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ruskaroma · 1 year

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ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn��t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick fanfiction #john wick imagine #john wick fanfic #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x you #john wick 4 #keanu reeves #john wick smut #ochl #my works

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revehae · 2 months

Text

party monster

pairing ↠ best friend!jennie x (f) reader (but not really)

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, thoughts of noncon, sub!jennie, oral, noncon recording, monsterfucking

summary ↠ for years you’ve crushed on jennie kim, your best friend, the queen of queens, the party monster. but it seems that you’re not exactly her type.

wc ↠ 3.3k

a/n ↠ this is my first time writing this kind of fic in 6 months so i am unfortunately quite rusty…

don’t like it, don’t read.

she looked like royalty on top of him.

you couldn’t deny it - you could never deny jennie anything. how could you? she was funny, enchanting, downright beautiful, and she was your friend of many years.

your best friend, to be exact. it was a title you were proud to claim, one you had never taken for granted. you had always been there, whether she needed to laugh or she needed to cry, and you would always be there for whatever she needed.

but apparently, she didn’t need you for this.

it was not your intention to find her this way, to be fair. in your search for an empty bathroom, chance had led you to the one connected to the bedroom your best friend and her boy toy occupied. you had only come here in need of relief, but in her own way, jennie yearned for something similar.

yet so different all at once. you knew her voice when it came to your ears, even if it was at a pitch and with a breathlessness you had never quite heard, and your curiosity had gotten the better of you. they must have been too lost in the haze of their arousal, because they never seemed to notice they’d left the bathroom door open for all the world to see.

and you did see. you saw her on top of this nameless boy, her cashmere dress in a heap on the floor, sweat gathering at her soft skin and glimmering in the moonlight like precious pearls. you saw how pleasure took her by its gnarled hand, her lips crying the cries of angels. you saw how his greedy hands were all over her, touching her, surely not knowing just how lucky he was.

you could only stand there, trembling with the intensity of an emotion you had never known this deeply. there was a hot throb in your chest as cruelly it tightened, and in the same moment you could hear this nameless boy swearing about how tightly she was wound around him.

in that moment, she had taken a form you had never seen of her before, becoming a thing so violently unknown to you, and all you could think about was how none of it was for you. it was certainly not the first time she’d whored herself out to someone that wasn’t you, but seeing it happen in front of you was different than being regaled on the tales.

those boys were faceless, something you could convince yourself never existed as you pictured only jennie’s cries of ecstasy. even now, this nameless boy wasn’t so nameless anymore as you heard it fall brokenly from her lips.

but it’s okay, you consoled yourself, turning away from the door. you could fix her.

that had been three months ago at least. you were still doing everything in your power to come up with something to salvage your broken heart with, in spite of already knowing jennie got around, but you had come short of viable options.

and like that fateful night all those months before, you were at another party, because nights in new york were when party monsters like jennie came to life. and as to expected of her, she’d strutted inside sporting this lacy dress, the same vibrant red color as her lips.

she was stunning in red.

it was something you had told her more than once. you took your role as jennie’s best friend as though you were the queen’s aide, and in a way, that wasn’t so far from the truth. she was the queen of queens, the party monster, and a woman of her caliber had to look nothing less than like art at every party she set foot on.

that red cashmere dress lived in your head. you had been the one help her decide, and yet some boy had been the one to take it off.

“hey, where’s jen?” rosé asked, poking her head around the corner.

“no idea,” lisa said, finishing what was left of her exquisite wine.

the two girls glanced toward you. of course they did; you were jennie’s best friend. apparently, you were supposed to know what she was up to at all times.

you sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and sitting your drink on the table. “i’ll look,” you started. “but if she’s somewhere getting dicked down again, you’re going to make an enemy out of me.”

rosé blew you a kiss. “thanks, beautiful.”

“yeah, yeah,” you grumbled, giving your drink one last longful glance as you stepped out of the room.

you took a guess that rosé had come from the main hall and if she hadn’t scouted jennie there, then there was a fair chance she was in one of the upstairs rooms. getting dicked down, you thought disheartenedly, but you searched nonetheless.

you had only seen her that way once and it was something you surely never wanted to see ever again. the memory of the thunder in your chest still lingered and maybe the feeling itself hadn’t exactly faded.

what would it take for her to understand that she was yours? she may not have realized it yet, but you were everything she needed. you could please her in ways she’d never imagined, take her to heights that’d never before been.

you stilled when you heard her voice, almost walking straight past the door. it was of some kind of relief that there were no moans, and she seemed to be quietly chatting about something. with the door barely open, you slipped inside, hoping that it wouldn’t creak.

it took all of two seconds to recognize her, standing at the edge of the bed, but there were no words to describe the horror on your face when you saw the thing next to her.

deep black in color, draped in some slick, indigo substance that coated it smoothly, and towering two feet over her. teeth that could kill with one slight graze. it didn’t look of this world. and yet, jennie didn’t seem afraid; she looked exasperated.

“i thought i told you to stay home,” she hissed, glaring up at the creature. whatever the hell it was.

the alien-like creature seemed indifferent, from what you could make of its features. “hungry,” was all it said.

jennie didn’t seem impressed. “you were fed before i left.”

“hungry,” it repeated, raspier, brushing a long finger down her dress.

jennie slapped its hand away, shaking her head. “no, not here. there’s people, carnal.”

carnal said nothing, overcome by a need that went beyond the bounds of human desire, and returned its finger to her dress. for a second, you thought that it would tear it to shreds, but instead it unzipped the back quicker than she could dispute.

you could hear her whining, but carnal was intent on taking and little would come between that purpose. jennie gasped when it took her by the arm and tugged her onto the floor, silently demanding in its approach, all the while her pretty red dress was tossed into oblivion.

for whatever reason, the sight hadn’t troubled you like it did not too many moons ago. it intrigued you. part of you wanted to emerge from the cloak of the shadows to rescue her from this creature, but the other wanted to watch and see how this would unfold.

jennie’s eyes burned fiercely of ire. “i won’t do it.”

carnal glanced down at her and you swore the sight gave you shivers, but jennie didn’t move. “no?”

“no.”

you had to restrain yourself from gasping when carnal grabbed jennie by strands of hair at the back of her head. it forced her mouth onto its cock, a death grip on her tresses. her whimpers of protest were muffled, meaningless little sounds that no one would bother to hear.

it would be a lie to do otherwise, and thus you had to confess to yourself that you were bemused by the sheer size of its girthy cock. jennie could hardly fit anything an inch longer than the tip into her mouth. it stroked her limits, sped right by them.

but the part that bemused you even further was how after a minute or three, jennie didn’t seem to hate it. there was no way in hell your eyes were making up the way she sucked in every bit she could take, eagerly bobbing her head.

the muffled cries waned into muffled moans, and for no good reason. no efforts were being taken to please her in return. she was this meek little thing on her knees before an otherworldly creature with a name far too apt.

carnal did not react too strongly, but you had to assume that jennie’s potent greed did a number on it. she wasn’t going anywhere, yet the death grip on her hair only got tighter. what she couldn’t fit between her stained lips, she took in her hands and kneaded between her supple fingers.

your mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, stretched across a plane of thought. you were strangely immersed in the horrors in front of you, but your questions wandered. every moment that passed, you wondered if maybe you’d had a little too much to drink.

this was a dirty little secret that even you never knew your best friend had. you couldn’t even begin to fathom how this strange creature could be more than a figment of imagination, and you decided that it wasn’t. it would spare you the headache.

you could see the indent on jennie’s hollowed cheeks, hear the wet noises coming from her lips. perhaps it was stranger that you didn’t hate it. only moments ago you had been prepared to curse whatever idiot of a boy you found her with, and now you were quieter than a mouse.

jennie looked like a pebble at its feet. the beast was more massive than you cared to admit aloud, with a strength that spoke for itself, and a cock that promised total destruction and not anything less. it must’ve been part of the allure for her, because you had never seen her so eager.

and why would she be? the queen of new york city herself never had to ask for anything twice, if at all. it would be an honor for anyone to behold her bare form, but none of that power manifested here in this bedroom. she was sucking carnal off like a common whore begging for a dollar.

your memories reeled back to some instances, not many but a few, where you had noticed her visibly adjusting herself after what you could only assume had been a brief sexcapade in a closet somewhere. and for a moment you stopped to wonder if those faceless people you imagined her with had not been boys, but this damned beast.

it almost made you angrier, trying to fathom how this thing had better chances than you did at pursuing her, and all it took was a little force. had you known that, you would’ve staked your claim to her already.

greed was heavy in the air and you saw carnal seize control after allowing jennie to do as she pleased with it, fucking her mouth harder than she could manage. you couldn’t help but be aroused at the sound of her harshly choking. but she didn’t give up, taking every thrust.

quiet sounds escaped carnal’s mouth, raspy to the ears. it did not have much to say, you’d noticed, and it didn’t need to say much either. you could tell that they’d done this countless times before, because they slipped into this as though it was routine.

maybe you were making it up in your mind, but you could’ve sworn that the room had soared a thousand degrees hotter. part of it was ire on your end, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your core. to see her this way, meek and pliant, brought out an insatiable hunger within you.

by the second carnal’s thrusts were becoming more erratic, its self control seemingly unraveling hard. you were impressed that jennie hadn’t begun to choke again, in spite of the relentless pace. you were certain her jaw strained from the effort, but she still made herself a perfect little toy.

you recognized the brink of ecstasy when you saw it and carnal was at the very cusp. its groans even became a little louder, coming from the back of its throat. the only other thing you could hear was labored breathing and the wet smack of jennie’s lips.

you wouldn’t have wanted to cum that way, you would have wanted to be buried every inch deep between her legs, but after a short moment, the thrusts came to a still and carnal growled. given your angle and the darkness, it was hard to see, but you partly saw the leftover cum she couldn’t swallow drip from her chin.

jennie pushed her mouth off, wiping her lips. her naked chest was heaving for breath. when she stood, you could see the shimmer of tears in her misty eyes. she looked like a train wreck.

not a moment later, carnal tore her towards the bed and she gave a high squeak of surprise. your gaze was fixed to her every movement. on the bed, carnal hoisted her into the air as though she was featherlight and sat her over it. jennie reached for its shoulders.

but carnal, on the other hand, had reached for something else. to your surprise, it began to lubricate her comparatively smaller cunt with its own indigo slick. jennie whimpered, arching into its long, thick fingers as they ran across her folds. there was no doubt that she had become aroused simply by pleasuring this creature, and you could only imagine the ache in her core.

it must’ve been similar to yours. this incessant throbbing that yearned to be soothed; a hunger to touch or be touched.

“carnal,” jennie whined. “please, please…”

carnal didn’t seem to be listening to her borderline anguished cries of desperation, its fingers stretching her cunt open, almost like it was preparing her to take something much larger. but nothing was enough for an insatiable little minx like jennie.

“i don’t care if it hurts,” jennie added, to your shock. “i just want you to fuck me. please, carnal?”

carnal slipped its fingers out of her lubricated pussy and jennie made a noise of discontent at the emptiness, in spite of it being what she had asked for. it was too dark to be certain, but you swore that for half a second, there was a dark gleam of hunger in its heavy eyes.

the alien-like beast hoisted jennie up in a single arm and steered its cock to her entrance in the other. it was still stiff in its palms, and you got the feeling that it would take far more than one orgasm to sate a beast of its nature.

it didn’t seem to be concerned with taking its time or allowing her room to adjust to the stretch, but the look on jennie’s face told you that it was what she wanted. there was pain on her lips and pleasure in her eyes, the two being bred into something lethal.

