If there’s one thing you should know, my proudness and happiness for you isn’t fake. Even if this whole thing is.” 

And there it was again. The bitter reminder that this entire relationship was fake. That perhaps the only real thing in your relationship was how you met.  

But this was real. 

This – the track, the gelato, the conversation – this was real.  

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, moving his eyes to the rest of the track as he ate large soon of his melon gelato. He exhaled slowly, trying to remember where he was once again. “Okay... pop quiz! Who was Variante Ascari named after?” 

You cleared your throat, pulling on a thoughtful expression. “Um Al.. Alberto Ascari? The Italian driver, right?” 

“Thank God someone’s been paying attention,” he joked as you neared the named turn.  

You rolled your eyes. “I should thank Fewtrell for that one. Remember that stream he made us join?” 

“Yeah,” Lando laughed softly, all the memories hitting him at once. It was really sweet of Max actually. It was a time when some ‘fans’ were being particularly awful to you. Saying you were using Lando for fame because you barely knew anything about the sport.  

Max then created a poorly made quiz about Formula 1 and got you and Lando to join. Max and Lando pretended not to know much so you were all in the same boat. And any time the right answer was mention, Lando would occasionally squeeze your leg to give you a clue. The stream was flooded with some of the kindest comments, telling you to ignore everyone else and just focus on your health and your relationship with Lando.  

It was one of the moments where you realised how good of a friend Max was. Lando was lucky to have someone who cared for him that much.  

Lando looked down at his cup and let out a dramatic sigh. 

You didn’t even need to bat an eye towards. “I told you I'm not sharing,” you reminded, quickening your pace.  

It didn’t take long for him to catch up. “Please, please. I can see you have like two spoons of mango and lemon. Come on. Sharing is caring.” 

“No–Lando! Stop following me!”  

All of a sudden, you and Lando were running again. But this time, you weren’t worried about some paparazzi or the destination. It was just you and Lando.  

“No offense, but you are not outrunning me,” Lando called out from behind you, running with what you were pretty sure was a smug grin. 

You huffed, trying to push your legs further but you could feel him hovering. You came to an abrupt halt. “You’re right. I can’t outrun you,” you smiled, turning to him. “But I can out-eat you.” 

Lando’s grin dropped as you combined the two flavours of gelato and plopped them in your mouth. He stood there, dumbfounded while you happily ate the rest.  

You replicated his smug grin from earlier and poked your tongue out. “All finished. Sorry,” you shrugged with no sound of an apology hidden in your voice.  

Lando swallowed hard, eyes fixated on your mouth. A step closer to you, his body was pressed on yours. His hand travelled up your neck, the other hand resting on your waist to pull you closer.  

You inhaled slowly, hairs on your body standing straight. You tried meeting his eyes but all you could see was him focus on your lips. Instinctively, your hand fell to his arm around your waist, fastening yourself to him.  

“I... I think I can still taste it,” he said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t sure if he could even recognise himself. 

“Lando... I–we're not on the clock,” you whispered, unwilling to untangle yourself from his grasp.  

“I don’t care.” 

In the blink of an eye, Lando’s lips were smashed against yours and fuck, his lips were soft and pillowy as usual. Your stomach churned upon feeling Lando pushing you closer to him, if that were possible. His fingers were cold against your skin, creeping under the hem of your shirt to rub tingling circles onto your skin.  

A breathy gasp fell from your lips while goosebumps littered your skin. Lando took advantage of this, groaning against your lips as he darted his tongue to explore your mouth. He could feel himself press into you, rubbing his hard-on against you.  

You think now would be an appropriate time to self-implode. You had all the signs. Burning skin, dizziness, and the lost ability to breathe. 

Lando almost buckled under your touch as your fingers scoured his taut torso, lingering dangerously close to his v-line. 

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. His hands had found themselves holding yours, preventing you from undoing him any further. His chest heaved, rising up and down while he stared at your swollen lips and moved his eyes to meet yours.  

“I want this to be real,” he pleaded, moving your hand to his face. “Please.” 

“Lando,” you started but he didn’t want to hear it.  

He shook his head. “I think I’m falling in love with you. I think I have been since we first met,” he sighed out, collecting himself. “I don’t want to do this when it’s fake. I want to be with you because what I feel is real. Because you drive me crazy and I can’t imagine a future without you.” 

You blinked, feeling his hand trail over yours as you caressed his face. Your heart raced loudly in your ears. How were you supposed to respond to that? “I...” 

“Please say something. Anything,” he begged, blue eyes heavily staring down at you. 

“As long as you promise to walk with me on every track. Oh, and get me gelato.” 

Lando let out the biggest sigh of relief, almost collapsing against your hand. His head dipped down, pressing his lips against you once again, taking you into a long kiss. He sighed, pulling away.  

His arms fell around your waist as he grinned at you. “I promise.” 

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 

[hitlikehammers]

POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[verstappenverse]

oh i think i have a request 🤭 maybe max starts to date reader cause of a bet but he ends up actually falling in love with her…kinda angst but maybe fluffy and happy ending as well?

The Bet and The Fall

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max starts dating you on a bet never expecting to fall for you, but as your relationship grows he must confront the fallout of his careless gamble.

4k words / Masterlist

You never thought the end of your year would involve Max Verstappen.

The first time you saw him, he’d been exactly what you expected. Quick wit, easy smirk, and just enough arrogance to carry the weight of his success. He’d walked into the bar with a confidence that commanded attention, his laughter spilling into the room like it belonged there. And maybe it did.

You didn’t think much of him then. He was just another face, another fleeting encounter on a night out. But fate or something cruelly ironic had other plans.

It started with an accident, a spill of your drink when you turned too quickly, bumping straight into him. His reflexes were sharp, of course, the glass never hit the ground.

"Smooth," he’d said, voice tinged with amusement as he set the glass down.

You’d laughed it off, brushing away your embarrassment. "Thanks for the save. You’re faster off track than I thought."

That had earned a raised brow and a crooked grin. "You know who I am?"

"I’m not living under a rock."

Max shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t look like the type who goes to parties like this.”

Your laugh was genuine, surprising even yourself. “And what does that mean exactly?”

"Nothing bad." he said, watching you closely. "But I’m good at reading people."

"And what do you read from me?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… you seem like you’re trying to figure out how you ended up here.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted, glancing around the room. “I’m here because my friend insisted. Apparently I need to ‘live a little.’”

Max’s smile widened, and there was something disarming about it, “And are you? Living a little?”

You shrugged, feeling oddly at ease despite the absurdity of the situation. “I guess I am now.”

He’d offered to replace your drink, and you’d let him, thinking it was nothing more than a kind gesture. He shifted slightly closer, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you talked.

The conversation flowed more easily than you expected. Max was charming in a way that felt unpolished, his humour dry and his smile boyish despite the confidence he carried. He asked questions about you, what you did, where you were from, and he actually seemed interested in your answers.

At some point, you forgot who he was. You forgot that you were talking to someone whose life was splashed across headlines and social media. And when your best friend eventually came to drag you away, Max had looked genuinely disappointed.

When he asked for your number as you were standing up to leave, you hesitated.

"I don’t usually do this," you admitted, handing him your phone anyway.

"I don’t either," he replied, though the glint in his eyes made you doubt that.

Still, he’d texted you the next day and slowly things started to unfold.

What you didn’t know at the time was that across the room someone had been watching the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on their face.

Max had been sitting at a table with his friends earlier that night, a drink in his hand and an argument brewing. It wasn’t unusual competitive personalities clashed even off the track. But tonight Daniel had been relentless, poking at Max’s habits, his so-called inability to "settle down."

"You don’t even know how to date properly," Daniel joked. "I bet you wouldn’t last two weeks with a normal girl."

Max rolled his eyes. "And what does that even mean?"

"It means," Daniel said, grin widening, "you’re all about control. You don’t let anyone in unless you’ve already decided it’s worth your time. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the spontaneity?"

Max scoffed. "You’re talking like I don’t know how to have a real relationship."

"Because you don’t," Daniel shot back, laughing. "Prove me wrong. Bet you wouldn’t last a month with someone who isn’t already part of your world. No models, no influencers, no one born into racing. A normal person. You’d combust."

Max leaned back, unimpressed. "I could date anyone I wanted."

Daniel’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "Alright, Verstappen. Prove it." He gestured toward the bar, where you stood unaware of their gaze. "Her. One month. Bet you can’t do it."

Max followed Daniel’s line of sight, lips twitching as he took you in. You were laughing at something a friend had said, head tossed back, easy and unguarded. There was no designer handbag, no polished effort to impress.

Max smirked, arrogance slipping easily into his voice. "Easy."

"Oh, is it?" Daniel teased. "She doesn’t look like the type to fall for your usual tricks mate."

"She’ll fall," Max said, confidence unwavering. "They always do."

Daniel arched an eyebrow. "Alright then." He held out his hand. "If you pull it off drinks are on me for the rest of the year."

Max clasped Daniel’s hand without hesitation. "Deal."

What he didn’t anticipate was how easy it would be to approach you or how different you would be from what he expected. When he wandered over to the bar, leaning casually against the counter, he didn’t have to try hard to strike up a conversation. You were warm, quick-witted, and entirely uninterested in the weight of his name.

You didn’t look at him like he was Max Verstappen, Formula 1 World Champion. You looked at him like he was just a guy who spilled your drink and owed you a new one. It caught him off guard, that refreshing lack of pre-tense.

Max had meant for it to be a game, a challenge to prove his point. What he didn’t realise then was that he’d just placed a bet against his own heart. And for the first time in his life, he was about to lose.

Looking back, you’d wonder if you should have noticed the cracks sooner.

Everything felt perfect. Max was attentive, charming, and surprisingly easy to talk to. He wasn’t just the Max Verstappen the world saw he was softer with you, more thoughtful. He’d remember small details, how you liked your coffee, the book you were reading, the song stuck in your head.

He made you laugh too, really laugh, the kind that bubbled up unexpectedly, catching you off guard, leaving your cheeks aching and your stomach fluttering. And when he kissed you for the first time his hands cradled your face, careful and deliberate, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t gentle enough. There was something almost reverent about the way he touched you, like he was holding something fragile, something precious, something he wasn’t sure he deserved but wasn’t willing to let go of either, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw, you realised something terrifying.

You had fallen fast, and you had fallen hard.

What you didn’t know was that Max hadn’t expected to fall at all.

A month came and went, but by then Max wasn’t counting anymore. The bet was long forgotten, buried under the weight of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and the way your laugh seemed to echo in his mind long after you were gone.

At first, it was easier to ignore the way something shifted in his chest whenever you were around, the way his mind drifted to you even in moments when he should have been focused. He told himself it was just intrigue, a fleeting distraction that would fade once the bet was over. But then, moment by moment, the reality became impossible to ignore.

It was the way you laughed, unrestrained, unselfconscious. The kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, infectious and full of life. The way you talked with your hands, so animated and expressive that he found so captivating. The way you challenged him, never intimidated by his sharp edges or his reputation, meeting him head-on with quick wit, making him feel like he didn’t have to be Verstappen, the calculated driver, the public figure, with you he could just be Max.

He fell without realising it, like slipping into a warm bath, slow, comforting, inevitable.

The tipping point came on what should have been a regular, quiet evening at your place. You’d insisted on cooking dinner for him brushing off his protests about how he could just order something instead. The kitchen was chaos, vegetables half-chopped, sauce simmering too quickly, flour dusting your shirt, but you didn’t seem to care. You were too busy laughing at yourself, muttering about how you were definitely not cut out for MasterChef.

“Come on Verstappen,” you teased, tossing him an apron. “You can’t be a world champion and not know how to chop an onion.”

Max caught the apron midair, a mock look of horror on his face. “I don’t think that’s in the championship requirements.”

“Well it’s in mine,” you quipped, tying your own apron behind your back. “Get chopping.”

Max leaned against the counter, watching you with an expression that would have given him away in an instant if you’d turned to look at him.

“You’re staring,” you teased after a while.

He smirked. “Maybe I like what I’m seeing.”

You rolled your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

It was a simple moment, but it lodged itself in Max’s chest like a permanent fixture. He knew then it wasn’t just intrigue or infatuation, he loved you. And that terrified him.

The closer you got, the harder it became for him to bury the truth. He tried telling himself it didn’t matter, the bet had been stupid, something meaningless that had quickly been replaced by something real. But every time he saw the trust in your eyes, every time you looked at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to you, the guilt churned in his stomach.

There were nights he barely slept, lying awake in bed with the weight of it pressing down on him. What if you found out? What if you looked at him with disgust, walked away without giving him the chance to explain? He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t lose you.

Every moment with you, big or small, was another thread tying him closer to you. He didn’t know how it happened so fast, but he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. You were his home, his safe place, and he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

One evening, the two of you sat curled up on the couch in his Monaco apartment, a movie playing in the background that neither of you was paying much attention to. You rested your head on his chest, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, his heart aching with how perfect it felt.

But then you spoke. “You’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

The words made his chest tighten. You always noticed. Even the smallest shifts in his mood never escaped your attention.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face. “Are you sure? You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

The guilt surged, and for a fleeting moment, he considered telling you. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but then he imagined the way your expression would change, the way you’d pull away from him, he couldn’t bear it.

Instead he leaned down to kiss you hoping it would be enough to distract you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair, and for a moment he let himself believe it was enough.

“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and certain.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

He adjusted the blanket over you and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some sleep liefje.”

Max buried the secret deeper after that night, convincing himself that it was better this way. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of it, and he couldn’t risk losing you.

But the guilt didn’t go away. It lingered like a shadow, growing heavier with every passing day. He started overcompensating, showering you with affection, he’d buy you flowers every day, plan spontaneous dates, and do anything he could to keep you happy.

And it worked. You were happy. You loved him. And Max loved you so much it hurt.

The fear of losing you consumed him. It drove him to be better, to be the man you deserved, but it also ate away at him. He avoided certain conversations, terrified that you’d somehow stumble upon the truth. He cut Daniel off sharply whenever he brought up the bet, even if you were nowhere near, his tone cold and final.

“Don’t,” he snapped when Daniel jokingly mentioned it in passing. “It’s not funny.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender, the mere mention of the bet made Max’s chest tighten, the fear creeping back in. He couldn’t let you find out because Max knew one thing with absolute certainty, if you ever did he’d lose you.

No matter how hard he tried the fallout was inevitable.

The night had started out like any other, one of those glitzy, over-the-top events Max had to attend where champagne flowed like water and conversations were laced with artificial charm. You had never particularly liked these parties, but for Max you endured them.

Maybe that’s why you had stepped outside. The ballroom was too loud, too stifling, too full of people who smiled too widely and spoke in half-truths. You had wanted air, a moment to breathe away from it all, and then you heard it.

Max’s voice, unmistakable even in the distance, low and edged with something uncharacteristically uneasy. You followed it instinctively, your heels clicking against the marble floors as you rounded the corner toward the balcony. You weren’t eavesdropping, at least that wasn’t the intention but something in his tone made you pause just before stepping into view.

"I didn’t think it’d go this far," Max said, his voice quiet with exasperation. "It was a stupid bet Daniel. A fucking drunk, meaningless bet. And now I—now she—”

His words cut off abruptly like he couldn't even bring himself to say it out loud, but the damage was already done.

Your heart stopped.

The world seemed to tilt under your feet, the music and laughter from the party fading into white noise. Bet. The word hit you like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

You didn’t hear the rest. You didn’t need to.

A choked breath escaped your lips before you could stop it, and that tiny sound was enough to break whatever bubble of secrecy Max had been operating in. His head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in alarm as he registered your presence.

"Shit," he muttered, his entire body tensing.

You didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet were already moving, the panic clawing at your throat as you turned on your heel and pushed past the doors leading inside. You needed to get out.

"Wait—"

Max was already chasing after you, shoving past Daniel, who muttered a quiet curse calling out for Max as he realised what had just happened, but Max didn’t hear him, or maybe he didn’t care. His focus was on you weaving through the crowd as you dodged between people your vision blurred with tears.

When Max found you, you were already halfway out the entrance.

"Wait," he called, his voice raw with panic. "Please just listen it's not what you think—"

"Don’t," you bit out, whirling to face him. "Don’t insult me by pretending this wasn’t exactly what it looks like."

His face crumpled, "It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

"Then what was it supposed to be Max?" Your voice shook, the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. "A joke? Something to laugh about with your friends? A game to pass the time until you got bored?"

"No," he said stepping forward, hands reaching for you like he could fix this if he just got close enough. "At first-when we first met I…it doesn’t matter, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen-"

"But it did," you cut him off, voice breaking under the weight of it all. "And you let it happen. You let me believe in this, in you, while you knew—"

"I fell for you too," he rasped, his desperation tangible. "I swear to god, I did. And now I can't—" His breath hitched, words failing him. "I can’t imagine my life without you."

"Stop," you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You don’t get to say that. Not now. Not when this," you gestured between you, "was built on a lie."

His wiped away his own tear that had fallen. "But we were happy, that was real." he pleaded, voice breaking. "I tried so fucking hard to make you happy everyday, to make everything perfect. Doesn’t that count for something?"

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as fresh pain sliced through you. "No, Max. It doesn’t. Because it was never real. You don’t get to build something on a lie and then act like the good parts outweigh the truth."

He reached for you again, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling impossibly vast.

"I can't do this, Max. I can't be with someone who—" Your voice faltered. "Someone who made me love them knowing it was never real."

"It is real, I swear I lov-" he pleaded, but you just turned away.

And this time, when you walked away, you didn't look back.

Max tried everything to win you back. Texts, calls, presents, even showing up at your door unannounced. But you ignored him, too hurt to entertain the idea of forgiveness. It wasn’t until over a month later that he finally got through to you.

A knock at your door interrupted the quiet of your evening. You weren’t expecting anyone. And when you peeked through the peephole, your stomach twisted. Max, again.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the lock, but before you could turn away his voice came through the door, muffled but unmistakably determined.

"I’m not leaving until you talk to me."

You sighed, pressing your forehead against the wood. A couple of weeks ago you would have let him sit there all night. Now, all you felt was confused. But… you unlocked it, pulling it open just enough that you could stand in the door.

"Max—"

"Wait," he cut in gently, his eyes desperate. "Please. Just let me say this."

"I messed up," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I know I did. And part of me wishes I could go back and never agree to the stupid bet, to stop it before it ever started." He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. "But I can’t. And the truth is… I don’t know if I’d want to."

You reached for the door, but he pressed on.