“oh my god,” jennie moaned, tightening her grip on carnal’s shoulders.

carnal grasped her hips, using her as though she was merely some kind of toy rather than a human capable of being wounded. it lifted her up and down its thick shaft, leaving her to do nothing but squeeze her eyes shut and hold on for dear life.

you swallowed hard. when she was being used by a beast two times her size and infinitely stronger than herself, your best friend looked less and less human. she didn’t look like something worthy of respect or dignity. had you not known any better, you would’ve thought she was just some whore.

this was something that you had never seen, something different than before; when you saw her then, she was taking her power, but seeing her now, all of it had been reaped from her body.

deep, guttural grunts escaped the back of carnal’s throat as it rutted into her savagely, at a rhythm that rendered her thoughtless. jennie’s tears stung her eyes yet she kept babbling incoherently, addicted to the agony. there were red lines on her skin from where its nails had dug into her, but from how tight she clung to it, carnal was bound to have plenty of its own.

maybe in some sick, twisted way, the pain and the fear heightened the sensations of ecstasy that it tugged her nearer to every second of every minute. there was no pleasure without pain, and the promise of both had tempted jennie far beyond the point of no return. she was a fiend, you realized, for things that were bad for her.

somewhere in the midst of your astonishment of watching your best friend getting railed by nothing less than an unworldly beast, you remembered your anger, your frustrations. a thought a struck you then, selfish in nature, but bound to work in your favor.

you pulled your phone from your rear pocket and opened the camera, getting it to focus on the two unlikely partners that were showing one another other worlds. if jennie knew you had proof of this tryst, she wouldn’t turn you down for anything. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of the idea sooner.

jennie threw her head back, calling out for carnal. “harder,” she whispered.

carnal silently obliged, but it appeared more like it had lost whatever remained of its self-restraint. jennie’s sounds became louder then, higher in pitch, and you couldn’t miss the way her brows furrowed together.

your camera didn’t, either.

the sound of sex filled the room at an unfathomable intensity. there was a very obvious wet, slick squelch of their skin meeting that anyone could have heard if they walked just shy of the door. jennie’s cunt had already been drenched with arousal on its own, but the addition of carnal’s slick didn’t help.

you almost couldn’t stand it and that feeling was inexplicably amplified knowing that whatever this thing was she surrendered herself to wasn’t even human. but you were embraced by the comfort that you would be its place soon, whether she wanted it or not.

you were imagining it. if you closed your eyes and listened only to the sound of jennie’a pretty little voice, you could picture that it was you she was making all those pitiful sounds for.

“fuck, i’m so…,” jennie trailed, unable to even get the words off the tip of her tongue.

but she didn’t need to say it. carnal saw it. you saw it. hell, anybody half as curious as you were could have been right here, about to witness it. she was on the brink of climax, the cusp of ecstasy, and it was unkind.

and as much as it angered you, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away for a minute. you had to know what it was like, to see her truly unravel, to lose herself in the highs of pleasure and the throes of sex.

jennie brought a hand to her naked chest, pinching her own nipple. you could see moonlight shimmering on the beads of moisture that clung to her, dancing on the misty haze of lust in her eyes.

it was at that moment you saw the party monster for what she really was. the intensity at last was too much for her to handle and jennie shuddered with climax, her eyes rolling to the back of her head and her toes curling. she cried out the prettiest whimper, singing a name that wasn’t yours.

and somehow none of that mattered, because the beast she let ravage her wasn’t finished. it tossed her onto the bed and continued, fucking her like an animal, like a monster.

you had seen enough. you had what you needed. with the promise of satisfaction vying against the contempt simmering deep within you, you slipped out where you had came.

too soon to see her eyes fade pitch black.

#jennie smut #blackpink smut #gxg smut #girl group smut #jennie kim smut #revehae fics

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moonlight-prose · 25 days

Text

KISS ME ONCE

a/n: i am so late with even starting this and i don't expect to finish, but i still wanted to contribute something. so this is the first fic for the moon knight bingo hosted by @moonknight-events. some of the prompts really captured my attention and i wanted to write what i could for them. i based this off yes the long long, long time, but some other jazz songs were played as i wrote. and honestly i'm obsessed with how it turned out. the divider is by the ever talented @saradika-graphics.

prompt used: butterflies

summary: dating steven grant came with its challenges. between being a superhero, sharing the body with a man you hardly knew, and his forgetfulness, you felt dizzy. so when your date goes awry, you take matters into your own hands.

word count: 1.7k+

pairing: marc spector x reader

warnings: not explicit, some soft fluff, romance, the blossoming of a relationship, flustered marc.

Candlelight flooded the darkened flat, flickering a soft orange glow along the walls and stacks of books. It would be romantic if the frustrated bangs of a man trying to fix it wasn’t the only sound that echoed back to you. The evening had started out as a date. An attempt between you and Steven to rejoin together after weeks apart. But life continually managed to get in the way.

Problems arose one after the other. But nevertheless this is where you found yourselves. Sitting at the small table, candles scattered throughout the space, and the soft sound of jazz coming from the record player in the corner. And just as he poured you a glass of red wine—the power went out.

“It’s alright. Really.”

“I’ve almost got it.” A very American voice called back to you.

Steven—the man you adored—had no clue what the fuck to do in a situation such as a this. The radiator should have been easy enough to turn back on, but by the sounds it seemed that there was nothing but difficulty. Which is how Marc—the man you barely spoke to—wound up crashing your date.

It’s not that you didn’t want to speak to him. Get to know him. You just rarely found yourself with the chance. Between him and Steven being whisked away consistently, you barely had time to speak to Steven. Yet there you were, in your best outfit, candlelight illuminating the flat, and wine poured into two separate glasses. And Marc was acting as if you weren’t there.

He was helping. You knew that, but there was nothing that could be done. At least not right now.

“Are you hungry?”

The question must have thrown him off guard; his head peeking out from the bottom of the radiator. His eyes quickly caught sight of you standing there—hope shimmering in your eyes. A look that was usually only reserved for Steven. A look he’d longed to see directed at him one day. But Marc—ever the stubborn man Steven made him out to be—looked away as fast as he started.

“No I’m alright honey.” His eyes flicked back to you briefly before settling on the mirror. A quick sigh, the tensing of his shoulders, and you knew enough.

He wanted this.

You couldn’t deny the endearment didn’t have an effect on you. In fact, it was quite surprising how your entire stomach erupted into a flurry of butterflies. They normally only arose when Steven was near. How he smiled so bright it nearly killed you, how his entire heart was worn like an accessory on his sleeve. He looked at you in awe. As if you were the very light of his life, but Marc faced you with hesitancy. With reluctance and the darkened shine of anguish in his brown eyes.

What he wanted, he could never have.

That’s what he believed. Or at least that’s what you came to understand in the short time you’d known about him. That he gave everything—all he could spare—to Steven. He sacrificed a normal life to the man who already had it; to the person he could never be.

It broke your heart in a way.

Why would he believe he could never have you too? That his life wouldn’t be intertwined with yours. Like it or not you chose Steven, and whether he knew it or not…you also chose Marc. Even if he wouldn’t allow himself to be chosen.

“We ordered dinner. Thankfully. I love Steven, but I don’t trust him in a kitchen.” Smiling, you moved to grab the container you had yet to take the food out of.

Marc flinched at the word love falling so freely from your mouth. He acted as if he’d never heard the word before. And maybe he hadn’t. Maybe someone never looked at him the way Steven looked at you. Although something told you that tonight might in fact change that. You never saw yourself falling for Steven—for anyone really—but Marc was a welcomed surprise.

“I don’t want to take Steven’s food.”

You shrugged. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

“You don’t know Steven honey.”

There was that fucking word again. A rush of flutters overtook your stomach, your heart racing with the glint of annoyance in his eyes as he stared at the mirror behind you. You could practically see Steven trying to reason with him. Trying to keep Marc from ruining this night. If only the both of them could see in your mind—how you longed to get closer to Marc, to see if you could make him feel the same as you did now.

So you did.

He looked startled, stepping back a bit with his hand outstretched. The sight brought a smile to your lips.

“I want to have dinner with you Marc.”

“You’re on a date with Steven.” He sighed, eyebrows pulling together. Strange how it was so different to Steven’s frustration, so unlike the soft man you knew. “Lemme fix the radiator and you can have him back,” he muttered.

“Marc—”

“Just need a tool. Which is somewhere around here.”

“Wait—”

“And I’ll be—”

With a quick lunge, you grabbed hold of Marc’s (Steven’s) button down, pulling him close enough to feel his breath on your chin. He froze, hands hovering over your waist as you kept him there and fixed him with a look that made his heart thump loudly against his chest. That glimmer—the want—was suddenly on him. And he felt as if the breath would fly out of his lungs if he tried to make a move. He was afraid he’d scare you off.

“Eat with me.” You smiled sweet and honey like he could practically taste it on his tongue. “Don’t make me tie you to the chair just to join me.”

He huffed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed roughly. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

He nodded. “I’ll stay.”

“The food’s cold.” You sighed, twisting in his hold to catch a glimpse of the darkened street. “And it looks like the whole street is down.”

You never saw how his eyes lingered on your lips, how he drank you in with ease. His own tongue swiping along his bottom lip quickly, chest stuttering as he sucked in a breath. If there’s one thing Marc knew it was this—you were the most beautiful person he’d seen. He wasn’t sure how Steven found you, but suddenly he found himself thanking every god he knew of that he did.

Perhaps that’s why he relinquished control so often. Solely to keep you around. Marc ruined things. He knew this. He understood that whatever he touched came away broken, but Steven…he fixed things. He brought light to the darkness and made sure it burned bright—he saved what Marc destroyed. And Marc couldn’t destroy you.

He’d die before he broke the one thing that made everything good.

“I have an idea,” you said, joy lighting up the room.

“Hm?”

You smiled, digging into your purse for your phone, the small screen lighting up your face. It was harsh to look at after nothing but candlelight for an hour, but you managed. At least long enough to find a good playlist, a jazz one Steven made for you in the first week of dating. Songs you’d danced to time and time again. It sounded echoey and small in the flat, but you played it regardless, setting the phone on the table as you reached for Marc.

“Dance with me?”

He stuttered this time. “W-What?”

“Dance with me.”

“Baby I’m not much of a dancer…”

Sighing, you pulled him close, your hand sliding into his. “That’s okay.” You felt him shudder slightly at the way your hand slid on his shoulder, your body pressed against his. “I’m not either.”

Marc knew that was a lie. He’d caught glimpses of moments between you and Steven. The soft love you both shared. It made him ache in ways he couldn’t describe with words, and maybe this was going too far. Maybe Steven would be pissed when he finally came back, but Marc refused to feel sorry for this. He wouldn’t apologize for loving you. Because there was nothing to apologize for—not when you felt so right in his arms.

He managed to sway gently with you, his feet shuffling—albeit a bit clumsily—along the hardwood floor. You didn’t notice. At least if you did, you never said anything. The music hummed a soft tune behind you, the yellow glow of the candles casting shadows across your supple skin. And Marc felt the ground vanish from beneath him.

How could someone be as perfect as you?

“I’m thinking we should go to the Italian restaurant on Friday.”

Flutters overtook his entire body. “Friday sounds good.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder gently. As if you were entirely at ease, planning dates with him like this had happened before. Marc did what he could to be the same. This was normal. This life, this flat, this…relationship. It belonged to him in a way; he just hadn’t seen it.

“We can go walking afterwards,” you said, your words soft—your breath washing across his neck and causing goosebumps to form. “See the moon.”

He smiled. “I see too much of the moon.”

“Then we go during the day.” Marc wrapped his arm tighter around your waist, daring to rest his hand a bit lower. You shivered at the touch. “See the sun instead.”

Marc realized then why Steven loved you, why he fought to keep you in his life. You gave all of yourself in a way he might never be able to. You jumped in wholeheartedly, with a smile on your face. Consequences be damned. And like the lights finally came back on in the apartment, he realized why he loved you. Steven—the man meant to protect him for his entire life—was an exact reflection of you.

You wore your heart on your sleeve just as he did.

You loved fiercely, hoped endlessly, and gave your entire soul to the one you chose.

Whether he liked it or not…you chose him too. Even if he couldn’t give over all of himself. Yet.

“Okay,” he murmured, resting his head gently against yours. “We’ll see the sun.”

#marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight x you #moon knight #my writing #moonknightevents

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beomcoups · 26 days

Text

Caller #17

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: basketball player!Soonyoung x college dj reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, angst, 90s au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: PG-13

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, talks of tough family dynamics, bit of heavy angst, kissing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8.8k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You could easily name 10 things that you hate about him. But when you bond over music and families, you realize there's more to him than meets the surface.