"Because the bet led me to you. And I don’t regret that. I regret lying. I regret hurting you. But I could never regret you." His voice broke slightly. "I love you. Not because of some stupid decision, but because of who you are."

He took a step closer to the door careful, like he knew he was balancing on a knife’s edge.

"Because of the way you ramble when you're excited. The way you always text me when you see something that reminds you of me, no matter how small. The way you—" He let out a shaky breath. "The way you make me feel like I've finally found something that matters more than everything I ever thought I wanted”

"I know I don’t deserve another chance," he continued, voice softer now. "But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m not the guy who made that bet. I’m the guy who loves you. And I swear, I will never stop trying to be better for you."

Silence wrapped around you both. You swallowed hard, fighting against the warmth creeping into the cracks he had just reopened. "You had months Max. Months to tell me the truth. And you didn’t. You let me find out like that…why?”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a long moment he just stared at the ground, his breath coming uneven.

"Because I was scared," he admitted, "scared that if I told you, I’d lose you. That you’d look at me like you did that night, like I was just a mistake you regretted. I kept telling myself I’d find the right time, that I’d make it up to you before you ever had to know, and I fell for you, really fell, and suddenly telling you felt like handing you a reason to walk away."

For all the ways you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the betrayal, there was something devastating about the way he said it.

"So you lied instead," you murmured.

His lips pressed together, his head bowing slightly. "I did. And it was the worst decision I’ve ever made." His eyes lifted back to yours, full of something desperate. "But I swear to you, losing you showed me exactly what kind of man I never want to be again."

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whispered.

Max nodded, no trace of frustration, just quiet determination. "I’ll earn it," he vowed. "No matter how long it takes."

Your gaze flickered to the flowers in his hands. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out, fingertips brushing against his as you took them.

It wasn’t a yes. Not yet.

But it wasn’t a no, either.

And the way his lips parted slightly, the hope in his eyes you knew he’d wait for as long as you needed. A beat passed before you sighed and pushed the door open wider.

"Come in, just for a bit."

He paused, like he was afraid to move too fast, but the second you stepped back he followed slipping inside. You set the flowers down on the counter, fingers brushing over the petals as you tried to steady yourself.

"You’ve been eating right?" he asked a flicker of that familiar concern in his expression.

You huffed a small, reluctant laugh. "Seriously? That’s your first question after all that?"

Max shrugged, tentative in his smile. "I’ve been worried."

You rolled your eyes, but your chest ached in a way you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge in weeks. You had missed him, his presence, his quiet care, the way he always paid attention to the little things.

"Yes, I’ve been eating," you said, shifting your weight awkwardly.

"Good." He nodded, then hesitated. "Can I—sit?"

You hesitated to, then gave him a small nod. "Yeah. Just… don’t push your luck."

Max smiled at that, he walked over to the couch sitting at the far end, after a moment you sat down to, tucking your legs beneath you. Neither of you spoke at first. The air still felt heavy, but not unbearable. Max rubbed his palms over his thighs, glancing at you before looking away again.

"This is weird," you admitted.

"Yeah," he agreed, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "But not bad, right?"

You exhaled, staring down at your hands. "Not bad."

His grin widened, "Let’s order something, whatever you want.” his voice dropped, teasing. "Just don’t steal my fries."

"Who says I’d want your fries?" you murmured.

Max smirked. "You always want my fries."

You huffed dramatically, turning your attention back to your phone. "Fine. I’ll order my own. Happy?"

"Not yet," he murmured, the teasing edge in his voice softening into something else. "But I’m getting there."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but the warmth creeping into your chest was impossible to ignore. No, it wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But later when Max stole a fry from your box, grinning at you like he hadn’t just started a war you realised it was a start, a real one.

[reiding-writing]

cold!reader gets a better job offer in a different department and ends up not taking it? (she’ll never admit it but she just doesn’t want to leave the team and Spencer) 💞

NO, THANKS — SPENCER REID!

you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime, but you don’t want it. you’re comfortable where you are.

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.8k | ??? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — i finished the valentines fic 🤭🤭

“I appreciate the offer, but my answer is no.”

Your voice is steady, devoid of hesitation, as you stare across the desk at Assistant Director Shaw. His expression doesn’t shift—no flicker of disappointment, no flash of irritation. If anything, he looks like he expected this response. Maybe he did.

A man like Shaw doesn’t come into a conversation like this without preparation. He leans back slightly, hands lacing together on the polished wood surface between you.

“Agent,” he sighs, his tone just short of exasperation. “I just need you to take a week. Think about it.”

“Doctor.” The correction is automatic. Your arms cross over your chest, the cool detachment in your posture mirroring your tone. “And there’s nothing to think about.”

Shaw tilts his head, studying you, the way a handler might assess a particularly stubborn asset. “There is, actually.” His voice is measured, persuasive without being forceful. “This is a leadership position. A brand-new BAU satellite office, built from the ground up, with you at the helm. You’d have full autonomy. Hand-pick your team. It’s an opportunity that doesn’t come around often.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose—not quite a laugh, but close. “You know I don’t care about authority. And I already have a team.”

“And that team would want what’s best for you,” he counters smoothly, his gaze steady. “Just take the week. That’s all I’m asking.”

You don’t answer right away. You just look at him, the weight of his words pressing against something deep in your chest, something you don’t want to acknowledge. Shaw is good at this. He wouldn’t have climbed the ranks of the Bureau if he weren’t. His words are carefully chosen, strategically placed to plant a seed of doubt.

He’s waiting for you to push back. Waiting for the inevitable argument, for your reasons why this isn’t the right move for you.

The problem is, he’s not entirely wrong.

You’re not someone who shies away from change—you’ve uprooted your life before, for far less compelling reasons. And on paper, the offer is good. More than good. Full autonomy, no bureaucracy in the way, the ability to build something from scratch. A leadership role without the red tape that normally makes those positions unbearable.

It’s everything some agents would kill for.

But you don’t want it.

You don’t want the distance it would create. The shift in dynamic. The responsibility of a team that isn’t your team.

Shaw watches you, waiting. The seconds stretch between you, thick and heavy, until finally, you exhale.

“Fine,” you say, standing from your chair. “A week.”

Shaw’s lips twitch slightly—something between victory and satisfaction. “That’s all I ask.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you turn on your heel and walk out of his office without another word, already knowing that no amount of time will change your mind.

—

You don’t intend to spend the next seven days dwelling on the offer. You’ve already made up your mind.

And yet, for some reason, you catch yourself noticing things you’d miss if you left.

The warmth of your coffee in the morning, left on your desk by JJ without a word, the way she always seems to know exactly how you take it, even when you change things up.

The way Morgan always manages to rope you into his banter, no matter how hard you try to stay detached, how his teasing is never unkind, how it always manages to pull a reluctant smirk from you even on your worst days.

The way Hotch trusts you implicitly to handle high-profile cases, his respect for you never in question, his rare nods of approval feeling more meaningful than any spoken praise.

The rare but genuine laugh that escapes Emily when you let your sarcasm slip just a bit too far, the way she nudges you after with an amused shake of her head, like she’s letting you get away with something.

The way Garcia lights up whenever you step into her lair, her effortless ability to make the job feel lighter, more bearable. The quiet moments, the in-between ones—the ones you don’t usually pay attention to, but now, for some reason, feel sharper, more defined.

And then there’s Spencer.

Spencer, who watches you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle.

He’s the first to notice your frequent absences.

“You’ve been taking a lot of calls lately,” he says casually, one afternoon when you return to the bullpen after stepping out for yet another conversation with the Director’s office.

His tone is light, but there’s something searching in his gaze, something that lingers a second too long.

“Personal matter,” you reply, dismissive. You don’t owe him—or anyone—an explanation.

But Spencer is persistent.

Morgan, never one to miss a chance to stir the pot, leans back in his chair, smirking. “What’s got you so busy, princess? New boyfriend?”

You give him a flat look. “No.”

JJ joins in, resting her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “A headhunter maybe?”

Emily snaps her fingers. “She’s writing a book. That’s gotta be it,”

“Oh!” **Garcia gasps from across the room, whirling in her chair. “Are you secretly a vigilante crime fighter by night? Be honest. You’d tell me, right?”

The entire team turns to you expectantly, waiting, their amusement barely concealed. You say nothing, just sip your coffee, unbothered.

Theories continue throughout the week.

Garcia, in all her unsubtle glory, even tries to hack into your recent call logs. She fails, because you’ve anticipated her and taken countermeasures, and when she confronts you about it with a dramatic gasp of betrayal, you merely raise an eyebrow.

“I’m wounded,” she huffs, clutching her heart.

“You’ll survive,” **you deadpan.

They never guess correctly.

Spencer, though—he watches you more closely than the others. He notices the little things. The way your fingers tighten around your pen when your phone buzzes, the way your posture shifts just slightly when you decline a call. The way your expression smooths over, controlled, but never quite fast enough.

You don’t like being watched.

But you don’t tell him to stop.

—

By the time the week is up, you expect the conversation.

What you don’t expect is for it to happen in the middle of the bullpen.

The Assistant Director shows up unannounced, walking in like he owns the place, his sharp gaze sweeping the room as the usual hum of conversation and clicking keyboards grinds to a halt. Silence settles, heavy and expectant. You don’t have to look up to know that every single one of your teammates has stopped what they’re doing.

“Doctor,” **he greets, his hands in his pockets, his posture at ease in a way that feels calculated. “Have you made a decision about Seattle?”

You set your pen down, leveling him with a steady gaze.

“Yes.”

He waits.

The team waits.

You let the pause stretch, just long enough to make him think—maybe, just maybe—you’ve reconsidered.

“No, thanks.”

Silence.

Shaw’s brows lift slightly, genuine surprise flickering across his face for the first time since this conversation began. “You’re rejecting the chance to be in charge of your own team of people, hand-picked by you and built from the ground up?”

“Yes.”

He exhales, his gaze shifting briefly to the others—who are, at this point, blatantly listening despite their half-hearted attempts to look busy. Hotch stands with his arms crossed, expression unreadable. Emily and JJ exchange glances. Morgan leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised. Spencer is watching you, unmoving, unblinking.

“Understood,” Shaw finally says, his tone neutral. “If you ever change your mind—“

“I won’t.”

His lips twitch, like he’s amused despite himself. Maybe he respects your conviction. Maybe he was hoping for more of a fight. Either way, he nods. “Good luck, Doctor.”

And then he walks out, just as abruptly as he arrived.

For a long moment, no one says anything. The silence lingers, thick with the weight of what just happened.

Then—

“Wait, what?”

JJ is the first to break, whipping her head toward you. “You were offered a new position?”

“Seattle?” Spencer echoes, voice tight with disbelief. “You were offered chief of an entire new division, and you didn’t say anything?” You don’t fail to notice how he looks a little disappointed.

“More importantly, you rejected it?” Morgan leans forward, incredulous. “Why?”

Garcia makes a strangled noise from across the room, looking personally offended. “Wait, wait, wait—back up. You were offered a dream job, like ‘here’s a brand-new shiny team for you to build from scratch’ kind of deal, and you turned it down?!”

A dozen explanations flicker through your mind.

You could say you don’t want to uproot your life for an uncertain future. That leadership is more politics than profiling, and you’d rather stay in the field. That you’re comfortable where you are.

You could say all of that.

Instead, you pick up your pen, flipping open the next case file with deliberate ease.

“It wasn’t the right fit,” you say simply.

No one believes you.

Morgan lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Not the right fit?” Emily repeats, skeptical. “That’s all you’re giving us?”

JJ narrows her eyes. “Did Strauss block it somehow? Were there strings attached?”

“Or,” Garcia interjects, waggling her fingers dramatically, “is this one of those ‘I’m too emotionally repressed to admit I actually like it here’ situations?”

You don’t even dignify that with a response.

The theories start up again, murmurs of debate bouncing around the bullpen.

“Maybe it was a test,” Spencer muses aloud, his gaze still fixed on you. “A way to gauge her loyalty to the team,”

“Or maybe she just doesn’t want to be stuck behind a desk dealing with bureaucratic nonsense,” Emily counters.

“Or maybe she’s hiding something,” Morgan adds, giving you a pointed look.

You sigh, rubbing at your temple. “Are we done psychoanalysing me, or should I clear my schedule?”

That earns a few chuckles, but the curiosity in their eyes doesn’t fade.

Spencer, though—Spencer doesn’t look like he’s speculating anymore.

His expression is quieter, more thoughtful.

Like he’s already figured out the truth.

And when his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a knowing smile, you don’t look away.

[lynnieverse]

Hey GORGG

I was wondering could we get a fic where bsf!rafe is an ass to his baf bc he’s going through shit and he’s just ghosting her and is mean and when she does the same he realizes he fucked up? Angst ans fluff?

tysm luv!

ooo I got you! thank you for this rec!! :)

ghostin' // rafe cameron

oneshot

asshole!bsf!rafe cameron x reader

You knock loudly on the large wooden door of your best friend’s house before stepping back, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Rafe had been going ghost for days––ignoring text messages, skipping out on plans––and while it had concerned you in the beginning, now you’re just pissed. You tap your foot impatiently as the minutes pass, and eventually you pull out your phone. You call him five times. Five times before he answers. 

“Yes?” his tone was sharp, clearly annoyed. 

“Open the fucking door, Rafe Cameron.” 

“Why are you here, Y/N?” 

“Why do you think I’m here?! You’ve been ignoring me for days, dude. What the fuck is your problem?” You start pacing around his porch, looking in windows trying to catch a glimpse of his stupid ass. 

“Maybe take a hint then.” The words are like a slap to the face, lips parting slightly. What the fuck? After a beat, you go cold. He’s messing with the wrong bitch. 

“Alright, sure. You go off and do your little broody, pouty, ‘woe is me’ routine because daddy doesn’t love you, and see where that gets you. Meanwhile, the people who do love you, that you couldn’t give a shit about, are worried and just want to talk. Not me. You’re not going to treat me like the dirt on the bottom of your shoe and think I’ll stick around. Have a nice life.” You end your rant with a satisfying jab and end the call. You shove your phone in your pocket and storm to your car, immediately driving away without a second glance. 

Within five minutes you hear a familiar ringtone and roll your eyes. This is what he always does. He pushes and pushes until people break, and then tries to make up for it with pretty words. Not today, not ever again. 

You send him to voicemail, immediately getting a second call. Then another, then another. Eventually you resolve to turn your phone off, cutting all contact at the source. Sighing, you pull into your driveway and rest your head on the steering wheel. You could do this. 

It was his turn to be ignored. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Rafe expects you to call back. You always do. 

But you don’t. 

He wakes up to silence. No missed calls, no texts…nothing. He can’t help but sigh at his own stubbornness. 

At first he tells himself it’s fine, that you’re just giving him space and you’ll come around. 

Then he sees you out with your friends. 

You’re laughing, head tipped back, smile wide. Instinctively he wants to approach, but knows he shouldn’t. Not after what he did. 

He really fucked up this time. 

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Three Days Later

Rafe shows up to your house shortly after the sun dipped below the horizon, draining all the light from your street. His hands are shoved deep inside his pocket, head hung low. 

He knocks. 

No answer. 

He knocks again.

Silence.

This continued for a few more minutes before your muffled voice could be heard through the door. 

“Go home, Rafe.” 

His stomach twists painfully. He doesn’t know how to deal with you shutting him out. It was always the other way around. 

“I was an asshole. Please, Y/N, just talk to me.” The words felt like ash on his tongue. He never apologized, not to anyone. “I took my bullshit out on you and I shouldn’t have. I messed up, but this can’t be how it ends with us.”

Silence surrounds him once more. He sighs in defeat before turning around, ready to lick his wounds back to his house. As he stepped off your porch, the lock clicked.

You open the door just enough to fit your frame, arms crossed over your chest. “Do you even know what you did?” 

Rafe swallows hard. He looks at you, really looks at you—the tired set of your shoulders, the frustration flickering behind your eyes.

“I pushed you away,” he says finally. “And then when you tried to pull me back, I hurt you.”

You hold his gaze for a long moment, searching for something. He looked sincere, shoulders sagging and eyebrows scrunched. 

“Yeah,” you say, voice quiet. “You did.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s not forgiveness, not yet, but it’s enough for now. Enough to know you weren’t completely done with him yet. And Rafe will take whatever he can get. 

[chrollohearttags]

hard to breathe • portgas d. ace

seeing your ‘ex’ boyfriend ace one last time for closure..or so you thought. (based off of this song I’ve been obsessed with for months. It’s ‘old’ but I felt like it fit him and the vibe of this fic)

📝: black fem!reader, lots of relationship angst, modern au, heavy kissing, arguing + lots of dialogue, they’re slightly toxic ( y’all both ain’t shit I’m sorry 😭), riding, car sex, dirty talk, breeding, baby trapping (kinda), infidelity, hair pulling, pet names and daddy used, crying

wc: 4.1K

🎙️: I love writing my faves in a bunch of different scenarios, including ones that aren’t typical for their personality. This is in no way condoning toxicity, infidelity or anything of the sort. I just thought it would be a lil fun to experiment.

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“Where are you right now?”

“I should be with you..”

“You know that’s not a good idea..”

“Yeah, but it’s what we both want..who cares if it’s wrong or not?”

3:30am

the deep drawl on the other end of the line luring you in with each word..it always had a tendency to do so, even when you wished you could just ignore it.

“Ace, what the hell do you want from me? Stop this.”

“C’mon, babe. It’s the truth. Don’t tell me you’re feeling guilty..what did I tell you? You’ve got to stop giving so much a damn about what other people think.”

“Go to hell. Not everyone can just mistreat people like it’s nothing.”

it was a shame honestly..this type of behavior was so unbecoming of both of you. A sweet girl who didn’t like to make much of a fuss for anyone or over anything. And him, the shining example of a stand up guy. Charming, kind, helpful, a little rough around the edges but what every man should strive to be. Yet here you were..whispering into the speaker of your phone as to not wake the one in the room next to you. A mere replacement to dull the ache in your heart caused by him and his stupidity. Meanwhile, he was chuckling in your ear. Seemingly teasing you because he could sense the tension in your shaky voice. He knew you’d bolt the second you heard a ruffle from the other room…but he also knew you’d never hang up. Knew you couldn’t resist answering in the first place and for damn sure, that you couldn’t resist his offer…

“I want to see you. I can be at your place in ten..”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? It’s late, Ace..and—“

“And what? Afraid your little boyfriend might wake up? I know it’s not because you don’t want to see me either.”

“You’re a piece of work, you know that? How dare you? You ended things, Ace. Not me. So why the fuck do you keep hitting me up?”

the line would fall silent for a moment..only the shallow echoes of your breath captured on the opposite end. That was until you’d hear a sigh and his voice once more. This time with a much less arrogant tone.

“Listen, (y/n)..I get it. I fucked up..it’s my fault things turned out this way and I’m sorry. I know I can’t go back or change anything that happened between us but I can try to make it right. Even if it means someone else gets to do what I couldn’t…I just wanted a chance to apologize. In person…which I should’ve been man enough to do from the jump.”

the things in question? Your relationship..a bond of three years to be exact and a union everyone was certain would end in the two of you walking down the aisle. However, life has a funny way of throwing even the biggest of curveballs. This man had all but swept you off your feet one night a few summers ago..both out with friends and enjoying the night life as young singles should. Drinking, laughing and having a blast. Even though you were a bit more on the reserved side, he still managed to spot you out of all the beautiful women in that club that night. And trust, a fair share of them had been vying for his attention. Even so, he couldn’t focus on anyone but you. That was one of Ace’s many wonderful qualities. In a room full of people, he managed to make you feel special..as if you were the only one there. Which wasn’t exactly intentional..his biggest issue was that he tried to be friendly, trying his hardest not to hurt anyone’s feelings anymore. He struggled with his anger quite a bit when he was younger, taking next to nothing to set him off and if he was in the midst of conversation with one person, it was best that no one else tried to interrupt. However, he realized that only caused trouble so he always tried to greet someone regardless. It just didn’t fare very well when it came to women. No girl wants someone that it seems everyone can access to!

But alas, you sat in that section next to him; nursing your drinks and exchanging pleasantries. He was so easy to talk to. He had this awkward yet charming charisma about him. Almost as if despite his good looks, he wasn’t the ‘ladies man’ you’d peg him to be off first glance. Somehow though, he managed to get your number and the rest was history. You began hanging out, going on a couple dates..even spending a weekend together after a bad storm trapped the two of you inside of his apartment. You really enjoyed being around him and as time passed, the bond grew stronger. Six months later, you came over to visit and found yourself greeted by smoke and an obviously frustrated Ace covered in soot..a result of him attempting to cook a dinner to formally ask you to be his girlfriend! It was those goofy yet sweet gestures that made you adore him.

perfectly flawed was the best way to describe him in your book…maybe he made mistakes and maybe he didn’t come from this picturesque family but he was a damn good guy doing his best to be better than what he was used to. He was a hard worker and willing to fight for what he wanted.

You cherished every moment you guys got to spend together and at one point, you even got matching tattoos of half hearts on each of your hands..however, things began to crumble in the once ideal world you had curated together.

going from laughing all the time to petty arguments that seemed intentional. From spending late nights together..making love until the sun shines over your bodies..now you were blowing up his phone to see where he was. You began to suspect that he was cheating. Perhaps somewhere with another woman. But you were wrong..truth be told, he was running.

running away from a healthy home and relationship because he didn’t know how to handle it. Didn’t know how to process being loved unconditionally without expecting the worst to happen…he never figured himself to be good enough for you to begin with but here you were..constantly showering him with affection; buying him gifts, making his favorite meals and even surprising him with massages after long, stressful days at work. You were everything he didn’t deserve! Hence why..he felt the need to blow it up before it could escalate. He couldn’t let you continue treating someone like him as if he were special. Three weeks later, he texted you asking to break up and to say you were devastated? Was an understatement. You loved this man so damned much, you had already begun looking at wedding dresses and contemplating baby names, figuring you guys were in this for the long run. But fairy tales don’t exist and you weren’t getting the story book ending. Instead, you were left heartbroken..trying to piece yourself back together and figure out what went wrong.

“Just one last time, that’s all I’m asking. I want to say I’m sorry and then I’m out of your hair for good, I promise. I won’t bother you ever again..”

a solid compromise, you supposed. Besides, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to look him in his eye and tell him to go fuck himself for how he fumbled you. He’d plead, calling your name until he got a response and finally:

“I’ll be in the lobby, call me when you get here.” Before disconnecting the line and releasing a heavy sigh. You fought back tears but in order for the next chapter of your life to begin, you had to finish this one. But the funny thing about some books…

is that they refused to remain closed!

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page break bc I don’t do filler

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“..it’s nice to see you again. You look beautiful as always—“

“Enough of the small talk. State your business and make it quick.”

the two of you sat parked outside of your luxury apartment complex, downstairs in the desolate parking garage. Your arms folded across your chest in a defensive manner and his stretched across the steering wheel..that goofy snark on his face as he kissed his teeth. He knew you were fighting so hard to stand firm in your boundaries, something you struggled with in the past. And truthfully, he hated to disrupt that peace…but he was selfish, gluttonous even. He wasn’t always this nice guy everyone saw him as. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too and if that meant he’d leave your head a mess once again then so be it. A fucked up sentiment but the truth nonetheless..

“…damn. It's like that then? Fair enough..”

turning in his seat, Ace shifted and focused his attention directly on you. It was hard to maintain eye contact because how could he face you after such a betrayal? Even so, this was his bed he made and it was time to lie in it.

“The truth is...I was afraid. One day, you’d wake up and realize that I wasn’t what you thought I was. That I was broken and I didn’t have my shit together. It’s like no matter what I did in my life, I found a way to fuck it up. Make a mess of things..I’m not like you, (y/n). Honestly, what could you possibly see in me? Don’t you want someone who’s your equal?”

by this time, tears were beginning to swell in his eyes as well. The more he spoke, he realized that these feelings of insecurity were always within him. You promised yourself that you were just going to give him a piece of your mind, storm out and never have to see him again. But it was never that easy with this man.

you knew he was genuine and not just trying to victimize himself. He honestly felt like you could do so much better. But he also knew by the look in your eyes that you were not going to let him get away so easily.. You didn’t hate him, hell, you couldn’t even bring yourself to fully get angry with him for what he did. Looking down, Ace would begin to chuckle; a weird coping mechanism for him in times of stress and uttered the last words you wanted to hear.

“And after all this time, all the bullshit I put you through..you still love me, don’t you? That’s the only reason you’re still sitting here..the only reason you didn’t hang up. When you’re done with something, you never give it a second thought.” sitting cross armed, you’d begin to laugh. Not at his hurt but at the fact that for the first time in almost five years of knowing him, you saw him show genuine, raw emotion. You saw him finally let down his guard and be himself…as sad as it was, it was a bit cathartic.

“Wow…so you are capable of communicating your feelings and there isn’t a ten foot wall of bullshit in that head of yours.” Poking the side of his temple playfully..

“Of course I love you. I never stopped, you inconsiderate jackass. What did I ever do to you? That’s all I could ask myself. You keep talking about me deserving better and all of this bullshit..who gave you the right to decide what I wanted and what I deserve? Shouldn’t I have a say too? You left because it was easy, Ace. Instead of working through it with me, you ran because you don’t want anyone thinking you’re weak. That’s not how relationships work..we’re supposed to see each other at our worst, our best..good and bad days. If you feel insecure about anything, you did it to yourself because you were perfect to me and you know damn well I never made you feel anything less than.”

those words stung like none other. And honestly, no matter what he said, there wasn’t a good enough excuse for any of his behavior. You said it best..he was selfish, immature and didn’t think clearly. Ace had a knack for marching to the beat of his own drum and damn the consequences.

“..you’re right, (y/n). It’s my fault..and I can’t take any of it back…” suddenly, you’d feel his hand clutch the top of your own, intertwining your fingers as he stared you in the eye.

“..but I can try to fix it. Fix us..let me make this right. Please…if you’re happier with someone else, then there’s nothing I can do. But—“ In that moment, (y/n) had finally heard all that you could take. Reaching over the console, you’d clutch his face in your palm and shove your lips together. The sensation of that warm kiss sent a surge throughout your body..a spark you hadn’t felt since the day he left.

“Are you done? God, I swear you talk too damn much.” Prompting him to laugh as you held the side of his face. He was a little taken aback by your sudden dominance. Not knowing you to ever take control like this but he wasn’t mad about it one bit..

“..why’d you kiss me? What about your boyfriend?” A question as disrespectful as it was rhetorical.

“You’re as dumb as you are cute sometimes. You think I came all the way out here at three am to chit chat? Nut uh, you owe me..also, you’re a greedy bastard. No way you’re letting me go back in that apartment unless it’s with you." By this time, your hands were roaming his chest and your faces were only inches apart. His lips would curl into a sheepish grin before his palm snaked to the back of your neck, tugging your head towards him.

“..what can I say, babe? I’m just too damn stubborn..I always have to get my way.” And with that, you’d find your tongues joined together again. Twirling around one another with heavy whimpers mixed in. Suddenly, you’d find yourself crawling into the driver's seat and onto his lap. Just as you’d suspected, he’d worn those gray sweats you’d always loved to see him in and a black tank top to display his muscles, along with a newly acquired tattoo.

This man was not slick at all! Even so, his little tactic worked because all those memories of late nights and early mornings with him came rushing back. When you’d find yourself sneaking out on lunch breaks at work just to come eat his dick up or when he’d show up at your apartment around midnight because he’d work the closing shift again. With a bottle of wine and the intention of putting you through the mattress in every position after two glasses got you turned on. It was always exciting and spontaneous with Ace, something your ‘new man’ lacked. Slowly winding in his lap as you continued to make out, (y/n) caressed his torso..missing the familiar touch of his skin, taking in the scent of his cologne and immersing yourself in him. He’d run his thumbs across your throat, gently squeezing as you took his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re so beautiful..I missed you.” “Yeah? You missed me, baby?” Teasing him as you bounced your ass against his crotch, subtly twerking on his visible bulge. Caressing your gentle fingertips across his freshly shaven jawline. You could feel him growing harder underneath him and knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Even kissing on his neck and licking on his jugular. “Mmmm..fuck. Pull that dress up and I’ll show you just how much.” Without a single bit of hesitation, you lifted the hem and allowed your bare cheeks and slit to graze him. Shuffling around underneath you, Ace slid his thumbs into the sides of those sweats, letting them pool around his waist. Meanwhile, he couldn’t stop marking your neck and lips with tender kisses..or apologizing for how stupid he was! Being here with you again brought back a flood of memories and emotions..ones that he never wanted to lose again. He needed this to be real once more. However, you weren’t much for talking right now..if he wanted to win his girl back, all you needed were actions.

“Why are you still talking? Just fuck the shit out of me before I grow a conscience and change my mind.” Your command being heard loud and clear; forcing him to grip your waist and balance you above that aching tip. Swollen red and seeping with precum, he was eager for you and that warm cunt was welcoming him in.

“Yes ma’am..whatever you say.” Following up his remark with a toothy smirk so you knew he was going to deliver and give you exactly what you were looking for. (Y/N) reclined against the steering wheel for a moment as he slowly infiltrated that entrance. That core drooling as he made home inside of you. Both of your heads fell backwards in a haze of pleasure…enjoying the all too familiar feeling of being one!

“Shiiit..why are so fucking tight? Oh my gosh..” those breathy moans and whines escaped his mouth the second he began thrusting. Not even two pumps in and he was trying to maintain his composure. With you though, he failed pretty quick. Reacclimating to the warmth that was your insides was going to be a challenge. Even so, he’d continue to guide you up and down on his shaft, letting that thick cock stretch open those wet folds.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Take this dick…just like that..” Meanwhile, (y/n)’s mouth fell ajar, overstimulated by the sensation already. You’d paw at his chest, holding onto him as he maneuvered you to his liking. Using your body like that of a flesh light. “’s so good. Missed this big fucking dick.” Hearing those words elicited another chuckle from Ace, prompting him to cradle the back of your neck in a dominant manner, pulling you close. “Yeah? Your little boyfriend ever fuck you like this?” Questioning through clenched teeth as he continued guiding your lower half..

those soft insides wrapping around him with each stroke. You’d then feel the tight clutch of his hand on the back of your head, tugging at those freshly styled wefts coursing down your back..he was aware of the minute fortune you spent each month to upkeep your beauty. From the thousand dollar hair appointments, nail salon visits and waxes..even so, he didn’t give a damn! Turning his gorgeous girl into a sloppy slut was his favorite pastime. A toothy grin on his face, watching your swollen tits bounce and drool seep from the corners of your mouth, along with the loud moans following suit.

“..I’ll take that as a no. You’re squeezing me like you haven’t come in ages, babe.” Those taunts harbored more truth than you’d care to admit. As shameful as it was to be cheating, you’d never be happy with someone who couldn’t give you a nut! Hypocritical as it was abhorrent, you too would never be satisfied until you got what you desired. And that desire was the guy slamming balls deep up inside of you at the moment. Pounding that sensitive little core..letting that fat mushroom tip split you open and begging for that sweet cunt to siphon him for every last drop of cum he had. “You’re fucking dripping..you must’ve needed this bad. Goddamn..” referring to the creamy release you had drizzling his cock. Making a mess of his lap. “Y—yeah..you’re the only one who can make me cream like this.” Cock drunk and giggling as he catapulted you up and down. The vehicle began to sway due to the heavy activity taking place and the windows also began to fog up as a result. That’s when you’d feel his palms colliding with your asscheeks, egging on your bouncing. It was in the midst of those heavy handed smacks that he’d begin pleading his remorse. Telling you how sorry he was for how he mistreated you. As cute as it was, you weren’t interested in any half assed apologies, but rather….

”…if you’re really sorry, you’ll nut in me. This is your pussy so act like it..” Uttering those words with a wide smile on your face whilst meeting his strokes with heavy bounces..nearly made Ace convulse. He loved when you spoke to him in such a domineering manner. You’d feel a sudden twitch inside of you and his hands guiding you as you slammed down on that cock. Your cheeks grazing the outer rim of the steering wheel..both of you so close to your peak that you’d claw into one another’s skin.

Covered in a sheen of sweat and saliva..begging the other to get you there and revealing all of your deepest confessions for one another..including the fact that he wanted you to be his forever and that you weren’t leaving this parking lot without him. You’d clearly chosen who you wanted to be with.

“…damn right it’s my pussy, princess. I don’t care who you bring home. You belong to me and I belong to you..no one else can come between that. Ever again.”

not to mention..you were begging for his cum yet again. You’d often divulge in the throes of pre-climatic bliss that you wanted to have his kid..be so full of his seed that there was no way you weren’t pregnant and Ace certainly had no objections to it. Maybe it was the sensation of being cream pied or the fact that you really wanted a family with him. Either way, he constantly fantasized about seeing you full with his seed; how adorable you’d look with a bump and he just couldn’t maintain his composure.

“Yes..please come in me. Want your baby—“ having to laugh again at how cute and pathetic you were becoming. But alas, there was no room for shame right now. You’d plead with your last breath to feel that womb stuffed again.

“That right, gorgeous? Does my pretty girl want me to get her pregnant?..” “Yes, nut in this fucking pussy, daddy. Please!” certainly a far cry from the headstrong woman who was yelling at him before. Now, you were reduced to a desperate little cumslut, pleading to be bred. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait long. After experiencing your second orgasm in close succession, Ace would pin you down and force his cock up into you, going as fast as he could muster. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna take every drop. You’re going to have my baby and I’m going to take such good care of you both. Gonna marry you—be a better man this time around..” That soft flesh ricocheting as a result..loud grunts and curse words filling the car as he prepared to do the same to you.

“M fucking coming, babe! Hold still—shit!—“ in that moment, that orgasm would rip through his body and just as you requested, all of his warm seed coursed through your insides and didn’t stop for a solid two minutes..having not had a proper orgasm since you guys split up. He was still twitching inside of you, holding you to his chest as you both cried from how amazing it felt. Tears on both of your faces as a result of ecstasy.

“Damn, I guess I wasn’t the only one who needed that.” Teasing him amidst your cute giggles. Leaning up, (y/n) kissed the tip of his nose and caressed his cheek..unable to believe that you were here with him again. He’d gently stroke the side of your face as well..glaring at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you, (y/n)..so much. I never thought I’d get the chance to tell you that again. Feels so good.” And you shared his sentiment. He was the only one it ever felt genuine from and damn sure, the only guy you meant it to. Any guilt or shame had long since absolved and you knew this was exactly where you should’ve been. ”I love you too, Ace. I’m so glad you showed up.” It was going to be a long day, as you had some explaining to do. But for now..

“Shit..he’s calling me.”

“Ignore it..let me hold you a little bit longer, okay?”

you wanted to remain in this moment for as long as possible. After all, this is where you were happiest and there was no one who’d give you the high that he could.

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 12

Y'all are getting two chapters today because a little silly someone, won't @ because they haven't asked to be tagged in the tag list and Idk if they'd like the call out but they know who they are, liked every chapter and I loved your little comments so I finished chapter 13 so I can post this chapter only fueled by your excitement 🥰🥹

CW: people are getting their ass beat, so mention of blood and decapitation.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 12 >>next

With Nolan completely refusing to face anyone lately, and the announcement that the guardians are dead, you had to get away. You couldn’t sit and wait for him, couldn’t cry over the guardians, couldn’t sit by and watch how worried Debbie was every morning when he’d left. You just couldn’t.

So, while Mark went to university with Amber and William, you cashed in your vacation days and let the shadows lead you away over the seas to Romania. Softly landing in the Hoia-Baciu Forest felt—surprisingly—like home.

The whispers of the shadows nudged you around the forest, deeper and deeper, past the oddly shaped trees straight to a burnt circle of land where dried trees grew. Walking past the circle changed the scenery, from gloomy grey trunks to moss-covered, flourishing weeping willows circling a little lake.

Walking back to the edge of the circle, you stuck half of your body out and back observing the change happening right before your eyes. It seemed to be a Midnight City magic dome thing. Inside the dome, it was quite beautiful, the astilbes and the Japanese irises giving some color to the landscape. Your hands softly traced the taller flora as you got closer to the lake, lifting off the ground to move towards the center where a small piece of rock was.

This was a great place for an altar and the shadows greatly approved, too. Sitting on your ass, crisscross apple sauce, you placed your hands on the smooth surface, transfiguring it to expand and even out a bit more.

By the time you were done setting wards so no one could find the place and adding the actual altar and the statues for Lady Gotham and Death it was already so late.