𝐀𝐍: This was not an easy fic. It took me way longer than I planned to write, and the story I had mapped out went in a different direction. I still feel proud of this one, my longest fic yet, and I hope that you will enjoy it too 🥹 This is a part of my very own Now That's 90's collab hosted by me and @mingsolo. Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for reading this over and @hobeemin for making a banner for me at the last minute 💙

“Thank you for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s your song of the week?” “Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve!” “You got it! Thanks for calling into C.A.R.A.T radio at 526 AM.” Hitting play on the record, the orchestra's melody hits your ears, sending you into an out-of-body experience, your soul floating to cloud nine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand every time the song is played, and you imagine yourself playing the violin, getting lost in the beautiful and complicated sinfonia. Working at the college radio station was your life. It’s the only place to lose yourself to TLC, Nirvana, and Weezer for hours without judgment. You are in your 3rd year of college, getting your bachelor’s in music theory so you can be one of the most prominent songwriters in the world. While everyone in high school didn’t know what they would be doing with their life, you always imagined yourself getting a Grammy for Song of the Year on stage. That is your real passion: creating musical poetry for the masses.

You slowly take the headphones off and set them down, looking at the big clock plastered on the wall. You let out a heavy sigh, sad that your time at the station is ending. You are allotted two hours a day on Saturday as a part of credit for your program. If you had it your way, you would be here daily, listening to your favorite records and writing songs between commercial breaks.

“Hey,” your professor Kim calls out from her office. “Come in here before you leave.”

You gather your things to leave, looking at the station one last time before entering the smaller space. This isn’t her regular office, but it has everything you think you would need: a desk, a comfortable chair, and bookshelves full of books and ornaments for decoration. You have spent a lot of time in here, pitching new ideas for the station and getting turned down every single time.

“What's up?” You sit in the chair opposite of her.

“So we will be introducing a new segment to the radio where callers can call in and ask for advice about anything, and then you can recommend a song based on what they are calling in about.:” She pauses to take a sip of water. “I want you to be a part of it.”

You don’t answer right away. You are peeved that Professor Kim wants you to head any segment. You have never shown any initiative to want to talk to anyone who calls in besides listening to music. It’s just not your thing. You are a loner at heart, and that’s how you plan to stay.

“Why me?” You finally speak up. “There are other people who are better at this than I am. Hell, ask Emily. She has been foaming at the mouth to talk about anything other than music.”

“Because you are who I want,” she shrugs. “I see how you look when you talk about your favorite releases. You go deep with the lyrics and how you can relate that to any part of your life. You are more than the person behind the voice, and it’s time other people see that.” “Well, I am not trying to be the next Oprah or Ricki Lake,” you scoff. I just want to play music, write my songs, and do whatever I need to do for the class.”

“No one said you would be the next talk show anything,” Professor Kim retorted. “This will be considered a project, and it’s worth 20% of your grade. Plus, when you are in the industry and have sessions with the artists about the song's lyrics, don’t you need to talk to them about their life and what they need? Think about that.” You nod, feeling defeated because you know you can’t talk your way out of this. You know she is right, but you will never admit it. “Plus, it’ll be a good idea to get out of your shell and work on those social skills,” she says. “We will start in a couple of weeks, so get your mind ready because before you know it, you will be there.” You nod and leave the office, your stomach grumbling loudly as you put your headphones on and listen to the latest Backstreet Boys release. It’s a quarter past seven, and dusk officially sets in the sky as you walk across campus. Working at the radio station is the highlight of your week, as you can’t play music loud at your dorm without others complaining. Fortunately, your dorm is set where you have your own space, but the walls are thin, and you can hear everything. You considered buying noise-canceling foam to cover your door but were told it was “against” the rules. Whatever. Your stomach rumbles again, and you are determined to get a burger and fries in your stomach and drink an Oreo milkshake. You cross the street, open your bag, and grab your wallet before being met with a screeching halt from a car in front of you, its headlights blaring in your eyes. “What the fuck?” You mouth at the driver. The driver pokes his head out the window, and you instantly recognize him as Soonyoung, the star point guard of the basketball team. His black Jeep is crowded, full of guys and girls, with Usher blasting through the speakers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he waves. “Yeah, no shit,” you retort, walking to the end before the car pulls off. Jeers and boos could be heard, but you could care less. People like that always get in your way no matter what. You avoid people like that as much as people, as you don’t want to be mixed in with that crowd. Soonyoung will eventually go pro and live the NBA life, whereas you will be on the stage accepting awards, with millions of people cheering your name.

The segment started as planned, and you sat and listened to every caller asking for advice. Most of them wanted advice on how to ask someone out for a date, makeup, and things you didn’t care about. The only thing that made it worth it was you got to pick the music to go with the advice, which allowed you to show off your taste in music, from Britney Spears to Mandy Moore, Usher, Sugar Ray, etc. It made the time go by faster as well. You look through the glass, and Professor Kim gives you a thumbs up to take the last call. Letting out a sigh of relief, you let the call ring a few times before you answer. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s on your mind?” “H-hello?” a tenured male voice booms through the speakers. You groan, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You’ve reached C.A.R.A.T radio! What’s on your mind?”

“Hey. You can use this line to ask for advice, right?”

“Yep,” you say, a bit annoyed. “Whatcha got?”

There is a lengthy pause, your fingers tapping dramatically on the soundboard. You raise an eyebrow at the professor, who shrugs and walks out of your view. You hear shuffling in the background, followed by what sounds like something being sipped from a cup.

“S-sorry, I am a bit nervous,” he apologizes. “It’s my first time calling in.”

“It’s alright,” you reassure him. “I know how it is. How can I help?”

“So I already have this path carved out for me by my family and everyone who cares about me. Sports is all I have known all my life, and I have worked very hard to get here.” He stops for a brief second. “Everyone expects me to act like this all-star college boy, and no one ever talks to me about anything else than sports, and I am starting to hate it.”

“Do you mind telling me what kind of sports you’re in?”

“I play ball.”

“Okay, that's good. Well, what is it that you want?”

“I’m tired of being what everyone wants me to be: this golden retriever everyone loves. I just want to be me.” You understood how he felt. Maybe not in sports, but people pushing you to be something you’re not. You come from a family of doctors and lawyers who expected you to be the same. “Get good grades so you can get into an Ivy League school” is all you heard growing up. When you were seven, you expressed interest in music, sitting in front of the family piano on Christmas and playing Jingle Bells, which you learned on your own. Your parents cared for a while, putting you in piano lessons and taking you all over the state for recitals. They figured if you kept this up until high school, it would look good on college applications, but nothing that they took you seriously for. It wasn’t until you learned how to play the guitar in secret that you fell in love with how the strings strummed against your fingers that you realized that your passion is music. Thanks to your choir teacher, you had a good voice and kept it in tune while practicing writing music. You soon sang in front of the school, getting high praise from people all over for your voice and how you would “make it big one day.” Your parents insisted that it was just a phase and that eventually you would become a doctor and make a “real” living. You were determined to prove them wrong by applying to one of the best music schools and getting in on a full ride. You did that, but it came with a cost: being cut off by everyone in your family but your grandparents. They believed in you from the beginning and made sure you were okay. You will pay them back in tenfold one day. “Hello?” the deep voice cut through your thoughts. “Y-yeah, sorry,” you snap back into focus. “Do you want my advice?” “Yeah, I do,” you hear him clear your throat. ‘I think you should be who you want to be. It may feel a little different at first, but eventually, you will be happier being yourself.” “I mean…” he pauses for another second. “How do I go about that? How do I show people the real me?” “Hmm,” you think out loud. “Why don’t you try easing into it? Start a random conversation about something you are interested in that no one knows about. Gauge their reactions, and if they treat you weirdly, then start making new friends. It might be a little harder with your family, but they will come around. But either way, it’s exhausting having to hide yourself at the time. It’s the 90s and a new era!” “Yeah,” he says slowly. I’ll try that.Thanks.” “No problem!” You say. “Check out this song that’ll hopefully speak to your heart. This is me signing off on CARAT Radio, 800am.” You played “You Gotta Be” by Des’ree, a personal favorite, closing out the end of your segment. Admittedly, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. Sure, some questions were annoying, but it allowed you to pass on music to people and help them get over whatever. You can’t call that a total loss. You push the mic to the side and leave the room, checking in with your professor before leaving. “Great job,” she leaned back into her seat. “You were well-spoken and composed, and the music selections were excellent. Have you thought about being a radio DJ?” “NO,” you snort. “I want to be more behind the scenes, writing songs and getting Grammys.” “Okay, okay,” Professor Kim chuckles. “But don’t rule it out. You are a natural at it.” You nod and head out the door with a small smile. Getting complimented about your work feels good, but you rule out being a radio DJ. You deal with people if you have to, but you prefer to have time for yourself a lot of times. You’re just introverted like that. However, that last call was in the back of your mind. You just want to live and succeed at your dream job. It was nice knowing someone out there felt the same way you did.

Before you knew it, a few weeks had passed, and you had secretly liked doing the segment every Saturday, talking to people from different backgrounds and listening to their troubles. You had a song for every call, and you bragged to your professor at the end of your shift that you had impeccable taste. The analytics showed that more people were tuning in during your segment than at any other time on the radio. Not gonna lie; it stroked your ego quite a bit.

The mystery guy called in on Saturdays, ironically being caller #17 every time. He would call and ask for advice about getting his grades up, coming out of his comfort zone, trying new things, etc. You got to know him a little, see how he solves problems, and see his sense of humor. You have no idea what he looked like, but you imagined he was just your type, like a Keanu Reeves, Theo Mizuhara, or Merlin Santana. Is it crazy that you sometimes daydream about a man you never met?

Today was the last day of the advice segment, and everyone called in with their usual advice and well wishes. Like clockwork, the mystery guy was caller #17. His breathing was labored when you answered, followed by a clunk of metal hitting the floor. “Welcome to C.A.R.A.T radio. You are lucky caller number 17. What’s your damage?”

“H-hey.” You know it was him; the sound of his voice was familiar to you. You shift in your seat, sitting straight and placing your elbows on the desk. You try to keep a poker face, your professor watching you with curious eyes. “Hey there,” you clear your throat. “How can I help?” “I heard today is the last day to ask for advice,” he says. “I can’t say I won’t miss calling and hearing your voice every Saturday.” “Oh yeah?” you chuckle. “ That’s good to know. Well, what is the last piece of advice that I can give you?” “So, there is this girl,” he starts. “I really like her. She’s cute, a bit of a hard ass, and I really like her mind. She’s not like anyone that I’ve met. How do I ask her out?” “Does she know you exist?” “Yeah. I almost ran into her once, but we talked a lot.” “Ah. Do you think she might like you?” “I-I’m not sure,” he stutters. “We get along and everything and we have some things in common. I just don’t know if she would be into me.” “Okay, well, it wouldn’t hurt to ask her out? The worst that can happen is that she says no; at least you’d know.” “Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m nervous as hell, that’s all. Have you dated anyone before?” You are taken aback, your professor raising her eyebrows through the glass. You nod, licking your lips before responding. “I’ve dated here and there,” you say slyly. “It wasn't anything serious. What about you?” ‘Um, yeah, I have,” he snorts.

“Well, there you go then, tiger.” You’re clearly entertained by this conversation. “Remember how you felt when you asked the other girls out, and apply that same confidence to this girl. You never know. She might say yes.” “Okay, I will take your word for it. Thank you.” “Not a problem!” You beam. “Here is the last song I leave you with: ’ 4-page letter’ by Aaliyah. Have a good night, ya’ll.”

You play the final track of the night, setting down the headphones while Professor Kim claps her hands in applause. You roll your eyes playfully, pushing your chair onto the desk and exiting the booth. You feel light as a feather, dopamine taking over your body as you meet your professor in her office. “Great job,” she smiles. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” “Maybe,” you plop down on a chair. “It was fun giving out music suggestions.” “Mhmm,” she nods. “Well, get out there and enjoy your Saturday. I will see you in class on Friday.” You grab your things and leave the station, your stomach rumbling and your mouth parched. It’s after 8, and the nearest thing open is the local pizza joint with the best pepperoni pizza with the cheesiest cheese you’ve ever had. You go there often, and the owners, Dante and Gabriella, get your order ready before you sit down. “The usual?” they always ask, knowing that you are a creature of habit. Aside from your grandparents, they were the closest thing to family to you, always making sure your pizza was hot and crispy with a tall cup of Coke to go with it. They asked about your studies, and Gabriella always asked when you’d get a boyfriend.