With a small sigh, you place yourself in front of the altar once more. You were never religious, your biological mother didn’t care, Bruce didn’t, the Graysons didn’t- it felt awkward to pray to them. Constantine mentioned that praying to them could just be talking to them, they’re not Yahweh, they’re not Allah, they don’t abide by those rules.

So, you didn’t either. You thanked them for the blessings they gave you, hoped they were well, and told them about your day, leaving them with a bowl of sliced apples and some flowers, deciding to visit the rest of the country while you still had a few days of vacation.

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“Went to Mars, almost got killed by Martians, got the shit beaten out of me for trying to help the Titan, got half of Teen Team- er… the new Guardians in hospital. Also, his one guy in the college was kidnapping male students he saw as peak alpha males and modifying them to essentially turn them into robocops wannabes consisting of no free will and mech bodies, including William’s boyfriend, for the betterment of the human race.” Marks sighs tiredly. “Amber and I broke up and made up again. Told her I’m Invincible… she knew.”

Debbie just looked at her son, before turning to look at you. Maybe she should stop asking how everyone’s day was. “Don’t look at me like that, ma. For once I had a normal day. Visited a lot of places in Romania after finding a little nook for my altar and got some presents for you two and our friends.” You shrug as you take another bite of food. “How was your day?”

Your mother smiles. Well, maybe she shouldn’t, it was the little normality she had in her life. “Sold a penthouse to a billionaire who had a set of all gold teeth.” You snort at that. “That’s one way to show off.”

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Since sunrise Mark has been searching for his dad and once he did, he immediately tackled him, rolling through the air for a bit before stopping. “Where have you been?! Why haven’t you said anything?” Nolan didn’t get to respond Mark continued. “Are you cheating on mom? Do you have a second family or something?”

“What?! Of course not! Why would you-“ Nolan stutters at the audacity. “Because one day you just decided to up and disappear! You barely come home anymore- Do you even love us anymore? I need you to think about it before you answer- really consider it, because I want you to mean it truthfully- Do you love us?”

The older Viltrumite couldn’t hide the shock, the anguish as he actually thought about it. Loving them meant going against his mission- to a small degree, sure, he could still finish it- but- “Yes... I-I do. I truly love your mother and you deeply. I love your sister just as much. You three are very important to me.”

“Then stop this- nonsense!” Mark waved his arms around. “You’ve been missing for almost two months, barely come home to sleep- You know how paranoid my sister is, she’s making plans over plans on how to take you down because she thinks you snapped and are trying to conquer the planet.”

“She thinks I plan to conquer Earth?” Nolan asks softly, hands clenching at his side. “Yes! She thinks me and mom don’t know but I found her encrypted files- she thinks now that you know the Viltrumites can create offsprings that have powers with humans, you have started making plans to take over. She thinks you killed the Guardians because they could have slowed you down, maybe even stopped you- she thinks you’ll come to me and ask me to help- that you’ll come clean and confess that the Viltrumites are- are these-“

Mark couldn’t finish… How could he? You didn’t come up with these ideas out of thin air- you had evidence. Circumstantial evidence- but it still was so compelling, too many coincidences to be just nothing. “She made plans that could take me down, too. Just in case I would accept to help you- she’s gone mad, dad. And- and I started to believe it too.”

Mark looks at his father, straight in his eyes. “So I need you to come home, to talk to us- I don’t want to believe it- I don’t want to think that you’d ask me to do such bullshit.” The young man clenched his fist. “Please tell me she’s wrong- because if she isn’t- I won’t help you. I’ll do anything to stop yo-“ Mark didn’t finish as Nolan threw a punch, breaking his mask and making him bite his cheek.

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“Honestly, Eve, I can’t believe you didn’t dump Rex the first time he cheated.” You sipped on your soft drink as you walked with Eve. “I know- It’s just- we both-“ She tried to come up with a reason, just a tiny one to try and keep her pride. “You both got your powers in a lab- yes. I know. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve the respect of a man. And I can’t believe Kat jumped at the first opportunity- is the ‘not your bestie’s ex’ not in the girl rulebook anymore?”

As Eve opened her mouth to respond to that, what came out was a gasp of shock as her eyes caught the fight happening on the news. “What? Are the news more import-“ As you tuned to look behind you at the TVs in the electronics shop your mouth dropped with the drink you were holding.

The flashing pictures of Mark and the Immortal fighting furiously against Nolan make your blood run cold. The robot cameras that were flying around the men managed to pick up some of the conversation, mostly Immortal furiously yelling but- “This isn’t you! You don’t want to do this! You just feel like you have no choice, but you do!” they caught Mark too.

“Is your dad being mind-controlled?” Eve asks, clearly worried as she looks at you. “No…” Is all you say before you disappear with a breeze of air. It wasn’t a good idea to travel via magic right now. Eve caught a glimpse of Omni-man decapitating The Immortal before she changed into her costume and tried to keep up with you.

Somewhere in space, the League of Justice and Laughing Magician could only watch in terror as the news kept up with the man and his son. “Please don’t… Please don’t try and stop him.” John’s whispered payers were met only with Batman’s suspicious glare. “We should go and help!” Superman’s worried pleas was quickly shut down.

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Mark couldn’t register everything his father yelled at him as they fought through the air, and he definitely could not after being thrown into the ground and punched twice. But he could answer one question. “You and her… I’d still have you and my sister, dad.” And Nolan hesitated on his third punch. But you didn’t.

Your hit threw Nolan off Mark, making the older man crash into a crater of his own. You didn’t let him get a break. “I trusted you! We all did!” Punch after punch, the ground beneath his head created a bigger and bigger hole. “Mom and Mark love you! I love you! And you go and chose them?!”

You didn’t even notice when John Constantine popped in, almost stumbling through the portal as he ran to your brother, racking his brain for every healing spell he could use. He didn’t care that Bruce would corner him when he went back and interrogate him about this, not when you needed him.

“What is so important about them that we didn’t give you?! You haven’t seen them in years-“ Your yelling cracked as you sobbed, your tears mixing with the blood of the man. Why didn’t he choose you? “Why not us? Why them?! Why are you letting me beat the shit out of you?!” As your hands clenched above your head in a double axe handle motion, ready to turn his face into mush, you’re stopped by your brother’s voice calling your name.

Your fury turns to fear and worry as you look towards him, getting up just to stumble towards him and John. Your tears clouded your vision as you fell to your knees by Mark, gently holding his hand as you inquired about him. “I’m fine- just like, five punches to the head and a throw to the ground.” He croaked out, flinching slightly as his nose set back into place while John continued doing his best to heal the young man.

“In other universes, you either die or get the snot and spline beaten outta ya- this is so much better kid.” Constantine immediately cringes at his words, his eyes meeting yours as he instantly apologizes. “- I should have told you, hen-“

The sound of the sonic boom doesn’t even make you flinch. If Nolan wanted to run away, that was fine by you. “I knew. Nobody is that kind just to help out of the goodness of their hearts.” You said softly, reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. “I should have done more. Should have told the Guardians or someone about my suspicions, my plans on how to deal with him-”

“You made contingency plans?” At your stutter and confused look, Mark could only laugh, immediately getting what the man meant. The rumors of Batman’s paranoia were true after all. “She even made a few for me in case I accepted.” John huffed in amusement at that. “Well- then we better keep you away from the Bat, he may just adopt you.” Some of the League’s members couldn’t hold in their laughs at the utter disgust your face showed. “With my track record of father figures you better keep the furry as far away from me as possible.” Constantine could hear Hal's laughter from where he sat as she finished speaking.

“We should get going before Cecil shows up.” You sigh while helping Mark get up. “We’re moving again? I just got here…” Eve said as she finally landed, getting Mark’s other side. “You both were hard to find, and I missed everything.”

“No need- I can help with that.” John groans as he gets up, brushing his pants off before he opens a portal to Mark’s home. “Alright, let’s get the lad home.” He lets the kids through first, and before he steps in too, he makes sure to flip off the robot cameras, just for Bruce.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[kiwriteswords]

I was listening to Diet Pepsi by Addison Rae (it gives me so much Hotch vibes for some reason??? I love it) and I thought it would be the perfect occasion to make a request for your Thirsty Thursday 👀 I don't have much idea but I guess something in the car, maybe a younger reader so we have a lovely age gap and maybe something that goes with the lyrics "I write my name with lipstick on your chest I leave a mark so you know I'm the best" (don't need to be the name writing of course ahah but I love the idea of lipstick stains on his chest)

You're the absolute best and congrats on your 2k btw!! you deserve thousand more 🫶

Fog up the windows in the parking lot [Aaron Hotchner x Age-Gap!Reader] **

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 3k|| AN: Hii! Thank you so much for this request--I still can't believe I was listening to this song when you sent this, haha. Great minds think alike!! I hope you like this (I can't write smut to save my life, but here i am doing a smut day.)

Tags/Warnings: female reader, porn without plot honestly, smut, mdni, unprotected sex, car sex, I am bad at writing smut sorry, horny hotch, sorta brat tamer hotch, age gap, you're hotch's controversially young gf, not specified if reader is BAU (so up to your imagination).

Summary: The one where Aaron Hotchner realizes he goes weak in the knees when he sees how tight his much younger girlfriend's jeans are.

Hotch couldn't help himself today, and it was all because of those jeans you decided to wear. Each time you bent over to grab something off the lower shelves at the grocery store, his heart skipped a beat, his mind filled with thoughts that had no place in the brightly lit aisles of their local market. You were oblivious to the effect you were having on him, focused on checking items off the grocery list, your hips swaying naturally as you moved down the aisles.

It wasn’t just the bending or the swaying; it was every little thing you did. Each time you reached up to grab something from a higher shelf, the way your back arched slightly, Hotch felt a pull deep inside him, a stirring of feelings he hadn't expected to be so strong.

When you both loaded the groceries into the car and then reached into the backseat to grab your purse, your jeans hugging you perfectly, Hotch found his eyes lingering. He was usually more composed than this, more in control, but today, those jeans had him teetering on the edge.

Driving home, he kept stealing glances your way, each look like adding fuel to a fire he was struggling to contain. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and tinged with a hint of warning and desire mingled together. "You have no idea what those jeans are doing to me," he confessed, trying to keep his focus on the road but failing miserably.

You turned to look at him, a mischievous sparkle in your eye, fully aware now of the turmoil you were causing. His words, so out of character for the usually stoic and controlled man, only brought a playful smile to your lips.

Hotch knew he was treading uncharted waters, not just with his emotions but with how openly he was expressing them. Despite the teasing from the team, who noticed how much younger you were, and their offhand jokes about him being like a lovestruck teenager, it didn't matter. You brought out a side of him he never knew existed. A side that felt alive, vibrant, and yes, even a bit reckless.

You sighed, looking in your purse for something beside Hotch in the passenger seat. He then all about lost it when you unbuckled your seat belt in the passenger seat and twisted to the back. Your ass was now level with his head, practically drawing him in. He had to keep his eyes on the road--but god dammit. 

The car shifted slightly as he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening from the tension. "You're doing this on purpose now," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mix of exasperation and barely contained desire.

Playing coy, you didn't respond immediately. Instead, you found your lipstick and settled back into your seat, taking your time to apply it carefully, glancing at him to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicked, catching yours, and you saw a flash of something intense in his gaze.

Hotch stepped on the gas a bit harder than necessary, the slight surge forward a clear indication of his growing impatience and agitation. You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction, teasing him further. "You know, you're really sexy when you're all hot and bothered," you pointed out, your tone playful yet sincere.

The remark seemed to hit a nerve, and Hotch took a deep breath, trying to refocus his attention on the road. But it was clear you had effectively distracted him, his mind racing with thoughts he usually kept well under wraps. This side of Hotch, the one that struggled between his composed exterior and the mounting desire you elicited, intrigued you. It was a side of him that came out rarely, and you relished the moments when you could draw it out, loving the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't watching.

You leaned back in your seat, a mischievous glint in your eye, and teased him, "I have a good idea."

Hotch's response was immediate and a little strained, his voice tight as he focused on the road. "The only idea I have right now is getting home and taking a cold shower." He was half-joking, but the undertone of his voice betrayed his growing frustration and need.

You laughed lightly, enjoying the effect you had on him, but decided to push the envelope a little further. "You know," you started casually as if the thought had just occurred to you, "I've always wanted to have sex in the car."

Hotch paused at that, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He glanced at you briefly, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. The rational side of him kicked in almost immediately, listing several reasons why that was not a good idea—safety, legality, the potential for discomfort. But before he could voice any of those thoughts, he felt your hand on his thigh.

Your fingers started caressing him, inching dangerously close to his groin. Each touch sent a jolt through him, scattering his thoughts and straining his control. His grip on the steering wheel tightened again, and he drew in a sharp breath, trying to concentrate on the road while battling the surge of desire your bold move had ignited.

He half sighed, half groaned your name, his voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the road. "That's not—"

But he didn't finish his sentence. The sensation of your fingers, the way you leaned closer to him, your breath on his neck as you whispered just how much you wanted this—all of it was overwhelming. Hotch gripped the steering wheel even tighter, the car speeding along as he battled the surge of desire that you sparked with your daring touch.

He took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the more he thought about your suggestion, the more appealing it seemed. Here he was, a man always in control, always calculated, yet at this moment, driven to the edge by the simple act of your hand on his leg.

"We should... we should at least pull over," he finally conceded, his voice a mix of reluctance and desire, realizing that resisting you completely was a battle he might not want to win today. As he scanned for a secluded spot to park, the thrill of the impending escapade with you sent a jolt of anticipation through him. 

Hotch pulled the car over, the tires crunching softly on the gravel as he turned off into a secluded spot shielded by trees. Without a word, he reached over the console, his movements deliberate, and captured your lips in a rough, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your lipstick leaving a taste of cherries against his lips, igniting a fire within him that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

His hands roamed over your body with a sense of urgency and ownership, finally reaching across the console to trace down your legs to those tight jeans that had been torturing him all day. His touch sent shivers up your spine, and you pulled back breathless, meeting his gaze which had darkened with raw desire.

"You’re gonna need to help me peel these off," you suggested with a playful yet sultry tone, motioning towards the backseat, "Maybe back there would be better?"

The idea sent a thrill through Hotch, the tightness in his own jeans growing at the thought. His brain buzzed with a cascade of 'what ifs' — what if we get caught? What if someone sees? Yet, the logical side of him was quickly overridden by the sheer desire to be closer to you, to explore this daring side of your relationship.

Hotch's decision was made the moment you suggested moving to the backseat, but as he surveyed the space, he realized there was enough room if he pushed the driver's seat all the way back. The SUV, similar to the one he drove for the FBI, was spacious, but even then, the two of you fit just barely.

You began to wiggle out of your jeans in the passenger seat, and Hotch reached for his belt with urgency. Typically, your intimate moments were full of foreplay, and you both took your time, savoring each other. But today was different—there was a sense of rush, an urgency in the air as he pulled himself from his jeans, his eyes never leaving you.

"Come here," he said in a low, commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a direct, uncharacteristically blunt invitation, but it carried all the intensity of your mutual desire. He adjusted himself, making space for you, anticipation etching every line of his face as he awaited you to straddle his lap.

Your eyes went from his to his hand as he began stroking himself with a semi-achingly slow pace that made your eyes widen. He watched you slide your panties down your legs, kicking them to the floor of the car with your jeans and shoes.

The rush, the spontaneity—it all contributed to a thrilling urgency neither of you could deny. As you moved towards him, leaving the constraints of your jeans behind, the tight confines of the SUV seemed to close in, enveloping you both in a private world where only your intertwined desires mattered.

You slid from the passenger seat, the fabric of the car seats whispering beneath you as you maneuvered yourself toward Hotch. The confined space of the SUV made every movement more deliberate, more charged with an electrifying tension. Your heart raced as you reached him; his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored the pounding of your pulse.

Carefully, you straddled him, positioning yourself over his lap. Hotch's hands immediately found your hips, his grip firm and sure, anchoring you securely against him. The close quarters of the SUV enveloped you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that amplified each breath, each subtle shift in movement.

His hand moved from your hip to between your legs, spreading you and finding the wetness that waited for him there. He groaned, feeling it; he threw his head back, opening his neck for you to nip at and kiss. You began unbuttoning his button-up, glad he went without the tie today and just the button-up and jeans--a casual look you loved. 

You reached between the two of you and positioned him before swiftly sinking down with a shared groan filling the walls between the two of you. You felt the pads of his fingertips grip your hips again as you began to rock into him, subconsciously clenching around him. 

His hands caressed the curve of your ass, guiding your hips to rock against him. The way he pressed you so firmly down against his hips had the right amount of pressure on your clit, causing you to roll your eyes in pleasure. 

His hands spread up your sides on your still-clothed top. Through your shirt, he grabbed at your breasts roughly before returning to your ass. 

Hotch got a little rougher, meeting your hips rand ocking against his with a thrust beneath you. You could feel him deep within you. Caught in your throat was a moan, but the pleasure was too immense--too good. 

“You have no idea what you were doing to me today in those jeans,” Hotch panted, his lips finding the crook between your shoulder and your neck as he began to meet you thrust for thrust--so deep, so good--so much. 

“Oh,” You squeaked, “I have an idea.” You laughed, breathlessly. 

“Fucking,” Thrust, “Brat.” The sound of your hips smacking. Your thighs sweaty now against him, and your wetness now audible. 

“You love it,” You breathed, your lips going down to his chest now, kissing him and leaving marks of your lips from your lipstick, stained across his chest. 

“Yes,” He thrusted again, sharper now, but the rhythm beginning to falter. “You better hurry up and come,” he said breathlessly. You clenched around him with a glint in your eyes, “I’m serious.” 

Reaching between the two of you, you began working your clit with a circular rhythm that was old faithful in any situation. Hotch’s eyes squeezed shut then open, continuing to meet you. There was a found tempo from the way your fingers circled your clit and the way his hips met yours.

You felt the coil begin to tighten as your orgasm approached. Your thighs began to shake and you threw your head back. Hotch’s fingers bruising your hips continued with each deep thrust. Over and over and over. Just right. 

You came with a gasp, which was then covered by Hotch’s lips kissing you. His hips beginning to lose control as his own orgasm left him. You felt him empty within you, only adding to the sensitivity you felt deep within you. His hips stuttered against you, resting, but your thighs still shaking against him. As if to hold you into place, his hand rested at the small of your back, settleing you. 

A groan left his lips into your mouth, and the two of you slowed with lethargy. As the intensity of the moment ebbed, Hotch's hands gently caressed your skin, soothing and tender in their touch. The two of you were left sweaty and breathless, the aftermath of your passion palpable in the close, humid air of the SUV. His hands moved slowly, tracing patterns across your back and shoulders, each stroke helping to ground you both as you came down from your highs.

The small space of the car, which just moments ago had felt electrifying and exhilarating, now seemed overly warm and confining. As you both caught your breath, the reality of the situation gently settled in—a mixture of amusement and affection hanging between you.

"We definitely need a shower," Hotch murmured, a slight grin playing on his lips as he acknowledged the state both of you were in. The thought of continuing this intimacy in the shower brought a soft smile to your face.

"And maybe a detail for the car," you added, laughing softly, the sound mixing with the faint hum of the idling engine. The humor of the situation wasn't lost on you, and Hotch's responding chuckle told you he felt the same.

"So, I take it you liked the jeans?" you asked, a playful note in your voice.

Hotch glanced at you, a smirk playing on his lips. His eyes held a glint of mischief mixed with undeniable affection. "I loved them," he admitted, his voice low and enticing. "But for the sake of productivity, maybe never wear them again around me if we actually want to get anything done."

His witty response made you laugh, the sound light and carefree. It was moments like these that deepened your connection, mixing playful banter with the intense chemistry you shared. 

Your fingers trace the outline of your lips marked all along his neck and chest from the now-smeared lipstick you had applied moments before. A mischievous smile spread across your face as you pointed them out. "You know, this might be my favorite look on you now," you said, the playful tone in your voice tinged with a hint of satisfaction.

Hotch raised his eyebrows, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he reached up to feel the marks, his fingers brushing over the spots you indicated. The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile, appreciative of your boldness and the memory of the moments that led to such disarray.

"Is that so?" he replied, his voice laced with humor and a warmth that reached his eyes. "I suppose it's a good thing we're heading home then. I might need to wear it more often if it gets that kind of approval."

As you watched the fading lipstick marks on his skin, you leaned closer, a teasing gleam in your eyes. "I like marking what's mine," you murmured, tracing a finger lightly over one of the marks, emphasizing your words.

Hotch looked at you, his expression softening into one of deep affection, the playful retort ready on his lips turning into something far more tender. "Sweetheart, you don't need marks to know I am," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, filled with a sincerity that warmed you through.

You kissed him tenderly there before he patted your bare hip. You smiled against his lips, knowing the two of you had to leave this little intimate cocoon now. “I know, I know,” you sighed against his lips before whimpering, slowly moving off of him, trying not to make an entire mess of his already dirtied car. Hotch groaned, feeling you leave his lap. 

Despite the age gap between you, something about being with you made Hotch feel as though he was losing his innocence all over again; each moment tinged with a freshness and excitement that he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. It was a rediscovery, a rejuvenation of spirit in the best way possible, with every laugh, touch, and shared secret making him feel both wonderfully vulnerable and profoundly alive.

He sure hoped you wore those jeans again. 

[ofbatsandballads]

so it’s a day early but have a little Valentine’s Day with Jason drabble except reader is a bit unhinged and very in love with Jason. inspired by me getting split knuckles and thinking “wow this would be so much cooler if I got them from punching someone.” also idc if damian is ooc here bc you can pry good brothers Jay and Dami from my cold, dead hands.

Jason Todd is used to fighting. He knows thrown fists, black eyes, and bloodied hands better than he knows himself. He’s been fighting so long that it’s second nature; sometimes he tires of the fight and sometimes he aches for it. It all depends on the day and his mood. Sometimes busted knuckles are a pain in the ass to clean and sometimes he enjoys the sting of a job well done.

Jason is used to seeing other people fight. It was the one constant in his formative years. He saw Gotham’s worst fight daily when he was a little kid doing his best to survive the city’s unforgiving streets. He saw Gotham’s best fight nightly and fought alongside him as a bright-eyed teenager. He sees his siblings fight routinely, knows how they do it like he knows the back of his hand. Dick is graceful; he floats through the air before he kicks you in the face. Tim is practical; he hits you where it hurts, seeks to destroy. Damian is ruthless; he toes the line between life and death like he was raised on it. He was; they both were.

Jason has not, however, seen you fight. Until tonight that is. Oh, he’s seen you argue before. You’ve got a smart fucking mouth—he loves it, even when it gets you both in trouble. But physically you’ve always been nothing but gentle and calm. He’s the one that intimidates, that scares off anyone who tries to flirt with either of you with his crossed arms and his face that screams “I’ll kill you”. Yet there you are in the middle of the ballroom where he left you, clutching your fist that has just connected with the nose of some CEO’s son. He freezes for a split second in pure shock. Then his brain comes back online and he’s trying to push through the crowd of people to get to you. His brother beats him to it. Dick picks you up around the waist and swiftly hauls you out of the ballroom.

Jason’s torn between running after you and cornering the guy you just punched to finish what you started. He doesn’t get to make that choice because a small but strong arm grabs him and yanks him hard toward the door that you just got dragged out of. He looks down and sees Damian, and something instinctual about this situation makes him follow wherever the kid goes. It wouldn’t be the first time Damian led him away from a fight and it probably won’t be the last.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jason asks his youngest brother as they wind through the mazelike halls of the penthouse.

“Well, akhi, your beloved just assaulted a man in the middle of father’s Valentine’s Day gala,” Damian responds coolly.

“Yeah, I kinda picked that up, saghir. Why did she assault a man in the middle of the gala?” Jason presses.

Damian bristles at the term of endearment. Jason can tell he’s about two seconds away from arguing that he’s not little anymore, Todd. He seems to consider your hitting a man a more pressing matter, though, because he starts to explain what happened. The guy you punched—some dude named Prescott—had decided it would be a good idea to flirt with you. You turned him down quickly and bluntly with a simple “No, I’m here with my boyfriend.” It all went downhill from there.

“He then asked who her boyfriend was, and when she said you, this imbecile asked why a girl such as herself would be with, quote, ‘a charity case like him’,” Damian relays with thinly veiled disgust.

Jason was used to comments like this. It was all he heard during the three years after Bruce adopted him. It used to make him mad or insecure, like maybe Bruce never truly wanted him. Maybe he just wanted to feel like he was doing something good. But then he died and came back. And he hated B for so long. Until he didn’t. Until he realized that maybe he never did, maybe he just wanted proof that his dad loved him and maybe he felt like he didn’t have it. But with time and patience and a lot of pain, he’s now reasonably assured that he’s not just some billionaire’s charity project. If that were the case, then Bruce would’ve stopped trying a long time ago with him. So the spoiled brat’s comment doesn’t really bother him. He knows that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t bother you, but he can’t figure why it would make you angry enough to deck the guy in the middle of a full ballroom.

“That’s it? She punched him for that?” Jason asks doubtfully.

“No. She first told him that he clearly lacked the empathy to even know what the word charity meant. She also made a snide comment about how his gala attire could, however, be seen as a charity case,” Damian chuckles, clearly amused by your silver tongue.

“Well what’d he say that made her hit him?” Jason demands, his anxiety starting to spike.

He had seen it happen, but he’d been mixing you your favorite cocktail and had missed the actual inciting comment. Damian pauses like he doesn’t want to tell him. All it takes is one hard look with those sea green eyes and Damian finds himself caving like he did as child in the League when Jason would catch him hiding from his newest (and soon to be deceased) sparring partner.

“He said that her tastes shouldn’t be counted considering she was with—” and Damian grits his teeth, forest green eyes absolutely seething, “damaged goods.”

Now that’s a different story. Jason doesn’t care what some privileged rich guy thinks of him, but the idea that other people could see what he already knows hurts. Jason knows he’s damaged goods, knows that you deserve far better than him. And apparently so do total strangers. So how long until you finally see it and leave him like you should have a long time ago? How long until the one truly good thing he’s ever had the pleasure of holding in his hands slips through his fingers and leaves him broken again?

“And then she broke his nose.”

Damian’s jubilant laugh shakes him from the angst he finds himself descending into.

“She what?” Jason asks dumbfounded.

“She broke his nose. I was standing right next to her, Todd. I heard it crack. You’ve trained her well,” Damian says proudly.

Jason’s in awe. You broke someone’s nose. For him. And you did it in front of a room full of people on Valentine’s Day. Jason’s sure this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for him. And either your love for him has finally settled into his bones or his new therapist is actually doing some good, because he’s suddenly not so worried about you up and leaving him because he’s damaged. You fucking clocked a guy for pointing it out.

Finally after what feels like far too long, Damian leads him to a bedroom tucked away in the penthouse. And there you sit, giggling away as Dick wraps your hand in an elastic bandage. You must’ve sprained your wrist breaking poor Prescott’s nose. Jason is by your side in an instant.

“Jason, there you are! Did you see what I did? Did you, Jay?” you ask enthusiastically.

“Yeah, I saw. Think you might’ve broken his nose, baby,” he teases.

He takes the bandages from Dick and starts to wrap your wrist himself. He gestures for his brothers to get the hell out and hopefully go clean up the mess that’s waiting down the winding hallways.

“That piece of shit deserved it. I would’ve hit him again too had Dick not dragged me away. Think I would’ve gone for his throat next,” you muse.

Jason wants to think he’s above finding this new violent streak of yours sexy. He’s also self aware enough to realize that he’d be deluding himself if he said it didn’t make him want to kiss you senseless.

“I’m sure he did, doll. That was very sweet of you, defendin’ my honor ‘n all,” Jason praises you.

“That was nothing. Child’s play, really. I would do anything for you, Jason. You’re my whole world.”

You say it with such sincerity, with so much love that Jason swears your eyes gleam with it. It makes his heart jump into his throat, makes his chest ache with the need to love you until the day that he dies. And if that day comes too soon? Well, he’ll drag himself out of the grave and come back home to you no matter what it takes. He’d like to tell you all that, but he thinks it might be a bit much. He settles for kissing you instead and nudging his nose against yours when you finally break apart to breathe.

“And you’re mine. C’mon, honey, let’s go home. Valentine’s Day isn’t over just yet.”

[ateezscupid]

─── FEB FILTH FEST: I Wanna Be Yours - AGE GAP ♡

SUMMARY / You started to develop a crush on your college professor, but had to distance yourself from him when it turned into more than a silly "crush."

warnings ✩ SMUT, FLUFF, DOM/SUB dynamics, ANGST in the beginning, older!san (35), younger!reader (24), age gap, cliche student x teacher trope, soft dom!san, sub!reader, unprotected sex, vanilla vanilla vanilla, public sex? (nobody sees them but they're in a library), oral (f), praise, size kink, san is basically a gentle giant

word count ✩ 3,89k

tags ✩ @desirehorizon @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @bbdeongi @dawn-iscozy @xh01bri @mallielovssyou @clxssy1997 @soreberry @nopension @kitten4sannie @faeriehwas @lustfxq @ashistrashhhhhh @hwallazia

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST / FEB FILTH FEST

"Y/N? You're my highest ranking student. Do you know the answer?" San's voice cut through the dense silence of the classroom, his gaze landing on you. You felt your cheeks redden as all eyes turned to you. The intensity of his stare made your heart race, and you realized you hadn't heard the question. Panic set in, but you took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

"Um," you blink and sit up straight. "I-I wasn't--I wasn't paying attention." The words tumble out, and you can feel the heat spread from your cheeks to your neck. San's gaze lingers for a moment before he nods and moves on to the next student. You sigh with relief, dropping your eyes to your notebook.

You were only in your 20s, while San was well into his 30s so close to being considered middle aged. Even though, some people consider 35 middle aged, so it honestly didn't matter to you.

Every time you would do as little as fantasize having a life with him, you knew it would never happen. Why would he even date someone that much younger than him? And, even if by some miracle he did, you were his student. It was wrong, unprofessional, and you weren't ready for any rumors to start flying. Plus, he had his career to think about, and you had your future. You had to maintain a respectful distance.

So, one random day, you decided to distance yourself from him and you went as far as to drop out of his class. You switched your major, hoping that would help ease the ache in your heart, but it didn't. San's influence lingered everywhere, in the corridors where you heard his laugh echo, in the library where you had studied together, in the cafeteria where you had shared a table, and even in the quiet solitude of your dorm room where you had dreamed of a life beyond the confines of academia.

And here you were, eating by yourself in the empty library café, surrounded by the ghosts of your past happiness. The scent of stale coffee and dusty books filled your nose, a stark contrast to the fresh scent of San's aftershave that had once made your heart flutter. You pushed the textbook away, unable to focus on the words that blurred before your eyes.

"Y/N?" San's voice called out from behind you, and your heart skipped a beat. You hadn't seen him since the day you dropped his class, and now here he was, standing in the library café, looking more handsome than ever in his tweed jacket and glasses.

"P-Professor-?" you stutter, your voice shaking slightly. You swivel in your chair, trying to compose yourself, but your heart won't cooperate.

"I've been meaning to talk to you but it feels like you're…avoiding me?" San's brow furrowed with genuine concern. His eyes searched yours, looking for an explanation. You felt your throat tighten, unsure of what to say. The truth felt too raw, too embarrassing to admit.

"It's just…I needed to focus on my studies, Professor," you managed to say, hoping the lie wasn't too transparent. "Switching majors has been a bit overwhelming."

"Then why not stay with me?" San asked, his voice gentle but firm. "You had a knack for my class, and I was looking forward to seeing how far you'd go."

"I-It was something personal…" you murmured, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you knew you had to protect him and yourself from the mess your feelings could create. San took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours.

He sits across from you, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of confusion. "Is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with care. You nod, trying to keep your composure, but his closeness is too much to handle. You can feel the warmth emanating from his body, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"I can't say, it's…" You stop mid-sentence, the words lodging in your throat. San's eyes searched yours, and for a moment, you thought he might see the truth. But instead, he offered a small, understanding smile.

"You can tell me anything." San's hand reached out and placed itself gently on top of yours, his thumb tracing comforting circles. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to resist the urge to pull away.

"…I-It's you." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt your cheeks flush even hotter.

San's hand stilled on yours, and he looked surprised, then a soft smile spread across his face. "What do you mean, 'it's me'?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"I mean… I had a crush on you," you blurted out, feeling your heart pound in your chest. The words hung in the air like a confession in a quiet church, and you waited for his reaction, bracing yourself for the worst. "Well, I thought it was a crush until it got…worse."

San's expression grew serious, his smile fading slightly. He removed his hand from yours and leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Worse?" he repeated.

"I know it's inappropriate and wrong," you rushed to explain, your voice barely a whisper. "But I couldn't help it. I had to get away, so I switched majors. I'm sorry if I disappointed you or made things awkward."

San leaned in, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into the background. "Y/N, it's not awkward. It's…unexpected," he said, his voice filled with a hint of something you hadn't heard before—vulnerability. "But it's not unwelcome."

Your heart stuttered in your chest, and you felt your eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

San took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I mean that I've noticed the way you look at me, the way you hang on my every word. And I've felt something too." His voice was low, almost a murmur, as if he was sharing a secret.

The confession hit you like a sledgehammer, leaving you momentarily speechless. You stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. Could it be possible that he felt the same way?

"I've noticed it too, Y/N," San continued, his voice soft and measured. "But I never acted on it because I knew it would be wrong. I've always respected my students' boundaries, and I respect you more than anyone."

"San, please." You whispered his name, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I don't care if I'm your student."

He leaned back again, his gaze dropping to the table. "But I do." His voice was firm, yet tinged with sadness. "It's not just about us. There's the university policy, our careers, and-"

"I've literally fantasized about you." The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt the air thicken around you. San's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his expression softened.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and careful. "You know I care about you. You're an incredible student, and as your teacher, it's my job to support and guide you. But these feelings… They're complicated."

"Do you or do you not like me back?" You blurted out, unable to contain your emotions any longer. The question hung in the air, a silent plea for him to confirm what you hoped was true.

San's gaze remained on you, his eyes searching yours. "I do," he admitted, his voice a mere whisper. "But we can't let it affect our professional relationship."

"Then it won't, but please. I don't care if I have to date you in private." You looked at him with hopeful eyes, desperate for some kind of connection.

San sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving yours. "You don't understand, Y/N. It's not that simple."

You sigh and nod, standing up and grabbing your bag. "I understand," you say, trying to sound firm despite the shakiness in your voice.

He reached across the table and grabbed your arm, his grip firm but gentle. "Please, sit." His eyes searched yours, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You sat back down, your heart racing.

You snatch your arm away and walk around the table so you were face-to-face with him, looking into his eyes. "You don't have to say it," you whispered, your voice shaking with emotion. "Y-You want to stay professional so if all I need to do is stay away from you then I will-"

You were interrupted by San's hand, which he placed on your cheek and before you knew it, he was kissing you. It was a gentle kiss, but filled with so much passion and longing that it stole your breath away. Your eyes closed instinctively, and you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck. The world outside the library faded into a distant memory, and for a moment, all that mattered was the feeling of his lips against yours.

He pulled away for only a moment, his eyes searching your face, looking for permission to continue. You nodded, your eyes brimming with unshed tears of joy. San leaned back in, his lips meeting yours again in a kiss that spoke of a longing that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

The kiss grew more intense, and you felt your knees tremble. It was everything you had ever dreamed of, and the reality was so much better than any fantasy. His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and you felt the warmth of his body against yours. The scent of his cologne, something you had secretly come to adore, filled your senses, and you knew you never wanted to be anywhere else.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, feeling his hands slide down to your waist as the kiss deepened. His fingers traced the curves of your body, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve. San's eyes searched yours, and you knew he was just as lost in the moment as you were.

"Sir," you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt. "W-We're still in the library-"

"And it's empty, right? No one's around," San murmured against your lips, his breath warm and comforting. He took another step closer, his body now pressed against yours, leaving no room for doubt or fear. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest so hard it felt like it might just burst.

He lifted you up without effort, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, and carried you over to a quiet, secluded corner of the library. The soft cushions of an old armchair were a welcome relief as he set you down, his hands never leaving your body. San's gaze was filled with desire, yet tinged with caution.

He started kissing your neck, his hands moving down your body before grabbing your skirt and lifting it. You felt the cold chair against your bare skin and shivered from the excitement. You didn't know what you were doing, but you knew you wanted him.

San's hand slid up your thigh, his thumb brushing against the lace of your panties. You gasped, your eyes snapping open. The reality of the situation hit you like a cold shower. "W-What are we doing?" You whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled back, his gaze searching yours. "I couldn't help myself. If we do this," he said, his voice hoarse with desire, "we can't take it back."