“Ah, stop it, amore mio,” Dante jokingly shushes her. “She has all her life to find the love of her life.”

More people started coming in, and they left you to your food and your walkman. You gleefully put Parmesan cheese over your pizza, taking the first bite and feeling instant gratification. A slice of heaven, literally. You take your headphones on, listening to Kurt Cobain croon on Nirvana’s Something In The Way. The “Nevermind” album got you through some tough times, especially when your family cut off communication with you. It hurt you and made you feel isolated and misunderstood. On the outside, your mom and dad put on this persona of being open-minded and willing to do anything for the family. Why were you the exception? You feel the tears well up, and you get yourself together before people start to notice, eating the rest of your pizza before you call it a night. You look around, seeing people on dates or hanging out with their friends, and you miss that. You had friends back home, but you all split up before you went to college. Who knows what their lives are like now. It’s not like you are visiting home anyway. You clean up your mess and walk into the bathroom, relieving yourself and washing your hands before returning to your dorm. You looked at yourself in the mirror: your jean jacket covered your black button-up shirt, shorts, and stockings underneath. Your eyes were slightly red, a contrast from your fresh face. Stifling a yawn, you leave and wave goodbye to Dante, opening the side door and bumping into someone in the process. You look up, facing Soonyoung, his cheerful eyes meeting yours. “We gotta stop meeting like this,” you mutter, backing up and adjusting your jacket. “Yeah, we shouldn’t,” he responds, opening the door to let you out. Your head snaps up, half expecting him to not hear you. You rake your fingers through your hair, walking out of the restaurant. He’s a handsome guy, you can admit that, with his fresh, faded haircut and trendy clothes. You get why he is popular with everyone. “I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car the other day,” he calls out. “It’s alright,” you turn around. “Just don’t make it a habit.” “Alright.” He chuckles and goes inside, and you speed walk to your dorm. Did I just flirt with him? You think to yourself. What the fuck was that? You aren’t even interested in Soonyoung in that way. You two are the two opposites of each other. You’re clearly losing your mind.

The cool air calms you down, and the slight breeze underneath the moonlight keeps you at bay until you get to your building. It’s Saturday night, and everyone’s out; the only sound being heard is your boots hitting the tiled floor as you walk down the hallway to your dorm. Unlocking your door, you notice an envelope tucked underneath it. You sit on the bed, open it, and pull out a letter. I know this isn't a four-page letter, but I like you. You’re funny, have good jams, and are down to earth. Did I say that you’re cute? I like talking to you every Saturday and don’t want it to stop.

I want to take you out to a concert on Friday. I’ll pick you up at 4 at your dorm. I know you've said yes if you’re there when I arrive. —Caller #17

“What do you think of this?” Your former roommate and good friend, Nikki Prince, holds up a black leather jacket in your size. You asked her to go shopping with you for an outfit for tomorrow's impending date, and you needed another set of eyes. She majors in architecture and design but models on the side thanks to her striking looks. A tall, tanned skin and green-eyed beauty, she now lives with her much older chef boyfriend, Caelan, but whenever you need her, she’s always there. She’s French, stylish, and brutally honest. You loved that about her. “I dig that,” you take it from her and try it on. It fits you just right. It would be chilly, so you bought new boots, a white shirt, and black jean shorts to wear with black stockings underneath. You wanted to be comfortable as you would be on your feet all night.

“Are you sure about this date?” Nikki’s foreign accent comes through. “How do you know this guy isn’t some serial killer? We’ve all seen Scream.” “Gee, thanks, mom,” you roll your eyes. “If he tries anything with me, I’ll just show him the moves I learned from the YMCA.”

“I’m serious. This is risque for you, no?” You shrug, slowly taking off the jacket and heading to the cashier. “I get your point, and if anything happens, I can defend myself. But I have a feeling that it won’t happen.” You greet the cashier and pay for the jacket. “I’ll call you before I leave and tell you about it the next day. Deal?” Nikki nods, and you both walk out of the store, satisfied with what you bought. The mall is busy for a Thursday night, with young adults frolicking at stores like Rave and Wet Seal, looking for the latest fashion trends. The mall isn’t really your scene, as you prefer to thrift shop for your clothes. You have been lucky to find some hidden gems there, especially since you are on a limited budget. Nikki, however, said it was a special occasion, and you quote, “You are not going on a date in someone else’s vêtements.”

You stop at Auntie Anne’s, buying a massive pretzel with cheese on the side, while Nikki opts for a small lemonade. You offer her a piece, which she declines, saying her boyfriend, Caelan, will make her dinner later. “How is that going, by the way?” You sit down at a table. “It’s going good,” she enthuses, raking her fingers through her long black tresses. “He’s so mature and sophisticated. Imagine not having to cook and clean after a man and have good sex.” “Well, yeah, he’s about six years older,” you remark. He better know a thing or two if he wants to keep his model.” Nikki gloats as you finish your pretzel, talking about the elaborate French dishes her boyfriend makes for her and how he worships the ground she walks on. Since you’ve known her, she has always been opinionated and refused to associate with people within your age group. Whenever you see her in the hallways, she always talks with teachers or ignores the lustful looks of college boys. You two got on well because you were roommates, and both were Scorpio risings. You understood each other. “Oh shoot, I better head back to the flat,” Nikki says, looking at her watch. Caelan is going to be home soon, and he is making steak frites tonight.”

“Yeah, I gotta head to the dorm anyway. Early class tomorrow.”

You walk out of the mall into the chilly night air. She offers you a ride home, and you decline at first, saying that you will walk as it's pretty close. But a slight wind blows, bringing chills down your spine.

“Wait,” you shout after her. “I’ll take that ride.”

The ride was short and quiet, your mind occupied with your date with this mystery stranger. Nikki was right, you don’t know him, and he could be this crazy guy. But you’re also excited; the butterflies haven’t left your stomach since Saturday. You feel like you know him, and you don’t even know his name. He is just caller #17.

She pulls up to your building, and you hug her, preparing to run inside and shower. You know Nikki is still worried and means well, even if she sometimes acts like an overbearing old sister.

“Come over tomorrow at two if you can,” you announce. “You can help me get ready and meet my date in case anything goes crazy.”

“Alright,” Nikki seems relieved. “I’ll be there.”

You shut the door and shout your goodbyes before sprinting inside.

“Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

The next day went fast, like a blur. You slept past your alarm and woke up after twelve, making you two hours late.

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” you shout as you scrambled out of bed and tripped over a blanket. You throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater from the University, your hair in a wild ponytail as you brush your teeth and high-tailed it out the door. You ran to class, forming an apology along the way, your heart beating out of your chest. You are met, however, with a closed door and a white paper plastered on the door:

NO CLASS TODAY. ENJOY YOUR WEEKEND.

“Really?” You huffed, leaning against the wall. It’s not like you are late for class; your alarm was

set despite you being up late last night. But whatever, fuck it. You aren’t about to let this ruin your day.

The leaves flow softly with the wind as you walk back to your dorm, the sun playing hide and seek in the clouds. All you can think about is tonight and what concert you are going to. Maybe it’s a huge concert, and that’s why he is picking you up early… or perhaps it’s a local indie band at a bar. Your mind runs with endless possibilities, excitement pumping through your veins. You aren’t a hopeless romantic or a love-at-first-sight kind of person, but something about this person makes you feel good… like you finally have someone who can relate to you on some level. Granted, you have only talked with him on the phone, but you have a gut feeling and are rarely wrong about these things. You finally return to your dorm and take a well-needed shower, washing and detangling your hair with much-needed privacy. Your dorm has shared showers; you usually take them when everyone is asleep at night. Fortunately, there were only a few people, allowing you to have time for yourself. You allow yourself to think of the water running down your body as him, his hands caressing your body, his lips maybe touching yours— “Is anyone in here?” You snap out of your daydream quickly, and the water turns cold right on queue. “Y-yeah?” “I am here to clean the showers,” a woman’s voice calls from the door. “O-okay, give me a second.” Cursing silently, you quickly step out and dry yourself, throwing on your robe and grabbing your shower caddy before exiting the bathroom. You are met by an older woman wearing a shirt representing your college and sweats, with cleaning supplies in tow. “You were in there for a while,” she remarks as she sets out the wet floor sign. Do you have a hot date tonight?” “Something like that,” you shrug. You walk back to your room, and to your surprise, Nikki is outside your door. “You’re early,” you remark, unlocking the door. “Yes, I know,” she said. “But we will need more than two hours to get yourself right.” “You act like I can’t dress myself,” you scoff. “I just wanted your company, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah? Mon ami, when was the last time you changed your makeup?” You open your mouth to rebuttal but close it immediately. You hate to say it, but Nikki’s right. It’s not like you are going anywhere besides school, the music store, and the pizzeria. “Exactly,” Nikki says, setting her stuff down on her bed. “I went and got you makeup close to your teint, just in case.” She pulls out brand-new makeup from Revlon from mascaras, concealers, powders, and assortments of lipsticks of my choosing. She also bought nail polishes, saying it was time to add some color to your life. As much as you want to roll your eyes at her, she is right. As harsh as Nikki seems sometimes, she has a big heart and always looks out for you when you least expect it. You know a thing or two about style, but she takes it to a whole different level and isn’t shy about giving advice on it. You appreciate her so much. Being honest with yourself, you are nervous as hell. You have had crushes before, but you have never been pursued like this, where someone likes you enough to ask you out formerly, even if it was via a note. This person cares about your mind or seems to. You aren’t sure how to feel; you want to be excited and have a good time, but you have a wall up for a reason. You don’t want to be disappointed again like your family has. You figured if the people you love the most can abandon you like that, there is no hope for you out there. You lived with that hard truth for a long time, and you were content with that. But god, this guy has you curious. “What’s on your mind?” Nikki finishes with your makeup and hair, gazing at you through the mirror. “Butterflies in my stomach are killing me,” you grimace. “I can’t believe I am even doing this.” “Oh, relax,” she blows a raspberry. “You always do this thing where you talk yourself out of things you deserve. Stop that. D'accord? “Yes, mother,” you tease. She sucks her teeth, and you get dressed, putting on the new clothes you bought and your black leather boots. Checking out your appearance, you are satisfied with your look, and Nikki gives you a thumbs up while she cleans up. Knock, Knock! You look at the door, the butterflies fluttering deeper in your stomach. You look in the mirror one last time as Nikki opens the door, a brief silence followed by a heart chuckle. “Mon ami, your date is here.”

You see him, and you're stunned. It dawns on you why he’s here, and you feel your heart drop all the way to your ass. This has to be some kind of joke. “Soonyoung? What are you doing here?” He walks more into your view, wearing a grey jean jacket with matching pants. His right hand is in his pocket, and he has a small bouquet of irises in his other hand. “I’m here to take you to the concert?” Nikki is behind him, trying to keep her composure and mask her giggles. Of all the people you thought would show up, Soonyoung was the LAST person on your mind. This is the person who was calling in every Friday and wanting to talk to you? Yeah fucking right. “What happened?” you accost him. “Did you lose some bet, and you had to ask me out? Or do you feel bad for almost hitting me with your car?” “No?!” he scoffs, clearly offended. “I mean, yes, I feel bad about almost hitting, but no one dared me to do anything. Do you think I am that kind of person?” “Well, yes.” You wish you could take back what you said, but it was too late. You knew you hurt his feelings, the crestfallen look on his face saying it all. “This was a mistake,” he sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, I wasted your time.” He handed Nikki the flowers and walked away, the air feeling thick and awkward. You couldn’t even look at her in the eyes. You knew you fucked up. “Well, that was awkward,” you huff. “And shitty.” You raise an eyebrow at her, and she stares you down. You don’t want to feel worse than you already do, and Nikki isn’t helping. “Honestly, I think the guy was telling the truth,” Nikki surmises. “He looked like a sad puppy.” You think about this caller #17 guy who would call in every week and share his thoughts with you about everything, with you having to do very little. You think about how scared he felt about being his true, authentic self and how much courage it probably took to ask you out. You know you are a tough cookie to crack and understand better than anyone how it feels to go against the grain and be who you are. “I fucked up Nik,” you slump on your bed. “Yeah, you did.” God, you hate her bluntness sometimes, but she’s right. You need to go find him and make this right. “Do you think he’s still here?” you ask, sitting up and grabbing your purse. “He couldn’t have left that fast.” “Only way to find out is to get off your ass and find him,” she says, pulling your arm. “Go find your guy.” You both rush out of your dorm, jogging down the hallway and out of the building, looking for a silhouette of him. You were scared you missed him and felt defeated, not seeing any sight of him anywhere. Surveying the area one last time, you noticed a black Jeep peeling out of the parking lot. It stops at the stop sign, the second to last car to go. This is your only chance. “WAIT!”