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating his words. Your mind raced with the consequences, but your body craved his touch. "I know," you murmured, nodding slightly. "But I don't want to take it back."

San studied your face, his eyes filled with a mix of want and hesitation. Finally, with a low groan, he leaned in and claimed your mouth again, his hand moving to cup your breast through your shirt. You arched into the touch, a soft moan escaping you. His fingers deftly unhooked your bra, and his hand moved to caress the soft skin, his thumb flicking over your nipple. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt a warm wetness spread between your legs.

You reached your hand as far as you could, tugging at his belt and the buttons of his pants. San's hand moved from your waist to your wrist, stopping you gently. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged. "Let me."

He knelt before you, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushed your skirt higher and slid your panties aside. His touch was featherlight, sending waves of pleasure through your body as he kissed and licked at your inner thighs. You whimpered, the anticipation driving you wild.

Finally, his mouth found your center, and you gasped as he took you in. San's tongue danced over your sensitive flesh, tasting and teasing you until you thought you would lose your mind. Your hands gripped the armrests of the chair, knuckles white from the effort of not pushing him away.

"O-Oh my god, San-" you breathed his name, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. You felt your core clench around nothing, and the sensation was like nothing you had ever experienced before. His movements grew more deliberate, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

His hands caressing your thighs, his eyes remained locked on yours, watching the play of emotions across your face as he worked his magic. You squirmed, unable to hold back the moans that bubbled up from deep within your chest. The warmth of his breath and the flick of his tongue against your most sensitive spot had you teetering on the edge of a cliff, desperately craving release.

"Mmmh!" you gasped as San's tongue worked its way inside of you, stroking you with the perfect amount of pressure and speed. Your legs tightened around him, and you threw your head back, unable to control the sounds escaping your mouth. The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever felt, and you knew you were close to climaxing.

"I-I'm close," you tug at his hair, making sure to avoid his glasses. "Right there, fuck!" You didn't know how to be quiet, the pleasure was too intense. San's eyes flashed with something primal and he groaned against your pussy, the vibrations making you shiver.

With a final flick of his tongue and a suck on your clit, you felt your orgasm crash over you like a wave, your body convulsing as you rode the peak. You clung to the chair, your nails digging into the fabric as the pleasure washed over you in waves. San didn't stop, instead, he kept licking and kissing until you were panting and begging for mercy.

"Please," you gasped, your voice hoarse. "I can't-"

"One more," San murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he slid a finger inside of you, curling it in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head. The sensation was exquisite, and you could feel yourself climbing again, your muscles tightening around his digit. He watched you, his eyes hooded and focused, as he brought you closer to the brink once more.

With a final, deep thrust of his finger, you came again, your body shaking and quivering as the orgasm ripped through you. San sat back on his haunches, his face flushed with arousal as he took in the sight of you, sprawled out on the chair, panting and glowing.

"W-Where'd you learn to do-" you pause, pointing below. "…That…"

San's eyes crinkled at the corners with a hint of amusement. "Sweetie, I'm ten years older than you." he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a fresh wave of heat through your core. "I've had time to learn a few things." He leaned in, kissing you gently before sitting up.

He undoes his tie with swift, practiced movements, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with need. You feel your heart race faster, his words a sweet aphrodisiac.

"Forget what I said earlier about staying professional." he almost growled, fiddling with his belt now. "I could give you everything you need."

You nodded, feeling your own need pulsing through your veins. "But we should be quick," you managed to say, though your voice was thick with lust. "Someone could come in."

"Then you're going to have to stay quiet," San warned with a smoldering look, his eyes dark with desire. He stood up, his pants now unbuttoned, revealing his erection that strained against the fabric of his boxers. You felt your mouth go dry as you stared at him, unable to believe that this was really happening.

He pushed his boxers down just enough for his cock to come out, and you felt your mouth water at the sight of him. San was well endowed, and the way his cock stood proudly before you was incredibly arousing. He stepped closer, and you reached out tentatively to touch him.

Your hand wrapped around his shaft, and he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "You're so big," you murmured, your voice filled with wonder. "And so…strong."

San's hand covered yours, guiding you in a gentle stroking motion. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "But I'll be gentle."

You nodded, feeling a thrill of excitement at his words. He stepped closer, his cock now brushing against your stomach, leaving a trail of wetness. He moves it toward your entrance, and you grip the armrests of the chair tightly, bracing yourself.

"Ready?" San asked, his voice a low growl. You nodded, unable to speak as he pushed into you slowly, filling you up inch by inch. You felt a slight burn, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming feeling of fullness. He was so much larger than anyone you've been with before, and it was a bit terrifying but mostly exhilarating.

He paused, giving you a moment to adjust before pulling out slightly and pushing back in. You let out a soft whimper, and he leaned in to kiss you again, his hand moving to cup your cheek. The gentle gesture helped to ease the tension in your body, and you started to relax into the sensation.

"You feel amazing." San whispered against your lips, his eyes searching yours as he began to move his hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm. You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from crying out as he filled you completely. His movements grew stronger, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

The sound of the chair creaking under the weight of your passion filled the quiet library, the only other noise the muffled sounds of your breathing and the occasional soft whine that slipped from your mouth. San's grip on your hips tightened, his pace increasing as he lost himself in the moment.

"F-Fuck-" you try your best to stay quiet, but it's getting increasingly difficult as San's hips piston into you. The chair squeaks underneath you, and the thought of getting caught is almost too much to handle. You lean back, arching your back, giving him deeper access. San's eyes never leave yours, his strokes becoming more and more demanding as he chases his own release.

He leaned forward, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples. The added sensation was too much, and you bit back a moan as your orgasm began to build once more. San's eyes widened at the sight of you, lost in pleasure, and he picked up the pace, his strokes becoming more urgent.

"Fuck, I love you," you murmur, the words slipping out unbidden. San's eyes flash with something akin to surprise, and then his expression softens.

"I love you too, Y/N," he says, his voice thick with emotion. His thrusts become more urgent, his eyes never leaving yours as he drives you closer to the edge. You feel your body tightening around him, and you know you're about to come again.

"I-I can't-" you whimpered, your voice strained as your second orgasm built up. "Too much-" San's eyes never left yours, his movements becoming more erratic as he felt your muscles tighten around him. You felt his cock swell inside you, and he groaned against your neck.

With one final, deep thrust, San came, his warmth filling you completely. He stilled, his breaths coming out in harsh gasps. You felt your own climax peak and crash over you, your body quivering in his arms. For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing and the beating of your hearts.

San leaned in and kissed you again, this time more tenderly. "I'm sorry," he murmured against your lips. "I didn't mean to go that far. I really just…couldn't help myself."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "It's okay," you whispered, your voice still shaky. "I didn't either."

"You're, uh, on birth control right?" San's voice was filled with concern, breaking the momentary silence.

The reality of the situation washed over you, and you nodded. "Yes, I am."

San let out a sigh of relief, his body relaxing slightly as he pulled out of you. You felt the warmth of him leave you and immediately missed the connection. He bent down and kissed you softly before helping you to stand, adjusting your clothing with gentle hands.

"You, um, really love me?" San's voice was a mix of shock and hope. He held you at arm's length, his eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. The question was a knife to your heart, but you couldn't lie, not now.

"Yeah," you whispered, the truth finally out in the open. "I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't anymore."

San's eyes searched yours for a moment before he sighed happily. "You're adorable." He kissed you again, a smile playing on his lips. "But we have to be careful." He pulled away, looking around the library, reminding you of the precarious situation you were in.

"Whatever, old guy." You playfully punched his arm, trying to lighten the mood. San chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

[thjsrots]

double ended

✧˖*°࿐ Vi x reader

; warnings: sex toys, cuffs, mommy kink, praise, pleading, squirting (nothing crazy), a bit of overstimulation, sub!vi / dom!reader

It was the end of a long day for Vi. She walked in and set her gauntlets down, rolling her neck. You understood how tiring it all was for her, and wanted to do something… different. She was usually the top, but today, you wanted to give her the best night of her life.

You smiled and walked up to her, wrapping your arms around her neck and kissing her softly. “Hi honey, long day?”

“Yeah,” Vi started, sighing. “You could say that.” Her eyes were tired as she looked into yours, squeezing your waist a little. You grabbed her hand and led her to the room.

“I have something for you, wanna see?” You asked, your heartbeat picking up. Her eyebrow raised as she was being dragged into the room.

“What? Of course I wanna see.” She responded, her eyes lighting up a little. You sat her down on the bed, pulled out a box, and rummaged around in it. She tried to peek into it, but you flicked her forehead to get her away.

“Ow! Was that part of the surprise?” She asked, rubbing her forehead.

You rolled your eyes and snickered. “What a baby! That did not hurt.”

“Hurry uuuupppp!” Vi whined, flopping down on the bed, shutting her eyes. You slowly pulled out some handcuffs, a vibrator, and a double ended dildo. You crawled on top of her body, sat down on her lap, and put them in front of her face.

“Mm.. I like where this is going.” Vi said, smirking, eyes still shut as she ran her hands up your thighs.

You giggled. “Open your eyes, Vi.”

Her eyes slightly opened, focused on the objects in front of her, then widened as far as they’d go. She looked at the toys, then at you, then back at the toys. “Angel, what… what’s this?” She asked, her voice a little high pitched.

“Well… you always use my hole, yours never gets much attention. I was thinking we could, you know, do it at the same time.” Your smile was big and bright as you spoke.

Vi cleared her throat as she sat up, still staring at them in your hands. “…Okay. I could get with this,” She started. “I mean, you’ll be the one in the cuffs, right?”

You blinked, then shook your head. “No, all this is for you.”

Silence. Vi was wide eyed once again, gulping hard as those words slipped out of your mouth. “O-Okay, baby.” She responded, visibly nervous.

You smiled again as you pecked her cheek and took off her jacket, getting behind her and massaging her shoulders. They were tight, and not just because of the muscles. You traced her tattoos with your eyes as you did so.

She let out quiet groans of pain and pleasure as you felt her melt underneath your palms.

“See? Look how tense you are, let me take care of you tonight. Okay?” You said, whispering in her ear. You felt her skin prickle up with goosebumps, still kneading into her shoulders.

“Yeah,” Vi started, turning around and putting her hands together for you to cuff up. “Okay, angel.”

You wasted no time as your lips crashed into hers, tasting the saltiness of sweat left behind on them. Your tongues clashed against one another’s as Vi moaned against your mouth. You tugged her shirt up, took it off, then reached down and tightly secured the cuffs around her wrists. You continued to kiss her as she laid down and propped her head up against the pillows. You trailed down to her neck, kissing softly along the side of it as quiet moans escaped Vi’s mouth. You then made your way lower, stopping at her chest as you pulled her bra up, then began to kiss her breasts.

“H-Hey, angel, I think they’re a little—” Vi started, getting cut off by you slipping her nipple inside your mouth. Her back arched a little, a moan escaping her lips. “Sensitive!” You circled your tongue around it, using your other hand to pinch the right one. She squirmed and whined underneath you, hands twitching against the cuffs.

You tugged on her nipple a bit with your mouth before letting it go, still pinching the other. “What a sensitive girl, look how pink and hard they are for me. You must like this, huh?” You teasingly asked, her face red as she nodded.

“Y-Yeah, I like it.”

You kissed down her chest, then past her stomach, and stopping at the hem of her pants. You unzipped and slid them down, leaving her in nothing but boxers. You kissed up her thighs, making her wriggle and open them up more for you. You looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. “What is it? Do you want me to touch you… here?” You palmed at the wet spot on her boxers, making her gasp and look at you with desperation.

“Yes! Yes, right there.” Vi said, bucking her hips a bit.

You smiled at her neediness and pressed harder against her clit, looking for more of a reaction out of her. “Is that any way to ask me to touch you? What do we say?”

She groaned and threw her head back as you pressed onto it. “P-Please, Mommy. Can you please touch me?” She asked, voice tight and desperate, as she looked back into your eyes. Your brain short circuited upon hearing what she said. Heat spread out between your thighs as you heard her call you ‘Mommy’, something you were not expecting.

“What a good girl, asking so politely.” You slid off her underwear and exposed her already dripping cunt, looking like it was begging for any kind of touch. You grinned at the sight of Vi naked, sexually frustrated, and cuffed up. She was all yours to explore. You propped up her legs and spread open her thighs, kissing her sopping wet folds. A strangled sound escaped her lips as she thrusted upwards, trying to get her clit in your mouth.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” You cooed, raising an eyebrow at Vi as her face scrunched up in embarrassment.

“Please make me feel good. Please, Mommy, plea—” Vi’s begs were cut off by your tongue finally grazing over her poor, ignored clit. Her back arched, a broken moan releasing from her mouth. You held her thighs open, squeezing them as your tongue swirled around her clit, occasionally sucking on it to see her reaction. You loved the way she tasted, especially after a long day at work. Tangy, savory, a little salty. It made your mouth water as you licked up her juices. You opened your eyes and looked up. She was staring at you as you devoured her pussy, face full of pleasure and submission, which made you even more wet than you already were.

You suddenly pulled away from her and crawled up her body, hearing her cries for more. “What is it, baby? You want more?” You teased, her watery eyes staring into yours as she nodded.

“Yes! M-More, please more, please!” She pleaded, voice whiny and shaky.

“Okay, alright! Since you asked so nicely…” You moved aside and quickly took off your shirt, then came your shorts and panties, crawling back over her and exposing your own wetness in Vi’s face. You hovered over her chest, the heat from your soaking cunt making her pant like she needed you. You snickered at her flushed face, grabbing the dildo and just barely inserting it inside yourself. “Do you wanna see Mommy getting off a little?”

Vi’s face lit up like Christmas morning. She choked a little before spitting out a, “Yes! Yes I do!”

“Such an eager little thing…” You said, inserting the dildo in as far as it could go. You moaned out softly, throwing your head back as you slowly pumped the toy in and out of you. It made a squelching noise, one that was music to Vi’s ears. She stared the whole time, her gaze only budging to look up at your face, then quickly looking back down at the toy as it slid in and out so easily inside of you.

She whined, pouting as you picked up the pace and began to make circles around your clit with your other hand. You knew she was aching to touch you, to be touched, for you to give her anything and everything you wanted to. The thought of that made you wanna orgasm on the spot.

“Look what you’re doing to me, Violet—” You said as your slick dripped against her breasts, her eyes following the wetness as she let out a hungry moan.

“Mommy,” Vi muttered out, voice quiet. “Can you… put it inside me too, please?”

Her question made you stop mid stroke, smiling at your needy girlfriend. She looked so cute, asked so politely, you just couldn’t say no. “Of course I can, darling.”

You pulled the dildo out and moved down, pulling Vi’s thighs apart as far as they’d go, teasing her hole with the toy’s tip. She let out a few frustrated groans before you slowly began to push it inside her, making her gasp sharply.

“Oh, fuck—” Vi moaned out, back arched and eyes rolling to the back of her head. You weren’t sure if she’d felt this often, since you were the one usually taking it. Imagining this was her first time ever putting anything else inside other than yours or her own fingers—did something to you.

“There’s one rule,” You said, stopping the dildo halfway and making her head snap up to look at you, face full of neediness. You grabbed the vibrator, turned it on, then put it in her hands. “You hold this up to your clit while we fuck each other, if you let it go, I’ll stop touching you and force you to watch me come. Got it?”

“Okay, I got it,” She panted out, pressing herself against the toy further.

“Ah, ah— Okay, what?” You asked as you positioned yourself onto the toy, slowly inserting it inside yourself again.

“Fuck, sorry!” Vi fumbled out. “Okay, Mommy, I got it.”

“My good girl,” You said before sliding it inside yourself then pushing it fully inside Vi’s aching hole, both moaning out loud.

She immediately pressed the vibrator onto her clit as you began to buck your hips, causing the toy to slide up and down between the two of you. Her back was arched sharply, hands shaking as they held on tightly onto the vibrator, her hips starting to buck back and create a smooth motion that constantly hit your two g-spots. You stared at the toy as it stretched Vi’s damp hole out, her walls gripping tightly against it. You fucked against the toy harder at the sight, wishing you could feel her walls tightening around you instead.

“Feels, so, good!” Vi moaned out mid strokes, voice choppy and strained. You’d never seen her this submissive before, never seen her feel this good, you never wanted this to end.

“Yeah, baby, does it? Look at me.” You demanded, your holes practically slopping against each other and juices mixing together now from how deep in the toy was inside the two of you. Vi looked up towards you, opened her eyes, and stared as you fucked yourself against her. Her moans grew louder the more she looked, moving the vibrator up and down along her puffy clit.

“Mommy, it’s—it’s too much!” She cried out, legs beginning to tremble and want to close up. You held them open, fucking even harder against her, feeling yourself getting close every time she whined to you.

“But look how well you’re taking it, darling.” You reached over to the vibrator and sped up the setting. Vi threw her head back, moans turning into screams as her wetness dripped down and met your hole. “You’re making Mommy feel so amazing, you know that?” Your voice was husky but controlled, unlike Vi, who was a ball of whimpers, cries, and moans.

“Am I? A-Am I doing good, Mommy?” Her sentence broken, barely coming out as the intense pleasure took over her brain. You looked her up and down. She was sprawled out, eyes full of desire. She was a blubbering, sweaty, needy mess; and you loved it.

Her hips thrusted forward and hit your spot harshly, making a breathy, loud moan slip out of you. “Yes! Oh, just like that! You’re being such a good girl for Mommy!”

Vi continued to move the way you liked, trying oh so hard to be the best girl she could be for you. Even when being submissive, she still thought about your pleasure first. “I-I think I’m close—” Vi managed to mutter out between desperate moans, her thighs quivering.

“You think, or you know?” You questioned, noticing as her hips bucked harder against the toy.

She nodded quickly, “Y-Yes! Mommy! I’m gonna come!”

“Ask me.” You instructed, feeling yourself closer now too.

Vi’s puppy dog eyes stared into yours, filled with tears, “Please! Please let me come! Please, Mommy, please, I can’t hold it back, please!” She cried out, hot tears streaming down her face as she did her very best to hold it back until you said so.

You smirked at the sight. Waited a couple seconds to savor the moment, then, “Come for me then, darling. Show Mommy what you got.”

As soon as those words slipped out of your mouth, Vi’s back arched as far as it’d go, legs opened up further, and she moaned out, “Fuck, Mommy!”

You suddenly felt a sharp, warm wetness hitting you. As you quickly looked down, you saw Vi squirting along your cunt, making your jaw drop for just a second. That’s when you felt it. You threw your head back, shut your eyes tightly, and moaned, “Violet!” as you reached your orgasm. You felt your come slip out and slobber over the toy, Vi staring at you as you did so. You panted as your head slowly made its way back up and cracked your eyes open, meeting Vi’s gaze.

Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, face full of embarrassment. “Fuck, fuck, I-I think I peed.” She said, her voice trembling. You giggled as you slipped the toy out of yourself, then her, and took the vibrator out of her hands.

“No, honey. That just means you felt really good,” You said as you undid her cuffs, rubbing the red marks they left behind. “It made me finish.”

“Really?” She said between pants, looking proud of herself.

You nodded as you made your way over to her, kissed her forehead, and held her between your chest. She nuzzled in your breasts, holding one in her hand as she closed her eyes.

“You did so good for me, baby,” You cooed as your hands ran through her hair. “Mommy’s so proud.”

You felt Vi’s face heat up against your skin, looking up at you. “T-Thanks, Mommy.”

You held her face and kissed it softly, melting into her lips.

[rafeysdeer]

hiii I really love ur writing I eat it up everytimee ❤️❤️❤️😍😍😛

I was wondering if I could request a Jason Todd like thingy where reader is new to Gotham and she doesnt know her boyfriend (jason) is red hood or who he is really . And one night he just passes out straight in bed without even thinking about his suit and helmet and reader wakes up to this masked man in her bed and is like screaming and being like “wtf who the hell are you” “my bf is huge and he’ll fuck you up” and calling Jason and stuff and he’s just like tf?

Ik this request is like all over the place but I just randomly had this cute idea and I thought you’d eat it up 😍

thankkk uu ❤️❤️❤️

rough night (aka civil!reader x vigilante bf jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: where jason still keeps being a vigilante a secret from you, and you continue to be clueless that your boyfriend is red hood, until one rough night he forgets something a little important.

a/n: omg hi! i'm so happy with your request, sorry that it take so long, but here it is, i love how your mind work btw, hope you like it, i actually don't think my writing is good on this one, but the prompt is amazing! feel free to send requests!

It was a particularly calm night, at least for you, who had already done your bedtime routine, and were curled up in the couch with your favorite book, waiting for your boyfriend.

You watched on the news that there was a chasing, but this is Gotham, there is always a chasing on the news, you may not have lived here for long, but you are used to the special way of the city, fights, deaths and crimes that flooded the city on an ordinary weekday.

As much as you enjoyed waiting for your boyfriend to get home, so you could go to bed with him, he was pretty late today, and it was already late night, sleep was starting to overtake you, the book slowly becoming less interesting and more hazy, finally making you decide it was time to go to bed.

Now, even though Gotham is a dangerous city, and more than anything, unexpected, you definitely didn't expect that on a cool tuesday night you would walk into your room in your pretty pajamas and comfortable robe and find a huge vigilante lying on your bed, comfortable, as if he lived there his whole life.

And no one can blame you that your first reaction was to scream, scream for your life, while the book falls from your hand, you were in complete shock, the vigilante waking up confused as he looks around and finds you wrapped in your pink robe looking absolutely terrified.

"Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment? How did you get into my fucking apartment?" she said frantically as tears began to well up in your eyes as you grabbed the closest thing to you, to defend yourself, which turned out to be the lamp on your nightstand.

And the man lying in your bed looks just as confused as you do, even more, his head tilted to the side, you can't see through the intimidating red helmet, but you're sure if you could, you'd see a huge question mark hanging on his face.

"What do you mean who the hell am I? Have you lost your mind, honey?" And it wasn't until his voice came out modified by the modulator that Jason realized he was still in his full uniform, including his helmet, which explained his girlfriend's complete panic upon seeing him.

"Look, my boyfriend is going to be here any minute, and he's huge and he's going to beat the hell out of you, so please leave."

The words might have been intended to be threatening, but they lost their effect almost instantly when he knew that the boyfriend she was referring to was the one lying on the bed being threatened at that moment, and also by the tears he desperately wanted to wipe from your face.

And, as Gotham is the city of the unexpected, the unexpected happens, and the huge vigilante lying on your bed starts laughing, but not a threatening laugh, or a shy little giggle, he starts to really laugh, the kind of laugh that you throw your head back for laughing so hard, while slowly removing the helmet from his head.

And when your beloved boyfriend reveals himself, the lamp in your hand slowly lowers as your lips part in pure shock.

"Jason? What the hell is going on right now?"

She said while still holding the lamp, and looked at him more confused than ever, and the once scary and threatening vigilante stands up and wraps you in a hug, while you remain in complete shock.

"Did you have any intention to tell me about this at some point?"

Your mind, still recovering from the shock, manages to elaborate and ask, while you return the hug, as tight as you can, still shaking from finding out that your boyfriend is the fucking Red Hood.

"Honey, I'm so sorry, I swear I was going to tell you, I just didn't know if you were going to be ready to hear it, and if you would still be with me after you found out."

"If you would still see me the same way, you would love me the same way"

And now your shock is for a completely different reason, as you pull away from his embrace softly, your brows furrowed in pure indignation.

"Are you kidding me right now? Jason I would love you and be with you even if you were the fucking Batman."

And a comforting smile appears on your face, as you, on your tiptoes, hold his face in your hands as if he was the most precious thing in the world, and for you, he was.

"Jay, I love you regardless of any of this, if you're a secret vigilante at night, your secrets or anything else, because I love you for who you are and I need you to know that."

And now the bright tears in your eyes were for a completely different reason, you just didn't expect him to think that way, when right there in front of you is the man you loved the most in the world.

"God, what did I do to deserve someone like you?" he murmurs into your hair as you're wrapped around each other, you guiding him towards the comfortable bed.

"I ask myself that every day, Jay."

And now, with no secrets and curled up comfortably in each other, as it should be, he whispers to you.

"About that Batman thing, we need to talk."

[your-turn-to-role]

okay so i haven't watched the episode and honestly i don't think i'm going to, there's a lot i've heard about what's happened with vm that i really don't know how i feel about yet

but it's been a long time since the cast were playing c1, huh

like i don't blame them if they've forgotten or moved on from the themes of it, it was a decade ago and sometimes this stuff changes

but as far as the characters go, like. yeah, loving people and losing them was keyleth's worst fear, and they all knew that from the start

vax let the choice to be in a relationship be hers because he didn't want to push her into something that would inevitably be traumatic for her

(and he even apologised when he died because "i've confirmed your worst fears and then some")

but loving vax was the start of her overcoming that! he's always had a huge heart despite the losses he's been through and he wears it on his sleeve. his entire philosophy is best summed up by his quote to vex in 72, when she's beating around the bush about admitting she likes percy, "what the fuck do we have in this world except moments with each other? that's all we've got. [...] you know what's awkward? a life not lived."

when the rest of vm tries to turn inwards and isolate themselves as protection vax drags them back together again because he knows the best remedy for a broken heart isn't to shut yourself off but to love even stronger in spite of it. and keyleth agreeing to be with him was proof some of that got through to her

and then there was kerrek, who saw that she was afraid of every step she took, because she knew she would live to see the consequences, she plotted out everything she did under the assumption she might come to regret it centuries from now. and he told her she had the soul of a gardener, and that was a good thing for a leader to have. but sometimes as a fighter, you need the soul of a blacksmith, who knows that when a project goes wrong you melt it down and try again. and he gave her a ring, as a reminder that even for a gardener, some seeds only flourish after they've been burned

and to the most important episode in keyleth's entire arc, her twisted mirror sprigg. sprigg terrified her because where everyone else looked at him and saw a kooky old man, she saw, in crystal clarity, her future. a retired adventurer who'd shirked his duty out of spite, who lived in utter isolation, all his friends dead so long ago he didn't even remember their names.

but (ignoring for now all the other potential consequences of that particular choice by bells hells) they helped him find himself again. they helped him find meaning in service to ioun, and in ioun's library, where nothing is ever forgotten. and once he was given a reason to remember, he realised none of their names had ever left him. a friendship that meaningful cannot be erased by time, and if you lose it, you can always find it again

she had all the coping mechanisms and support a narrative could provide. and while "how am i supposed to get over you if you keep sending ravens to me?" "i am imperfect, as are the gods" lives forever in my mind, i wonder how the vax of c1 would feel, seeing this

The thing that kills me about Keyleth getting Vax back is how anti character development it is for her.

Her horror at how her increased lifespan will inevitably result in her outliving people she loves is something introduced in campaign one, and losing Vax is the very first taste of that inevitability. Campaign three shows us Keyleth as a woman who has spent thirty years refusing to move on and develop a healthy relationship with grief, still terrified by the prospect of outliving those she loves. And then she gets her dead boyfriend back, and he's immortal now, so she'll never lose him again.

It's pathetic! It's sad! It's kicking the can down the road! What's she gonna do when Percy dies? Grog? Every friend she has besides her immortal dead bf? Is her social circle just gonna close up further and further till it's just her and Vax for a thousand years, because Keyleth never learned how to mourn people she loves while also forming new meaningful relationships, and was in fact rewarded by the narrative for refusing to do so?

[vigilante-3073]

Daddy's Credit Card

Cullen Family x Female Vampire Reader (Platonic)

PART 6

Summary: Edward and Bella's wedding day was fast approaching. Bella begins to struggle with the idea of becoming a vampire. She also wonders what a future with Edward could look like if he continues his turbulent relationship with Y/N.

TW: Mentions of marriage, manipulation, lack of regard for the feelings of others.

Edward stood on the terrace, looking out into the forest and watching the sun rise through the trees. Y/N made her way over to him, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing.

The silence settled easily between them and for a moment it almost felt like it used to. He hoped that their tense exchange from the previous day would be forgotten, but Y/N had never been one for turning over new leaves.

Y/N had always been impulsive and Edward dealt with it well until her impulsivity put Bella at risk.

"That gaudy ring that your human has been parading around with leads me to believe that congratulations are in order... I didn't think you had it in you to make so many life ruining choices in so little time," Y/N stated.

"How did you find out?" Edward asked.

"The real question is why you hid it from me," She replied.

"I didn't hide it," Edward said.

"Did you think I wouldn't come back if you told me you were engaged to her?" Y/N questioned.

Edward hesitated, "I needed you," He stated softly.

Y/N hated that he thought the simple statement justified his lies to her. Edward had never been outright cruel, he moved in the shadows with practiced precision. He kept his hands clean while burying the knife in her flesh like he had done countless times before.

Edward lied by omission, but he knew exactly what he was doing.

"You needed my power, not me," Y/N said.

"I care about you, Y/N... I want you to be here with us," Edward said.

"Where exactly do you think I belong in this perfect life you've created for yourself, hmm? Following you and your wife around until she eventually dies so you're not alone?" Y/N asked, looking over at him.

"I'm turning her into a vampire after the wedding," He said.

"Oh, how sweet of you to consider me when planning your happy life," Y/N replied bitterly.

"Don't patronize me, Y/N," He snapped.

"You started it," She said calmly, straightening up and turning towards him.

Edward huffed, "That wasn't my intention," He said.

"You're a fool, Edward. I have told you that you need to cut her loose and you've chosen to shackle yourself to her instead," Y/N said.

"I love her," Edward stated.

"She is plain... The only thing that makes her interesting to you is the fact that you can't read her mind. The fascination will wear off after a few decades and you will toss her away like chewed gum," She said.

"I would never do that to her," Edward snapped.

"But you did it to me without an issue," Y/N replied coldly.

Edward huffed, "You were a danger to her, Y/N," He said.

"No, I wasn't. If I wanted the girl dead, she'd be dead and you know that," Y/N said.

Y/N was right, she didn't need to be able to use her powers to kill Bella. Y/N may have had some ill intent during their previous interactions, but she hadn't taken any action.

Y/N had been Edward's trusted friend for years and he couldn't imagine a future without her. He loved Bella, but Y/N was family and he wouldn't turn his back on her.

"You're right," Edward muttered.

Y/N looked over at him, almost confused by his response to her, "Did you just agree with me?" She questioned.

Edward shot her a look, "I did, but don't let it go to your head... I know that you haven't been welcoming to Bella but I want to be able to trust you around her. I'm willing to continue our friendship if you are," Edward said.

"Is your little girlfriend going to be okay with this?" Y/N questioned.

"It doesn't matter. You're one of the most important people in my life and she'll have to deal with it," Edward said.

Y/N smirked, "Already picking favorites before you're even married... Good luck with the wedding," She said, stepping away from the railing and moving inside.

Edward lingered on the balcony, he felt unsettled after their interaction and he couldn't pinpoint why. Y/N knew about Edward's engagement and the plan to change Bella after the wedding which had been his biggest cause for concern.

No one in the family had told her, which meant that the news had come from Bella directly. Edward's relationship with Bella had been strained lately and an unsupervised interaction with Y/N could definitely explain it.

Bella hadn't been sleeping, her nights were filled with bad dreams and restless sleep. When Edward asked her about what was worrying her, she brushed him off and told him that everything was fine. Edward hated not knowing what she was thinking, she had been quiet and it worried him.

There had been no yelling or use of excessive force during his conversation with Y/N which should have made him feel better about their situation, but it didn't.

They were in uncharted territory and Edward couldn't help but feel on edge. Bella was still an undoubtedly fragile human and he just needed to keep her safe until the wedding. After that, she would be a vampire and a permanent part of the Cullen family.

Edward suddenly stiffened when he realized where Y/N had gone. She would do anything she could to push him and Bella further apart, even if it meant using his own words against him.

...

Edward raced to town and arrived in Bella's bedroom quickly, Y/N was sitting in a chair while the young human hovered awkwardly by the door.

"Hello, Edward. I was just updating your human on the details of our talk. I think you have a couple things that need to be discussed," Y/N said, standing up from the chair.

Edward grabbed her wrist, "Why would you do this?" He asked angrily.

"I just think everyone needs to know where they stand before our friendship can continue. The human agrees, don't you?" Y/N asked, looking over at Bella.

"Leave her out of this," Edward snapped, grip tightening on her wrist.

"Stop it, both of you. My god, you're like children and it's ridiculous," Bella said, Edward released Y/N's arm.

"Look, she's right about knowing where everyone stands, but I know that she only came here to try and mess with my head," Bella stated.

"Not as stupid as she looks," Y/N muttered.

"Shut up," Edward snapped.

"Can you go? You've caused a sufficient amount of issues now, Y/N," Bella mumbled, shifting uncomfortably on her feet and crossing her arms.

"It would be my pleasure," She said, turning her attention to Edward.

"Have fun cleaning up the mess you've created, Edward," Y/N smiled, disappearing without another word.

Edward let out a huff, "Bella, I was going to tell you about reaching out to her," He started.

"When?" Bella asked, making her way over to him.

"You haven't been sleeping lately and I didn't want to add another thing onto your plate," Edward said.

"I haven't been sleeping because of all of this," Bella said, gesturing between them, "She hates me and she's getting in my head about everything. I have nightmares that she kills me before I make it to the altar," Bella said.

"She wouldn't do that," Edward stated.

"I think you're seriously underestimating her, Edward," Bella said, shaking her head.

"Y/N has a problem with me, not you. I haven't been entirely honest with her lately and that's on me," Edward stated.

"Why are you keeping things from her? If she's really your friend, you should be able to tell her everything," Bella said.

"Y/N and I have a complicated relationship, Bella. I can't just abandon her and I need you to respect that," He said.

Bella huffed, "What if I said 'it's her or me'?" She questioned.

Edward faltered, opening his mouth before quickly closing it again. He didn't know what to say, he assumed that the answer would be easy but he hesitated.

Edward had never allowed himself to think about fully giving up on Y/N. He didn't love her, but she was his best friend. He felt like he was missing something when she wasn't around.

Having Y/N disappear from his life had proved to him that he would never be ready to close the door on her.

"Wow... I don't even know what to say," She muttered, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

"I don't love her, Bella, but she's my best friend and I won't abandon her," Edward said.

"She's a big girl, Edward. I'm sure she can handle it," Bella stated.

"No, she can't," Edward snapped.

Bella looked shocked before she let out a shaky exhale, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you... I just- This is something I am not willing to compromise on. Y/N has been through a lot and I owe it to her," Edward said.

"Fine, but I need to know that nothing is going to happen before or during the wedding," Bella said.

"I promise," Edward nodded.

Bella hoped that she could trust him, but the nightmares continued to plague her. She wanted to tell him that he needed to choose her, but his mind was made up.

His hesitation when she asked him to pick between her and Y/N only served to solidify her doubts. When she put him on the spot, he picked Y/N and in high pressure situations he was likely to do the same thing.

The wedding was only days away and a pit was beginning to form in her stomach. Marriage was one thing, but becoming a vampire was not something that she could opt out of easily. Edward put a lot of weight into the idea of marriage and once she became like him, she would be stuck.

Bella couldn't walk away from him after he gave her immortality. She also struggled to cope with the idea of having her entire life be stuck in such a toxic loop.

Y/N was reactive and manipulative, pushing them apart whenever they got closer to one another. She was possessive of Edward and had some serious issues that would interfere with their relationship for the foreseeable future.

Bella hoped that things would fall into place, but she was beginning to feel like they never would.

...

Edward and Bella were getting married tomorrow. Alice had planned absolutely everything for the wedding. She took care of the guest list, the invitations, the flowers, the dress and everything in between.

The property of the Cullen house had been fully transformed for the wedding. Intricate flowers were hanging from overhead and a beautiful arch had been created for them to get married under.

Bella was still having nightmares, but refused to acknowledge them as the wedding day approached. Bella hadn't heard a peep from Y/N since she meddled in their relationship after her conversation with Edward.

Y/N had moved back into the Cullen house, but had been keeping to herself for the most part. Bella was almost beginning to wonder if Edward was keeping her in check or if she was quiet for a more malicious reason.

Edward visited Bella in her bedroom before his bachelor party and they talked about his past. The conversation threw her off, it almost seemed like he was trying to give her a reason to call off their engagement.

Their relationship was still tense, but it was starting to go back to the way it had been. Despite Y/N trying to get under Bella's skin about Edward reaching out to her, the conversation had actually helped.

They were able to lay their cards on the table and be honest. Edward's connection to Y/N was complex and problematic but it was always going to exist. Their conversation lifted some of the weight from her shoulders, but hadn't relieved it entirely.

Bella sent him off to his brothers for his bachelor party before settling in for a night of restless sleep. Edward's bachelor party involved a rather entertaining hunt and some juvenile behavior with his brothers until the sun began to rise.