You sprint towards the car, barely meeting him as he is about to turn.

“STOP,” you exhale, relieved that you caught him. “Don’t go.” Soonyoung steps out as you rest your hands on the hood of his car, trying to catch your breath. He touches your arm, his hands soft as silk, sending shocks throughout your body.

“Are you okay?” He asks, taking a good look at you.

“Aside from me about to pass out, I’m good.” You take a deep breath. “Listen. I’m sorry. I was a jerk and an asshole and—”

“MOVING YOUR FUCKING CAR!”

A middle-aged woman leans out of the window and gives you the bird, followed by a slew of car horns beeping in annoyance behind you and Soonyoung.

“Fuck,” Soonyoung curses, realizing the amount of cars behind him. “Get in the car.”

You both get in the car and drive off from the angry drivers, pulling into the nearest gas station. You sit with your hands in your lap, this weight of regret sitting on your chest and guilt eating you from the inside. You look at him, and he seems surprisingly relaxed as if you didn’t reject him

not even thirty minutes ago.

“I’m going to get some gas,” he announces. “Wait here.”

You watch him walk inside to pay and let out the deepest, most agonizing sigh. He should be calling you every name in the book, and rightfully so, as you insulted him. Why is he being so nice? Does he really like you that much?

He returns a few minutes later, shoving his pockets with change left over, and you both lock eyes with each other. In another situation, you would’ve been able to appreciate his good looks, trendy clothes, and tiger-like appearance. But instead, you feel sick to your stomach, disappointed in how you acted. You look down, twiddling your thumbs until he finishes pumping his gas and returning to the car. This is not like you at all. “Hey,” he says. “Hi,” you stammer. “I’m sorry again. I feel like a terrible person, and I shouldn’t have bit your head off like that.” “I know you were intense, but Jesus Christ,” he exhaled. “Why do you think I wouldn’t be interested in you? You made it seem like I lost a bet to ask you out. You made me feel like crap.” Every word felt like a punch in the gut, and you deserved it. Despite your parents' many flaws, they always taught you not to judge a book by its cover, and that’s precisely what you did. You were pretentious and stuck up about him. In some ways, you aren’t any different from them. “I guess…” your voice trails off. “I just saw you as the athlete that everyone is in love with. Your friends, I know the type, and we’ve never really crossed paths with each other unless I was bumping into you or almost getting hit by your car.” “So… you saw me as the very thing I told you I didn’t want to be seen as.” You didn’t have to answer back. You both knew the answer, and it was eating you up inside. “I’m sorry, I am just gonna go.” Before he could stop you, you exited the Jeep and started walking back toward your dorm. You are embarrassed and can never face him again. This is why you don’t don’t talk to anyone. This is awkward; it feels weird. You lose yourself in your thoughts until you reach the street light, waiting for your turn to go. The air is slightly chilly than usual, the smell of the ocean taking over your senses that you would enjoy any other time. Yeah, a walk to the beach sounds nice, you say to yourself just as the street signal turns green. You feel someone’s hand pulling you away, and you twirl around, facing Soonyoung’s back as he takes you back to his car.

“You’re dramatic as hell, you know that, right?” He shouts over his shoulder. “You didn’t even let me respond; you just hopped out like you were on the run.”

You stayed silent. What more could you say? He was right. He opens the passenger side, letting you slide in and shutting the door behind you. A few seconds later, he is on your other side, turning on the ignition.

“You not a terrible person,” he breathes. “A terrible person wouldn’t come sprinting out of their doom in boots and a nice outfit trying to apologize. You said you’re sorry, and it’s fine.” “Is it?”

“I mean, I’ll get over it,” he shrugs. “I wouldn’t have pulled you back here if I didn’t want to be around you. Now, do you still want to go back and forth about this, or do you want to make it up to me by going to this concert?” It’s a brief moment of silence as you seriously consider your options. You can tell Soonyoung is still bothered by what you did, but his small smile clarifies your decision. “Lead the way, tiger.”

He chuckles as he pulls out of the lot, pulling into a line of cars headed in the same direction. The sun starts to set, the golden hour hitting the horizon at the sea. You fold your arms, confused as to why he is being so nice to you, despite you being a bitch to him earlier. You haven’t felt forgiveness in a long time, which feels foreign. Uncomfortable. You hope this feeling will go away as the night goes on.

You mainly rode in silence aside from the music on the radio, and the hour trip to the venue seemed to be double that. You pull up to Bayfront Amphitheater, packed to the brim with people screaming their hearts out to the band onstage. Your heart skips in excitement, realizing what concert Soonyoung took you to.

“The Foo Fighters?” you grin, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’ve been wanting to see them forever.: “Yeah, I remember you were talking about it on the radio, so I figured why not,” his voice trails off.

Your heart feels like it is going to burst at the seams. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you, and you had the nerve to be a bitch to him earlier.

“Hey,” you clear your throat. “I’m sorry again. I feel really shitty about it.”

“I know,” he says. “Look, let’s just enjoy this concert, and I’ll forget about it, okay?” You nod, walking towards the loud music. The rhythm of the drums and guitar blended together, hyping the crowd. You let Soonyoung lead the way, checking your tickets and guiding you to your seats. The crowd is thick, with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol flowing freely, and everyone is caught in their own zone. You wouldn’t say you are claustrophobic, but being packed like sardines isn’t your definition of a good time. Soonyoung notices your discomfort and grabs your hand, holding tight until he finds your assigned seats. You felt safe with him, a tiny spark in you that made you swoon.

“Are you okay?” He shouts over the noise. “Do you want a beer or anything?” “Nah, I’m good,” you shake your head.

The opening act finishes their set, the crowd politely cheering as the members walk off the stage. There is a small intermission, with people disbursing from their seats to grab drinks or making quick trips to the bathroom. You can feel Soonyoung looking at you, his eyes burning into the left side of your face. You lick your lips and pull strands of your hair to the back of your ear, a blatant attempt at flirting.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night?” You feel bold, turning your body towards him. “I might,” he purrs. “I have a beautiful, mysterious girl sitting beside me.”

“I’m not that mysterious. We’ve been talking for weeks.” ‘Yeah, in front of thousands of people on the radio. Now I have you all to myself, and I want to get to know the real you.”

“Uh huh,” you nod. “Well, I’m always the same on and off air. You’ll see.” “I hope so.” He smiles at you, and gotta admit the man can flirt. Soonyoung is devastatingly handsome, and he’s quick with his words. It excites you. You like being around people you can banter with and not take shit personally. It takes a load off your shoulders, not having to hold yourself back every time. You just want to be you and be free. It feels like Soonyoung is chasing the same thing.

“I wouldn’t have predicted you’d be into rock bands like the Foo Fighters. What made you want to go to their concert aside from me?”

“Well, you might be surprised to hear this, but I actually like the band,” he laughs. “I’ve been following them since their debut.”

“Really?” you say. “That’s cool.” “What?” Soonyoung leans closer, your shoulder barely touching his. “Do I not seem like the Foo Fighters type?” “Aht aht,” you playfully wave your finger at him. “I’m not getting tripped up on that question.” You fell into a rhythm of laughter that felt natural as if you had been doing this all your life. Despite your fuck up, he makes you feel cozy and open. The sun makes one final appearance, shining its glorious light on his beautiful, tanned skin. You can fully admit to yourself that he’s handsome as fuck, taking him all in before the sun dips below the horizon. “No, but seriously, I don’t seem like the type to be into them?” You pause before responding, being careful with your answer. “On the surface, no. But I am learning that there is more to a person than meets the eye.” There is a comfortable silence between you two, the sweet-smelling breeze keeping you at bay as you sit and enjoy each other’s company. You have so much you want to say but don’t simultaneously. You savor this tiny bit of peace with him. “I think I am gonna grab a drink,” Soonyoung gets up suddenly. “Do you want anything?” “Yeah, like a juice or something.” You watch him leave, checking out his ass as he stands in the concessions line. Nice and firm, definitely a football player’s ass. You look away before being caught, watching the crew prepare for the next act. You feel like a young girl who just realized you have a crush on a boy. You’re giddy inside, hypersensitive to everything around you and how you look. You hope he finds you as attractive as he says he does, or if not, keep up the lie a little longer. You’ve been dealt many disappointments in your life, and you can’t let this be one of them.

“Here. I got you a lemonade.”

You gaze up at Soonyoung, carefully grabbing the cup from his hand. He has a cup of beer in the other, sipping before making a face. You laugh in your cup, tasting your sweet drink with some tart. You feel refreshed and a little bit alive, thanks to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, who’s ready for the FOO FIGHTERS?”

The crowd erupts into a roar as the band joins the stage, getting their placements to perform. Jolts of electric excitement course throughout your body, screaming your heart out before the first string is played on the guitar. You’ve always wanted to see them in concert, being a huge fan of Nirvana and following Dave Grohl after. Despite everything, he seems like a rad guy, and

if you ever had the opportunity, you would want to pick his brain and jam out with him. “ARE YOU MUTHAFUCKERS READY?” Dave Grohl shouts into the mic.

You both scream as the first song is played, the drums scratching the excellent part of your brain while the guitars take you to another level. You look at Soonyoung, his attention on the band with his arms folded, in awe of the performance being given. He looks adorable, and all you can do is smile, satisfied that you are in this space and can experience this moment. The band keeps playing hit after hit, the energy around you making you want to levitate in the clouds. You haven’t been this happy in a long time. You reach the last song of the night, and the key changes, the guitars riffing into a song you know all too well. “I want everyone to sing this song with us— this is for the regular heroes out there.”

You feel the emotion and intensity in Dave Grohl’s voice, making you emotional. The song is about the ordinary person and their potential; you wish your family saw your potential. You wish you could share your music with them and see you thrive in the elements you’re most comfortable in. But instead, you’ve been cast out, and as much as you worked hard to get over it, it hurts you deeply. “Are you okay?” Soonyoung looks at you wide-eyed; you’re unaware of the tears trickling down your face. All you want to do is be held and told everything will be okay. As if he read your mind, he holds your hand, his thumb rubbing your palm softly, keeping you anchored in your emotional storm. Nothing else needed to be said between you two; the song lyrics moved your spirit. Kudos, my hero

Leavin' all the mess

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary

“Thank you for taking me to the concert. I had a really good time.”

You sit with Soonyoung in his car, sitting outside of your dorm. You talked about music all the

way back home, singling your hearts out to whatever is on the radio. Soonyoung is surprisingly a good singer, hitting some notes even better than you can. You wonder if he had any training. “I’m glad I was able to make it up to you,” he grins. “Oh, please,” you wave him off. I’m the one who started us on the wrong foot.” “True. But I think you more than made up for it tonight.” “Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes playfully. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure.”

“Why were you crying during the concert?” You knew this question would come eventually, but you still felt unprepared. You hadn’t really talked about your family life with anyone besides Nikki, but you were determined to keep it to yourself. But he makes you want to open up. “The song really hits me,” you point at your chest. “I feel every word and every percussion note as it plays. It reminds me of my mom and dad, and I wish they saw me as a normal person with their own aspirations rather than the person they want me to be. It was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soonyoung nodded his head, understanding what you were saying.