Edward walked through the forest on his way back to the Cullen house with Jasper and Emmett. Morning dew glistened on the greenery and birds began to chirp in the trees.

"I wonder what Y/N is going to get up to today. That's one hell of a wild card to have at your wedding," Emmett said with a smirk.

"She's not going to try anything," Edward stated.

"You sure about that?" Jasper questioned.

Edward huffed, "I don't know what she's up to lately," He said.

"Might be best to put Carlisle on Y/N duty. He can keep an eye on her for you," Emmett said.

"If I do that she'll think I don't trust her," Edward said.

"But you don't," Emmett stated, climbing over a fallen tree trunk.

"I don't want her to know that," Edward shrugged.

"I'm glad she's moving back in. I missed having her around," Emmett said.

"Me too," Jasper nodded, "She's fun and she makes you loosen up a bit," He said, looking over at Edward.

"She hates Bella," Edward stated.

"Nah, I don't think so. Just seems like she's trying to keep you from doing something stupid," Emmett said, Edward shot him a glare.

"Hey, I don't think it's stupid, but she definitely does," Emmett said, holding his hands up.

Edward huffed, "I'll talk to her. She has to know how important the wedding is to us," He said.

"Good luck with that," Jasper smirked.

The trio fell silent as they approached the Cullen house, splitting off into their respective rooms while Edward made his way to Y/N's bedroom.

He knew that Emmett was right and he needed to talk to Y/N. She had been far too quiet for it to mean anything good. He knocked on her door gently, lowering his hand and waiting for her to reply from inside.

Edward knew she was in her room and the silence frustrated him. Edward opened the door after a moment had passed, Y/N was sitting in her armchair with a book in her lap.

"No response means no one's home," Y/N muttered, flipping the page in her book.

Edward stepped into her room, closing the door behind himself, "I need to talk to you," He said.

"Well, if I wanted to talk to you I would've opened the door," Y/N replied.

"I'm getting married today and I need you to promise me that you won't do anything stupid," Edward said.

"I'm not willing to make that promise, Edward," Y/N stated.

"I can't have you there if you're going to pose a risk to the humans we've invited," He said.

"Uninvite me then," She said, closing her book and looking up at him.

Edward huffed, "You're my friend and I want you to be there. I don't think it's an outlandish request to ask you to behave," Edward said.

"Clearly you haven't met me," Y/N stated.

"I thought we were starting over after our last conversation," He said.

"Are you talking about the conversation where you invited me to be a third wheel in your marriage? Because I don't consider that to be a promising jumping off point for us," Y/N stated.

Edward shook his head, "You're insufferable, you know that? I have been bending over backwards trying to make things work between us and you don't care," He said.

"You brought me here under false pretenses, Edward. You have dragged me along like a fish on a hook for half a century. Forgive me for making you grovel a little bit," Y/N snapped.

"You're a hypocrite... You talk about the things that I've done, but what about you? You haven't always had good intentions with me either," Edward stated.

"We're both awful people, but at least I'm willing to admit it," She shrugged.

Edward sighed, "I don't want to fight with you, Y/N. I just want us to be civil and I would like to have you at the wedding," He said.

"I'll go, but I can't promise to be happy about it," Y/N replied.

"That's all I ask," Edward said.

[hersuniverse]

KITTEN

SevikaxReader

warnings: MDNI 18+, PWP SMUT!!!, scissoring, masturbation (r), cunnilingus (r!receiving), reader is quite desperate and pervy a lil idk?, afab!reader, no use of y/n, mentions of drinking/alcohol, reader isn't described physically (does that make sense?), reader is younger than Sevika but still of age

author's note: I don't know how to feel about this one guys? I rewrote it like 3 times. This is my first actual smut attempt so please, SPARE ME 😭🙏

You remember the first time you’d laid eyes on Sevika, you were young, early twenties and she of course was older than you were but that didn’t bother you all that much.

You’d admire her from afar, only hoping she’d somehow sense your presence and take you in with open arms; though you knew  that’d never happen. You’d see her with Vander most of the time, of course that was before Zaun fell apart. The night she emancipated herself from Vander you watched her in all her glory, the tall broad proposed that Zaun should strike back against Piltover to which Vander disapproved, you didn’t hear too much of what they were saying, far too focused on the woman’s physique. 

Life wasn’t easy to navigate, always feeling too out of focus to grasp reality but there was one thing you understood about yourself and it was when you craved something or someone; and for you, that someone was Sevika. You also knew how controversial it would be for you to be with a woman of such age and power, but something deep down hoped she’d overlook that and keep you safe in her pocket like a silk handkerchief  she’d use when she needed one.

You could only imagine what she was like, her personality, her habits, her smells and her flavours, it made you all that much more curious. 

-

As Zaun grew dark, you grew older and with age came what some would call wisdom and knowledge but to you it was simply life experience and common sense. You got a job working at ‘Marty’s Muck’ stand, it wasn’t easy standing in front of hot stoves for hours but you needed to survive somehow. That didn’t stop your mind from clouding with thought of Sevika, you hadn’t seen her since her argument with vander all those years ago but you kept thinking. 

Thinking turned to dreaming, fantasizing about how you’d interact with her, would she indulge in someone like you? If she did you wouldn’t stop her, you’d do everything in your power to keep her happy. You’d cherish her even if she didn’t do the same for you, you just craved to be in her space as someone more than a friend.

You’d lay in your bed, the only light from the signs shining outside your window. Breath’s heavy, heart racing and a killer ache that you couldn’t seem to ignore. You’d squeeze your eyes shut trying to think of other things to focus on but the only thing that came to mind was her. You sighed in defeat, opening your eyes and staring at the white oblivion above. 

“Forgive me,” You’d whisper to yourself before slowly slipping a hand down your night shorts, an embarrassing amount of slick had built up and the need for release had only grown. You shut your eyes once more letting your mind run wild with inevitable thoughts of the woman, you relished in the idea of her using you solely for her own pleasure.

She’d flip you every which way, take you anywhere and with absolute pride. The image of her sly smirk flashed  through your mind, your hand picking up speed while you gripped the pillow you rested your head on. 

She’d be good at what she did, of course she would at her age she’d know the spots on you that you didn’t know existed. You’d dig your nails into her back leaving scars that she’d wear with pride, she’d leave hickeys in places only you’d be able to see and run your fingers over when you’d miss her. Your stomach tightened, yet you still kept up the pace knowing what was soon to come. 

She wouldn’t be rough all the time, no, there’d be nights where it would be simply passion and not stress. She’d make a mess of you and you’d wonder where your place was in this world, she’d make you feel dirty but in the best way possible. Maybe she’d bring you out to a brothel, pay one of the girls and have you sit back and watch what it means to please. Your back arched off the mattress, you moved your hand from your pillow to your mouth, biting down on the skin in hopes of muffling your noises. 

She wouldn’t let that happen, she’d make sure every single sound was heard and she wouldn’t care how overstimulated you were; if she wanted to fuck you she would.

And there it was, the wave bliss washing over you like the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud. It felt fucking amazing, of course it wasn’t the first time you’d acted so pervy but you just couldn’t help it; the idea of Sevika was insatiable.

-

You arrived to work two hours late the next day, your orgasm from the night before was clearly needed. You frantically apologized to Marty and claimed it was your alarm clock, which was a half truth you didn’t set the clock before blacking out last night but you would’ve done so if you weren’t so fucking horny. 

“I’ll work late tonight, promise!” You offered, which you would later regret.

The stand was dead, and it was as late as ever. You were tidying up the place when you heard a harsh thump from behind you. You let out a quiet huff “What can I grab for you toda-” You turned around to find Sevika, beaten and battered and with a  mechanical arm sitting down at your stand. 

“Can a lady get a hand here?” She groaned, clearly out of it. 

You didn't know what else to do, so you quickly locked up shop and attempted to safely get her back to your place. It wasn’t easy seeing as she weighed three times your size but you didn’t care, you wanted to help. You spent that night patching her up in your living room, you tried to ask her what happened but she kept dodging your questions with snarky remarks and those stupid sexy smirks of hers.  

Funny, the woman you were just getting off too last night was now in your house. You patched her the best you could, you tried to stay focused but the contorted faces she’d make whenever  you’d apply rubbing alcohol to an open wound only made you more curious. 

Once you’d fixed her up to the best of your abilities, you took into account the large metal arm she now had. It was damaged and you weren’t exactly a handyman, you reached over to the damaged prosthetic trying to get a closer look. 

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll fix it…” She stirred in her spot on the couch trying to get comfortable, her heavy eyes slowly shutting. You didn’t bother disturbing her, simply grabbing an extra blanket and draping it over her sleeping figure. Pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, you admired her bruised face, noticing what you assumed was a vein that had raised and was glowing purple a bit? 

You discarded the detail, you returned to your room changing into your pj’s and laying on your bed, you stared up at the ceiling. You felt guilty and a bit perverted after the night before, the thought of your behaviour made you curl up under the sheets and hope you’d somehow feel a bit better. 

The next morning was lonely, when you woke up you’d walked out to the living room expecting Sevika to still be there whether she was awake or still asleep. Unfortunately for you that wasn’t the case , she was nowhere to be found when you entered the living room, just a discarded blanket and an open window. 

-

That would be just the beginning, you started dropping by ‘The Last Drop’ usually just to get one drink for the road but you’d never stick to that plan, especially when she came around. The first time, she joined you at the bar side, thanking you for your good deed and offering you another drink which you took thankfully. 

That would become a regular occurrence for the two of you, when you’d catch her at the Bar of course. Some nights you’d go home unlucky because she’d be out at work, you didn’t know exactly what she did for work but you didn’t bother to ask too many questions. 

That was until one night in particular she joined you at the bar, rather giddy compared to other nights and a bit handsy too. Sometimes she’d put an arm around you or your chair for that matter, rest a hand on your shoulder when trying to be dramatic or rest her hand on top of yours; not tonight though. 

She slunk her hand around your lower back as she listened to you intently with a smile, you’d catch her eyeing you sometimes which you tried to ignore but how could you with such close proximity and that same ache between your legs. 

She’d say subtle things, like how much she liked your outfit and how cute you were. You wondered if she could see you squirming in your spot, trying to fix your slicked underwear, anything to make it feel a bit more comfortable. She smirked.

“You’re so cute and bright eyed, like a kitten.” You could feel your heart ready to burst.

She later offered to walk you home and of course how could you turn down an offer like that?

The walk was something, you guys walked around the lanes taking your sweet time to get home. You admired Sevika in the street lights, over the past few weeks you’ve been taking her in little by little, spotting more details about her as time went on. Her little reaction to things, scratches in her prosthetic arm and patterns in her drinking habit. 

There was so much you were learning about her, but there was still more that you had yet to learn of. 

Once you finally reached your door, you stood in front of Sevika, there was a thick tension all of a sudden; if you hadn’t noticed it earlier you sure did now, you bit the inside of your cheek feeling a bit embarrassed at your feeling of need. 

“Are you still with me, kitten?” You had zoned out on her, you apologized claiming you were just tired after a long day and she smiled at you. She told you goodnight before starting her walk away from you. 

“Sevika wait,” She stopped dead in her tracks before turning back to you, you moved quickly pulling her into a needy kiss and thanked whoever was above that she returned the same gesture. She pulled you into her and started to walk backwards to your door. 

You both wasted no time, discarding your garments after stepping through the front door. You stumbled over to the couch where she kept you pinned beneath her, she travelled down your body quickly, your desperation got the better of you as you were unable to lay still as she did.

She couldn’t be more charmed when she pulled your underwear down your legs, revealing your cunt that was humiliatingly drenched. You whined at the feeling of your core being exposed to the cold air, which was soon followed by a sharp gasp at the feeling of warmth between your thighs; Sevika was going to town. 

It was just like your dreams, messy yet perfect. Her tongue worked miracles that you could only be thankful for, you bucked up into her so much to the point that she placed her hands on your hips to keep you place, helping her leverage, you felt the cold metal against your skin, causing shivers to coral across your skin. You raked your nails through her scalp before reaching the back of her neck, you dug your nails into the nape while throwing your head back. You could feel her chuckle against you. 

You hadn’t gotten a good head in a long time, or at all for that matter. What Sevika had done was more than just regular pussy eating, no, this was an art form one she’d probably practiced on many other women just to get it right but you could care less. The woman of your dreams was in between your thighs devouring you like a last meal, your dreams were playing out before your eyes and god where you happy. 

Things were picking up, you could feel that knot building but it wasn’t the same, of course it wasn’t it wasn’t your hand rubbing circles into your usual spots; this was a woman with the intention of making you come for her own pleasure and you wouldn’t deny her that. 

With an arch in your back and a loud moan of her name, you tipped over the edge you’d been teetering on. It was like heaven, you didn’t bother fighting or holding out, you didn’t want to disappoint her after all. You caught her looking down at you while cleaning her mouth and licking your residue off her fingers.

“You can do one more, right Kitten?” You nodded frantically as your chest heaved trying to catch your breath, you were desperate to please and be pleased. She pulled your bra down, freeing your boobs and giving them a light squeeze. “So soft,” she commented. You rested your hands on her wrists as she gave you a quick massage. Once she’d let go, it didn’t take long for her to remove her own underwear and toss it somewhere in the room, she spread your legs giving herself enough room to settle between them, the cold metal causing you to suck in a  short breath. 

She held one leg over her shoulder as the other rested against the couch. “Ready?” giving her another nod, you pulled your bottom lip in with your top teeth, watching her settle herself against you. A noise escaped you both, the pressure from her cunt on top of yours was everything, you tried moving against her but she had other plans. 

She grinded against you with no desire of being gentle, she just wanted to fuck you and you let her. “Fuck!” You moaned as she began picking up her pace, the room was filled with moaned profanities coming from you both and the sound of your two slick coated cunts rubbing against each other. 

You moved your hands to her hips, trying to ground yourself as you felt like your mind was slowly melting with each hump. You watched Sevika fuck you, letting the image burn itself ito your mind for later purposes. Your pussy was glossed in juices from the both of you, you couldn’t remember the last time it’d looked this good against someone else. 

You could feel yourself approaching that same edge again and you could tell that Sevika was too, she was slowly getting sloppy with her thrusts and had placed a hand on your waist to stay balanced. “Go on, Kitten, give me what I want.” And you did just that. 

Your back arched off the couch once more, if not higher this time, you gripped the couch cushion for dear life as you threw your head back, she could feel you twitching against her as she delivered her last few grinds against your core. “Vika!” You called, she perked her head up, caught off guard by the nickname but still coming nonetheless. 

She laid down on top of you, both of you breathless and coated in a light layer of sweat, she rested her head on your stomach. “That was good.” You said, trying to coax a conversation out of her before you both fell asleep. 

“I know.” She hummed, obviously tired. You moved your hands to her back, caressing different shapes into her skin. Sevika was soon sound asleep against your skin, light snores filling the room. You smiled to yourself before joining her in her slumber. 

You felt whole for a moment, like nothing bad could ever happen to you because she was there with you. You slowly close your eyes and drifted off to sleep, your dreams were filled ith the image of Sevika fucking you dumb, whether it was over a counter or in your bed your mind showed it all. 

-

Once you’d woken from your wet dream saga, you found yourself on the couch alone. The same blanket you’d let her borrow draped over you. You sat up confused, hugging the sheet under your arms and rushing to get up and look around. 

“Sevika?” You called a numerous amount of times as you searched your place, she was just nowhere to be found. That’s when you realized the window was open, letting in a light breeze, you felt slightly hurt by the gesture but who knows, she probably had work. 

You searched around your living room picking up your clothes from last night in attempts to start tidying but seemingly unable to locate…your underwear?

[theambitiouswoman]

Want to change your self image? Try adopting an alter ego 😎

Anxiety, doubting yourself & impulsivity can all feel overwhelming at times. But did you know that adopting an alter ego can significantly reduce anxiety & improve self control? This psychological technique has been proven to help people detach from immediate stressors & approach challenges with a calm rational mindset. By imagining yourself as a confident or composed persona, you can create emotional distance from stress & become more resilient in tough situations. Because it’s not you, it’s your alter ego.

This approach works because it reframes how you view yourself. Instead of being bogged down by negative our thoughts & self criticism, you take on a new identity—one that helps you navigate life’s obstacles with a clear mind. A lot of celebrities, athletes, performers & successful people actually create alter egos and talk about them in third person. This helps give them confidence and create a meticulous ideal image.

HOW TO BUILD HIM/HER

Accept your current self image—

Before you can change, you need to acknowledge where you are. Accept your current self as your starting point. This step is crucial because you can’t truly move forward if you’re not honest about where you are right now. Without judgment, accept who you are in this moment and recognize it as the foundation for your new transformation.

Decide who you want to become—

Next, think about where you want to end up. Who inspires you? What qualities do they have that you admire? Why do they inspire you? Use these questions to shape your vision of your alter ego. Picture the version of yourself who has all the traits you desire—confidence, calmness, resilience, or whatever else speaks to you.

Creating a new self image is about envisioning the person you want to be & identifying the qualities that make them stand out. This alter ego isn’t about pretending to be someone else—it’s about stepping into the best version of yourself & becoming that person, day by day.

Break the new self image into behaviors—

Now, it’s time to turn your vision into action. How would your new self behave? What habits would they have? Would they spend their time differently? How would they respond to challenges? To make your alter ego a reality, you need to translate these qualities into concrete behaviors.

Start by focusing on building one habit at a time. For example, if your alter ego is confident, what actions would they take that reflect that confidence? Would they speak up more often? Would they take more risks? How would they handle setbacks?

Ask yourself questions like: If I were already this new version of myself, how would I spend my day? What would I stop doing? What would I prioritize? The answers to these questions will show the behaviors that align with your alter ego. Once you adopt these behaviors and turn them into habits, your new self image will begin to take shape.

Consistency is Key—

Transforming into your alter ego takes time, and it won’t happen overnight. The more you practice these new behaviors, the more they will become second nature. But consistency is key—stick with the habits, and slowly but surely. you’ll start to embody the qualities of your alter ego. You’ll notice a shift in your mindset, your confidence & your ability to handle challenges.

Adopting an alter ego creates emotional distance from your current challenges. It helps you detach from the negative emotions tied to anxiety, self doubt & impulsivity. When you view yourself through the lens of this new persona, you can approach life’s obstacles with a clearer mind and more emotional resilience.

Go be them :)