“My parents wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, and I just don’t see myself doing that. I fell in love with music and singing, and when I shared that I wanted to do songwriting full-time, they made me feel so low. Like I am stupid and naive for wanting a career, I would actually be happy.” You huff, wiping fresh tears off of your face. “I just wanted them to support me, but they couldn’t even do that. Aside from my grandparents, they cut me off completely.” “That’s not cool,” Soonyoung scoffs. “So they just went cold turkey and quit talking to you?” You nod, bitterly reliving the last conversation you had with them before you made no contact. “Why can’t our parents just let us live the lives we want? It’s like they want to live vicariously through us.” “Right?!” You exclaim. “See, you get it!”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he mumbled. You turn your body to look at him, studying his face and the possible thoughts he is having. You may see more eye to eye than you realize. ‘So, what’s your damage?” You poke at him. “It’s the same as yours,” he revealed. “They just want me to keep playing basketball so I can go into the big leagues and take care of everyone. I am essentially everyone’s meal ticket.” “Well, you don’t have to be,” you say. “You could just say fuck ‘em and live for yourself.” “Easier said than done,” he sighs. “I’m the first person in my family to attend college, and I actually like playing basketball. I believe in it, bleed it, all that… but whenever I am around my folks or friends, that’s all they want me to be about it. It’s like I’m not real. I am a person with complex interests and feelings, too.”

“I know exactly what you mean, tiger.”

You smile reassuringly; you understand that last sentence all too well. Your family would rather consider you the family fuck up, the black sheep, instead of understanding that you wanted different things. Why is that so fucking complicated? You stifle a yawn, looking at your watch and seeing how late it was.

“I really like talking to you and being around you,” Soonyoung confesses. I hope we can do it more.” “Yeah,” you gaze into his eyes. “ I would love that.” He walks you to your dorm, opens the doors, and holds your waist as you walk up the steps. His hands bring jitters and butterflies in your stomach that you hope you can experience more. You know you have a hard, cold exterior on the outside, but deep down, you want to feel love and adoration from someone. You hope Soonyoung can bring that.

You never want this feeling to go away.

“Thank you for walking me in,” you say, unlocking the keys to your room. “I know I was being a bitch early, but thank you for showing me a good time anyway.”

“It was worth it, seeing a smile on your face.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah,” he leans in closer. “I want to see it more.”

His lips touch yours, your chest bursting like fireworks as he deepens the kiss. Your arms rest on his shoulders, feeling natural and comfortable like a glove. He is gentle and kind, not doing too much but making you feel safe and like you can depend on him. It's crazy how one kiss can have you seeing your future.

“We should do that more often,” you joke, leaving one last peck. He chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “We will. I’ll make sure to do it more often.”

“Okay,” you say, walking into your dorm. “I’ll hold you to it.”

#kvanity #kwritersworldnet #svthub #svt fanfic #svt oneshot #svt scenarios #svt imagines #soonyoung fanfic #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung angst #svt fluff #svt angst #hoshi fluff #hoshi angst #hoshi x reader

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 1 year

Text

We've created a monster (Brothers x MC)

In which the brothers find out that they've created a human with zero self preservation or reasonable fear of demons.

This rattled around in my head all morning, I just had to write it. Is it good? Probably not, but it exists and I like it, so there ;P

Sort of implied polyamory, possessive and protective demons.

If by some miracle anyone likes this sort of longer, random fic, please let me know, I'd be happy to write more little scenarios like these.

Warnings: none

Since arriving in the Devildom, MC has moved within the same "social" circle. They talk to the brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos, and the other exchange students. They've had no real need to move outside of that up to now.

They're civil with other demons, but the interactions are extremely limited and always under the watchful eye of someone they know and trust.

Even Luke's presence would be enough to dissuade any demons from getting ideas around the human who does not have magic rolling off them in waves.

Most are aware of their pacts with the lords and steer clear.

But demons aren't exactly known for riskless behaviour.

On the one day out of hundreds MC walked to class alone, wanting to get ahead on something, a demon of envy singled them out in the broad hallway.

He's big, tall, though still has nothing on Beel, and snaps vicious sharp teeth at them as he backs them into a wall.

'Humans like you shouldn't prance around a demon's home unguarded, not flaunting all those pacts.'

MC recognises that look, and cocks their head curiously. 'Levi wears envy better, you ought to practise in the mirror a little more.'

He takes one gargantuan step forward, letting loose a roar that threatened to shake loose bricks out of the walls.

Still, MC didn't flinch, didn't even take their hands out of their pockets. 'Stop that, it's too early for that kinda noise.'

'I am going to KILL you!'

Snorting, MC finally bothered to lift one hand from their pocket, tugging gently at the bonds of their pacts to find the magic they wanted. It wouldn't be much, really.

'No. You're not.'

A flick of the wrist, a muttered word, and the demon felt his body become too heavy to move, almost too heavy to breathe. He commanded his limbs to carry him, demanded that his magic answer his call.

Neither obeyed. None but his eyes, who watched the infuriating waif tuck their hand back in their pocket and carry on with their day, walking around him like he was an inconveniently placed statue.

'You thought you could scare me? I live with Lucifer and Satan you dipstick.' MC huffed, glancing at their watch and hurrying away, lest they lose their head-start on the day.

Just out of sight, Asmodeus had recorded the entire ordeal, fully ready to step in and protect the human (or better yet, set Satan on the bastard), and instead, finding himself capturing a side of their little MC none had seen yet.

He sends the video into the brother's group chat, and immediately all of Devildom breaks loose. Lucifer demands the offender be sent to him for punishment, until Asmodeus reminds him that the bastard is still frozen in the hallway with a smug selfie.

Instead, the eldest pulls everyone from their classes, including MC and calls an emergency council meeting. He doesn't even wait for Diavolo to be in attendance, so urgent is his need to address this.

Mammon had found his way to MC's side and is glued to them like a protective hex, he'll go nowhere, and will not be told otherwise, Levi and Beel take turns hovering at their other side, the elder glowering like a gargoyle while the younger hooks a finger in the edge of MC's pocket and follows them around like a lost puppy.

MC does no more than go with the flow, as usual. They slide under Mammon's arm and teases him for turning red despite his focus on protecting them.

Once everyone is seated, MC finally asks the question.

'So, what's this about? Never thought I'd see you endorse us all missing class, Lucifer.'

'We're here to talk about the incident this morning, MC.' Lucifer began as calmly as possible. His blood still boils that anyone would dare try and harm his human simply because his back was turned. 'The envy demon, did he hurt you?'

'Oh, him? No, didn't even touch me. Is that why Satan looks ready to butcher someone?'

The avatar of Wrath is living up to his name, he's quietly glaring holes into the floor and no one dares interrupt him.

'You don't seem to realise how much danger you were just in, MC.' Lucifer broaches carefully, unwilling to trigger his own temper even though MC can clearly see it in his eyes. 'You dealt with it cleverly, but if that had been a smarter demon, one who struck without you knowing-'

MC pondered his point for a moment, rolling their bottom lip between their teeth. 'What would happen to a demon that killed me? Like the one today, if he had actually done something.'

A crash filled the room, Satan's magic lashing out, pushing him into his demon form as the very thought of anyone laying hands on what is clearly his sent him spiralling.

His brothers jump back, while MC, jumps in.

They're in front of him in seconds, big eyes speaking of kindness and love, and though the wrath still boils in his belly, his magic stops writhing for blood.

'Breathe, I'm right here.' MC reminds him, not daring to touch until she feels the pact bond settle. 'It's not going to happen, yeah?'

'It almost did, and you're not nearly as worried as you should be!' Belphegor snapped. 'You're human, anyone could-!'

'He was one idiot with a death wish, and he couldn't even lay hands on me when I was alone. Who the fuck do you think is going to go for me with you guys around?'

They have a point, that doesn't settle the unease in the room, and it shoes as Satan nuzzles into their hair, pressing his chest to their back.

He's the last one to show physical affection in front of anyone, let alone Lucifer, but the need to touch them outweighs his pride, clearly.

MC lets him cling on, and carries on the conversation without missing a beat, gently rubbing their thumb over the back of Satan's hand.

'But, you really weren't scared. Not even a little.' Beel uttered softly, big eyes shimmering with worry. 'He looked right at you and told you he'd kill you.'

'And? Most of you have said that to me at least once, hell, one of you succeeded.'

The youngest flinched, MC threw him a smile.

'Honestly, who in the demon King's name is gonna scare me, when you guys can't?'

Realisation dawned on them then, spending all their time with the 7 Lords of the Devildom had completely desensitised MC to demons.

If they could stare down Lucifer on a rampage, throw themselves between him and someone he means to kill, who the hell is supposed to be scarier than him?

Lucifer voices the point aloud, and Asmodeus breaks into laughter, soon followed by Leviathan.

'That is kinda funny.' Snorted the third-born. 'I think we broke MC.'

The twins soon join in, and MC felt Satan's chest tremble and he settled his chin atop their head, now free of his demon form.

'Guys, this ain't a good thing!' Mammon wailed. 'If MC ain't scared o' nothin', what's stoppin' 'em from just walkin' into Cerberus' mouth or somethin'?!'

'Uh...common sense?' MC added dryly. 'Not being afraid of dying doesn't make me want to die, dipstick.'

'Hey!'

'Which brings me to my next point, when did you learn to call on all our magic at once like that?' Lucifer swiftly interjected. 'Solomon said he's taught you nothing but basics.'

'I'm in school, you know? I don't get good grades for decoration. I knew it wasn't worth summoning any one of you so I just grabbed all the threads at once and squeezed.'

'Honey, you're telling us you had a demon threatening to kill you and just...winged it?' Asmo concluded.

The human merely shrugged. 'Pretty much.'

'...we've created a monster.'

Part 2

#obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #drabble #headcannon #obey me brothers x mc #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan

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non-stop-imagines · 8 months

Text

Be My Baby

Prequel to Repeat That

From this, this, this, this, and this request!💖

Word Count: ~11k words w/ smau

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Black Content Creator!Reader ( Halle Bailey face claim)

Warning: Smut (p in v, masturbation (?),), Soft!Dom and protective Max, reader going into a subspace for the first time and Max handling it like a champ, Twitter Environment, mention of food, mention of alcohol, Max yearning literally the entire way through 😘 Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: Round of applause everyone! It's here! It's done! You all need to pat yourselves on the back for getting me through this. It was literally the most stressful yet enjoyable thing to write, because, fun fact I am a perfectionist when I am doing this for other people and I just wanted this to be all you ever hoped for. Hope you all popped your popcorn, got out a blanket, and have the lights down low. LOVE YOU ALL SO FREAKING GOSH DARN MUCH!!!💖💛💖💛💖 (Also I didn't write the fic from the song but it came on while on my way to work and I was like "wow, this is perfect")

A/N 2: All of the pictures used for the smau portions are all from pinterest and are not my own product.

Masterlist

___________________★♥★___________________

babygurlyn

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babygurlyn Stay tuned! 👀🏎️

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user1 She goin on side quests now??

user2 Finna stunt on that entire paddock in that outfit 💖😫

f1 👀👀

>babygurlyn Excited for my first race!🤩

>f1 Excited to have you 😁

user3 Okay but imagine one of the drivers falling in love with her so she can drop her punk ass dude 🫥

>user4 My money is on Lando 🧍🏼‍♀️

"You guys, I don't know how, I definitely don't know why, but we are here. Where is here you ask? Well if you didn't pay attention to the title of the video, I am in Miami for the inaugural Formula 1…hold on there's and entire name. Give me a second." You hold up a finger to your camera and reach into your fanny pack that you had strapped across your body for your phone, opening up your browser. "Formula 1 Crypto.com Miami Grand Prix." You smile back at the camera as you clumsily replace your phone back in the pack. "Like I said before, I'm not completely sure why I was chosen to attend because I have NEVER watched Formula 1, but you guys have heard me yell at my boyfriend for having it on too loud while I'm recording, so maybe that has something to do with it. Either way, thank you to Formula 1 for the invite, can't wait to learn about the sport in person" After one last bright smile to the camera, you stop the camera and drop your arm, a chipper smile still on your face as you practically bounce to the turnstiles to enter the paddock, in awe of the number of people, large buildings, and TV cameras through the area. You look for the group you were with, various other famous content creators invited to the Grand Prix, but have no luck as the crowd of people thickened, which seemed surprising to you. "Shouldn't some of these kids be at school? It's Friday!" You mildly whisper to yourself as you look for any sign of familiarity. You walk further into the area, starting to pass by the previously mentioned buildings, politely smiling at people but neglecting to ask for assistance. You initially were actively looking for the group you were with, but after a long stint of time with no familiar face, you just counted your losses and began to explore the area on your own.

Now, while you were unsure as to why you were chosen to attend the grand prix, and had absolutely no idea how Formula 1 works, you’ve always been fascinated. You would watch races in passing, as your boyfriend would have the TV hemmed up every race weekend, and have watched him play the video game a couple times, but you’ve been too afraid to ask how everything worked, not wanting to be called stupid or anything else for inquiring about something that you genuinely wanted to know more about. So being here, seeing a race weekend in person, alone, was honestly exactly what you needed, as long as you keep your ringer off so as to not have your text tone be a constant nuisance.

You decided that if you were going to explore everything yourself, it might as well be on camera, so lift up your vlogging camera which was strapped to your wrist and hit record. “Okay so…I lost everyone. I was vlogging and didn’t realize the group left and so technically I am lost. BUT I should be able to find where I need to go and you guys are going to come with me." You continue to walk further into the paddock, looking around for anything that may be able to point you in the correct direction. Somewhere along your journey, you found yourself venturing between buildings passing boxes and stacks of tires. "Okay, I'm starting to think that I'm not supposed to be here. It feels very top secret." You take another look at the cases, paying attention to the logo. "Red Bull? Like the drink?" You keep walking, camera facing you, and you looking everywhere but forward, fascinated by the behind the scenes glimpse that you were getting. Unfortunately, this meant you were blindly walking forward, unaware of the person walking the opposite direction who tried to stop for you, but you still crashed into them, bouncing back and beginning to fall backwards due to the force you walked into them with. Luckily, the unknown person was able to quickly reach around you to keep you upright, loosening their grip once they're sure you're steady on your feet, but still keeping their hands on your waist.

You look up into blue eyes, widened from the shock of the sudden interaction, messy blond hair and slightly parted pink lips that confirms the look of concern. "Sorry."

"That's okay." You were an angel to Max. It was the look of your wide brown eyes, the depth and darkness of your irises enhancing their bright innocent look, and adding to the bubbly aura you exuded. He felt the need to grin or smile at you because you were looking up at him like a scared puppy, waiting for punishment.

"I should've been watching where I was going. I really am sorry. Geez, I always do that, get too wrapped up in everything else and I don't pay attention to what's around me." You continue to grumble to yourself as you lift up your camera to stop your vlog recording.

"Hey, really, it's okay. I'm fine, still intact." Max finally lifted his hands from your waist to motion up and down his body, a gesture that makes you chuckle, lifting the mood slightly, before you continue to look around, trying to figure out where you came from. "Uh, quick question," Max's voice reminds you of his presence, his looming height still watching you curiously. You nod, allowing him to continue with his question. "Do you know who I am?" You tilt your head to the question that was posed with genuine wonder. You seemed so unphased by his presence, and he would think that even a person who disliked him would have reacted, negatively or otherwise.

"Oh, no I- are you security!? Because I really just got lost, I'm not trying to steal secrets or anything. This is my first race, I wouldn't know what secrets to steal-"

"Hey, it's fine. It was a stupid question. Uh, so, this is your first race? Have you watched Formula 1 before?" Max's arm props up the other as he reflexively scratches at his neck with a singular finger.

"Yeah, but I've never watched Formula 1 before. My boyfriend does though, I just…I don't know. I feel like he would make fun of me if I asked him about it so I've refrained." Your eyes venture down from his face for the first time, giving you a glimpse of the race suit he had on, like the ones in the couple of driver photos you noticed on the way in. "I like your costume. You must be, like, a Formula 1 super fan."

"Yeah, you can say that." The throaty chuckle that came from Max made you feel warm, a sentiment building for the stranger.

"I do have a question." It was your turn now, and the rise of Max's eyebrows in intrigue made your heart skip a beat. "Red Bull? Is there really a team for the energy drink?"

"Haha, yes. Yes, there is. I think they're pretty alright." You loved the bright laughing smile that grew on his face, it was contagious and caused you to reciprocate a short giggle.

"I can see that." You take a moment to recall what you saw while walking down the paddock earlier. "I think I saw that there was a pink team. I'll probably support them until I learn the sport and all the teams." Max chuckles lightly at your statement and briefly checks his watch for the time, something that alerts you to do the same. "Oh, I think something is supposed to start soon."

"Yeah, I definitely should get going. Oh, but let me help you first." Max starts looking up from your face and begins mentally mapping out where he needed to go.

"Oh! Uh, do you want to be in my vlog? Completely forgot about this thing." You lift up the hand that was looped through the strap of your vlog camera.

"Ah, sure. I would love to." There was that smile again, one that took up his entire face and that you had to tear your eyes from to start recording.

"Okay, guys. So, I found a sign of life." You maneuvered yourself so you were standing next to him and could see in the flipped up viewfinder that he was in the shot as well. "Everyone, this is- oh! I didn't get your name!"

"Max." After your realization, you had turned your head to look at Max so when he answers he turns his head to look into your eyes, camera be damned.

"Max…" You stop for a moment, the thinking face you make while still looking at Max was five steps past adorable. "Can I call you Maxie? I think it fits you."

"Yes, you can." Max chuckles at the refreshing innocence and oblivion that you approached him with. It was nice to be "Maxie" for a moment and not Max Verstappen.

"Everyone, this is Maxie, apparently a Red Bull super fan with this racing costume that I love," You look towards him again and wave your hand in his general vicinity after making sure the camera could see the rest of his body.

"Thank you." Max actively stops the laugh that is trying to come out, opting for a wide, flattered grin.

"You're welcome!" It was your turn now to flash a bright smile up Max that made him melt. You turn back to the camera. "Maxie here is going to help me find my way out of the, what I am assuming is, restricted area that I found my way into, so let's all say thank you to Maxie." You stop the recording and fully turn your body to Max, flipping down the viewfinder and ensuring that your camera was off. "Thank you, again. Really. This has all been pretty stressful, so it's nice to have gotten a bit of kindness today. Anyhoo, lead the way Maxie!" Max chuckles and motions in the direction you two would be going, but instead of walking in front of you he walked beside you, taking a mental snapshot of how it felt to have you beside him.

"Why has this been stressful, if you don't mind me asking?" You guys continue behind the buildings, heading what felt like further down the paddock.

"Oh, not at all. Um, well, I've had to turn the ringer on my phone down because my boyfriend has been blowing me up complaining and questioning why I came here when I know nothing about Formula 1 and that I should've asked for another ticket for him or let him go instead…The past week has been a mess in that department. And now embarrassingly getting lost and having to have a random helpful stranger, with a very comforting smile and aura by the way, assist me in finding my way. At least vlogging it lightens the blow a bit." You swing your arms a bit, looking at the buildings you're passing by.

"Thank you for the compliment. And I'm glad I am able to help, even if it is just a little bit." He purposefully does not mention your boyfriend, you've only mentioned him twice and both times gave Max chest pains. You both walk a few more steps then stop nearly in sync at the opening of another alley with a view of the paddock. "Okay, so, I believe if you walk through there and turn left there should be signs leading you to the grandstands. Hopefully there will be someone there that can lead you to where you need to go." You turn to face Max again and a gentle grin plants itself on his face, wishing he could just stay with you all day.

"Thank you again for being so kind. I hope you have a good time at the race." You smile politely and then start making your way down the alleyway between paddock buildings.

"Wait! I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Max closed the gap a bit between you two with a couple of steps.

"Oh, it's Yn." That adorable smile was plastered on your face when you turned back to Max.

"Well, Yn, I hope we can see each other again. At this race or another." He grinned again. Truthfully he hated seeing you leave. He hated that he actually had no time for what he was doing right now, but he could care less about that. What he loved though, was finally knowing your name and hearing it come from his mouth for the first time. It felt as natural as breathing. What he loved even more was hearing his newly minted nickname in your beautiful voice as you responded.

"Me too, Maxie! See ya!" And then, to Max's despair, you were off toward the grandstands and he had to turn back to get ready for FP1.

You stalk up to the Red Bull motorhome, showing security the necessary pass before walking into the building, grinning politely at people in passing until a woman approaches you smiling and holding another pass.

"Yn! Hi, I'm Carrie, I'm the head of hospitality for Red Bull Racing." She holds out her empty hand that you meet with a handshake. "Welcome to Monaco. I'm glad to see that you made it here in one piece." She waves for you to follow her and hands you the pass as you two begin to walk out of the building and across the paddock.

"I'm glad too, the Miami, uh," You took a moment to remember the Formula 1 lingo you’ve learned since Miami. "Paddock. The Miami paddock was a walk in the park compared to this one." You giggle and follow Carrie into what you assume is the garage.

"Yeah, Monaco is a very complicated place on many different levels." She continues to lead you through the barriers of the garage.

"Can I ask a quick question?" You both stop and move to the side . "Is it Red Bull that invited me here or, you know…Max?" You weren't sure why, but you were desperate to know this information.

"Both. But I will say that was Max's idea." She points to the pass she gave you and you guys continue to walk further into the garage. "Well, it was more of a demand. But either way, he wants you in that garage with him." Those were some of the last words exchanged between you and Carrie sans you thanking her and her telling you to have a good time before a familiar face turns towards you, the bored stone face he had quickly morphing to his contagious smile that you can't help but return.

"Hey!" He approaches you with his arms out and hesitantly pulls you into a side hug, only truly doing so once you approach him with both arms out, wrapping them around his torso.

"Hi, Max." You try hard to make your voice sound chipper, trying to camouflage the pain and stress from the past week.

"Wait a minute, what happened to Maxie?" You hadn't let go of him yet, and he was completely fine with it. You were too busy finding comfort in the scent of his cologne in his polo, and he was too busy reveling in the feel of your body in his arm.

"Sorry, Maxie. These past few weeks have been a doozy." You abruptly let go of him, to which he reacts quickly and does the same, allowing you to straighten out his shirt and ensure that none of your makeup had transferred.

"Well, do you want to go talk about it?" Max had quickly missed your touch once you were done fixing him up, so, upon his proposition, he reached out to touch your elbow, dipping his head a little to look into your eyes.

"No, no. I'll be fine. You're probably busy, anyway." You look towards the people Max was talking to the moment before you entered, their eyes urging Max back over.

"They can wait. It's Thursday, we have all day." Max looks over to the people now, his face not visible from the angle you looked at him but you were able to see annoyance and slight fright in their eyes before they turn and go on to do some other pre-race weekend task.

"Oh, okay." You don't know when Max got a grasp on your hand, but as quick as you answered you were being guided in the direction opposite of the open Red Bull garage leading to the pitlane. The short walk was wordless, but you could feel that Max's aura was…unwelcoming as you two walked by people that would have stopped him if they didn't feel like he would have bitten their head off. Max reaches a door that he quickly opens and shuts and then, almost as if he were two different people, his demeanor softens as he nervously grabs two chairs so you two could sit facing each other.

"Sorry about that. People tend to bother me unless I look like I'm headed somewhere pissed off." He chuckles and waits for you to sit before sitting himself.

"I see. That's okay. Trust me, I know that sometimes you just don't want to be bothered." After your affirming statement, you two sit quietly in Max's driver room, silently studying each other.

"So, how have you been?" You speak up first, postponing explaining how the past couple of weeks have gone for you.

"Fine. Been pretty happy with how the team has been performing and…what?" Max stops in the middle of his spiel when he sees a small twist in your facial expression, a slight crinkle producing between your eyebrows.

"Oh, nothing. Sorry. Continue, please." You immediately brighten your face attempting to get Max to continue talking, but it doesn't work. Instead, a tired neutral expression settles on his face.

"No, what's wrong?" You seem to instinctively cower under his intense gaze, having no choice but to answer.

"Nothing, I just…no, nevermind. It's not important. Keep going." You force a smile onto your face, or at least a mild grin with widened eyes, anything to signal that you were ready to listen to whatever he had to say.

"No, Yn. Don't do that. What's wrong?" Max leans forward from his previously reclined position, his complete focus on you. It was interesting seeing his face in that moment, eyes noticeably more wide open but still holding a soft, attentive gaze and his mouth clamped shut producing a straight line with his lips, adding the tone of seriousness to his expression.

"It's just that, I want to hear how you've been doing. Not how driving is or how the team is doing, even though I know that's part of how you're doing. I just don't understand that stuff, yet." At this point you've looked away from Max, placing all of your visual attention on you nails, running your thumb along the white gel polish on your fingers. "I want to know how you have been doing. How have you slept? Have you done anything fun recently? Spent time with friends or family or something…"

"Ah, that's fair. Um, well…" He looks away for a moment to gather his thoughts, recounting the previous 2 weeks that were honestly full of race preparation. He then looks back up at you, your head tilted, ponytail falling to the side, your complete attention on him as indicated by large, unblinking eyes. "Truthfully, I've just been preparing for races these past couple of weeks. After Miami we had a week off, but that week was spent getting ready for back to back races with Spain last week and Monaco this week." Your eyebrows scrunch together again, but this time Max knew exactly why. "But I think I got enough sleep and slept well enough. Just didn't have enough time for leisure."

"Okay…" Your face didn't change much, except a slightly more exaggerated pout as you accepted his answer.

"Now, your turn." Max laughs at how quick your face turns to shock when you realized your stalling time had run out.

"Oh, well you know, it's sad and kinda infuriating to talk about…" You weren't looking at Max's face as you spoke but you did once you paused and it was back to the wide eyed, neutral face expression that got you talking moments before, and it worked its magic again. "Okay, well, I guess I really haven't talked about it to anyone and I really need to because this has really been ruining my mood and I don't like being sad…long story short, me and my boyfriend broke up."

If you could see into Max's chest, his heart would have been doing flips. He hated to see you sad but, boy, did he like hearing that you were single. "Oh." Max knew it was best for him to say as few words as possible, because if given the chance, he would've said everything that he wanted to when he first met you.

"Yeah. It was time, honestly. I finally realized that I deserved to be treated so much better." Your words made Max's ears perk.

"Wait, so did you break up with him, or…" his question trailed off since you nodded before he could finish.

"Yeah." You shrugged and gave him a sad grin. "He was just so mean to me. All the time. He would treat me like a child." You laugh hollowly. "After my Miami Grand Prix vlog blew up, sorry for that, by the way. Not knowing who you are and the whole 'Maxie' thing-"

"Hold on." Max's stern words startled you to silence. "You don't need to apologize for either of those things. First of all, I didn't care about whether or not you knew who I was. I actually liked the fact you didn't know who I was. Second of all, I like 'Maxie', especially, well, really only when you call me 'Maxie', but we can't have everything." You finally crack a grin, which was greater than any race win or championship he has ever received. He really just needed you to smile, even though his true goal was to get feel the bright, playful aura that you exuded when you two first met, but he knew that would require time for you to heal from your breakup and time for you to become comfortable with him, and he had nothing but time.

"Well, good. But even still, I was a bit embarrassed once the video went out and I found out who you were, but nothing too bad. It took me maybe a day and a half to get over the embarrassment and laugh with everyone. But, for some reason, my boyfriend wouldn't let it go. He was like 'How could you be so fucking stupid to not know that was Max Verstappen' and 'With how much I watch formula 1, you should have known who he was.'" You mock your ex's words, not seeing the grin that grows on Max's face, that is quickly replaced with shock when you abruptly continue talking. "How could I have known if he never gave me the time of day to teach me!! He would always just brush me off and say that I 'wouldn't understand'..." Your fiery-ness dulled. "This was the last straw for me though. Who calls someone a dumb bitch because they didn't know who someone was."

Max has never wanted to punch someone as bad as he did in that moment. He just couldn't understand how someone could be so mean to you. So degrading. You didn't deserve that. "He sounds like a cunt."

"Woah, Maxie!" A laugh. Max finally got a laugh out of you after your downward spiral. "That's… a word."

"Am I wrong? From the little bit you have told me about him, he sounds like a cunt." He shrugs and you grin, mildly, but amused.

"He was an asshole.” Nothing could have contained the smile that Max had after a split second of shock from your claim.

“Woah, there. Language.” The laughter that fills the driver’s room lifts the gloom that previously surrounded you two.

“I know. I think I need to wash my mouth out with soap now." As the laughter dies down that sad grin that Max wanted to kiss away takes root on your face once more. "It kinda sucks though, cause a small piece of me still misses him. But I think it's more because he was there for a lot of big things that happened in my life, especially with my channel and everything. So that'll take some time to get over, but I will."

"Makes sense." And truly it did make sense to Max to miss someone you've been through a lot with. Besides, Max was selfishly glad that you had such a positive outlook on the situation because it only took him a split second to answer the question he had the moment you said you broke up with your boyfriend:

Was he really going to pursue you a week after your break up?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

He then had to fill the silence that had fallen over you two, quickly realizing he was going through a similar situation, one that he only just thought to mention. "Actually, me and my girlfriend broke up…just over a month ago?" Max had to think. The event was so unemotional and uneventful that it slipped his mind.

"Oh, I'm sorry. What happened?" Max saw the pity in your eyes and tried to remedy it with a gentle smile and a shrug.

"Somewhere along the way our lives and plans didn't align anymore. It was the best for both of us." He added to a mental list another face of yours that he adored. It was contemplative, showing that you were really analyzing his situation.

"Hmm, that's pretty cool. That you both were able to come to that decision, and able to do it without anyone getting hurt." You felt your phone vibrate and went to check the importance of the notification, along with the time. "Oh! I've held you up for half an hour!"

Max slowly stands with you when you pop out of your seat at the realization. "That's fine, trust me. I'm not the biggest fan of Thursdays and all of the media stuff."

"That's fine for you, but this is my first race as a guest of Red Bull. I do not want to be known as 'the distraction'." You make sure you have everything before heading towards the door.

"You'd be the best distraction Red Bull has ever had. They'd be lucky." Max uses the advantage of his longer legs to beat you to the door, opening it for you.

"Well, let's not wait and find out." You both exit the driver room and make your way to the motorhome, finding Carrie sitting at a table doing some work on her phone.

You had already gone off toward the counter saying something about getting coffee leaving Max to talk to Carrie. "Hey, could you just make sure she's comfortable until I'm done?" Carrie looks up at Max through her eyelashes, eyebrows raised. "What?" The smile Max had was mischievous as he knew that Carrie could see through the motive of his award winning hospitality.

"Yeah, I'll make sure she's comfortable. That's my job isn't it?" She chuckles softly and looks back down at what she was doing on her phone, unable to contain a grin of amusement from watching the driver fall head over heel for the oblivious content creator.

"This is good coffee." You take a sip from the cup in your hand, smiling and greeting the woman you met earlier in the day. "Hey, wait. You're supposed to be off doing things."

"I know I just had to talk to Carrie about something." Max's eyes scan down your face, starting at your bright brown eyes traveling down your nose to your lips, which he now noticed were glossed and shiny, but as they reached your cup he could see that some of the gloss has transferred.

"Well looks like you’re done, so go.” You attempt to shoo him away but he doesn’t move, just grins at you for a moment before reaching his hand out.

“Let me see your phone.” You squint suspiciously and pout at him but still follow directions, reaching into your bag, grabbing your phone, unlocking it and handing it to him. He taps some things into the phone then hands it back to you.

“I’ll text you when I’m done. Please don’t leave before that, okay?” His face quickly turned neutral, eyes widening in request for an answer.

“Okay, I’ll try.” You crumble under his intense gaze, but still stand firm to flick your head toward the door, to which he finally leaves through after one last amused grin. You plop down in the chair on the opposite side of the table and set your coffee down on the table, all while looking at your phone. It was nothing special, just a text to his own phone that said “Yn’s number”, but it was the fact that he made his own contact name “Maxie”, the look he gave you before leaving, the fact that he urged you to stay and wait for him, it caused a flutter in your chest.

“We’ve been calling him Maxie around here for the past week. He pretends he doesn’t like it, but we all know he does.” Carrie’s voice breaks through your thoughts and you look up at her, processing the words she just said before grinning shyly, shrugging then looking back down at your phone.

"He's definitely more of a Maxie." You stare at his contact for one more moment before starting something else on your phone.

Unfortunately, meetings for Max ran late, made worse due to postponement from his tardiness, so you had to head back to your hotel without seeing him for the rest of Thursday. Friday through Sunday, on the other hand, he did as much as he could to have his eye on you, much to your oblivion. He was not going to go another moment without you in his life.

________________

redbullracing

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 180,036 others

redbullracing A new friend came to hang out with us 😍

View all 423 comments

user5 HOW IS SHE SO PRETTY!?!?!

>redbullracing She said it was a secret 🤫

maxverstappen1 Was so glad to see you again, Yn!

>babygurlyn Was happy to see you again to Maxie! Glad we got to talk 😚

>user7 Talk about what? TALK ABOUT WHAT?

>landonorris Glad I got to meet the woman, the myth, the legend as well 😉

>babygurlyn It was lovely meeting you as well 💖

user6 Max you better come get your admin

>maxverstappen1 I'll keep an eye on them 😐

>redbullracing Hey, Max, hey 👋

redbullracing

Liked by danielricciardo and 167,472 others

realdbullracing Watch out for a video with these two besties #AustrianGP

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user8 I wish my job was trying to set me up with the love of my life 😕

danielricciardo I had the pleasure of watching them film this video, you guys are in for a treat 😁

>maxverstappen1 When were you ever there?

>danielricciardo Exactly 🥷🏼

user9 That's was literally my fav fit from her clothing haul. Absolutely stunning 🥰

babygurlyn I had a great time, but I'll say this right now, you don't want Max Verstappen to teach you how to drive

>maxverstappen1 I was nice

>babygurlyn 🫥

“Say ‘Hi.’ to the camera, Maxie.” You practically bounce into the studio where Red Bull was filming the Youtube video prior to the Austrian Grand Prix. You couldn't tell that the brightness of Max's face increased ten-fold because you were used to his smile and enthusiasm, but the crew setting up, and surely your viewers once you post this video, can see it, hiding their amusement behind the work they were doing.

"Oh, hello." He waves to the camera and then smiles his "Hello" to you, one that you respond to with a bright, exaggerated, playful smile.

"Alright, you guys. I'll talk to you later 'cause this is hush hush. Okay? Byeeee!" You cover the lens and stop the recording, then reach your arm out to give him a side hug. The hug lingers a bit, allowing Max to truly become intoxicated by the vanilla hint in your perfume. "Hi! So, who do I thank for this invitation?"

"Red Bull. And EA Sports, I guess. This video was a bit of a surprise to me too. I didn’t know they would bring you in, I think they like our dynamic.” Max has to take a step back from you once the hug breaks as precaution, he knew if he stayed too close he would reach out to touch you again. Instead he crosses his arms.

“Good. I like hanging out with you.” You tilt your head and flash that innocent smile at Max.

“I-uh-like your outfit. It’s from your new video, isn’t it?” Max pulled that information from the back of his mind, remembering how much he loved you in each outfit tried on in your latest haul, which was the last video he watched after binge watching multiple videos on your channel.

“You’ve been watching my videos!?” If Max knew this was the face he would’ve gotten after mentioning your content, widened eyes and a smile so wide that your dimples are accentuated due to the rise in your cheekbones, it would’ve been the first thing he said the moment you walked through that door. Heck, he would’ve facetimed you the moment he clicked on the first video.

“Of course. You come to my races, I watch your videos.” Max had to play it cool. He shrugs out his words, trying to make it seem as much of a normal common courtesy as possible.

“Well now I gotta make sure I come to all of your races.” You poke Max’s chest, still grinning up at him.

“I’ll make sure, trust me.” You can feel a shift in the air, the tone of Max’s words playful yet serious, his eyes and the neutral set of his face accentuating the seriousness.

“You better.” You dramatically flip your ponytail then look at the driving rig set up at the other side of the room. "So, we're using that today?"

"You're using that today. I'm just instructing." Max smiles at the concern and confusion that morphs onto your face. "Didn't they tell you what they video was?"

"No. I didn't ask. They told me I was going to be doing a video with you and I just agreed." There goes that, borderline clinically concerning, squeezing of his chest at the mere knowledge that you trusted him enough to just agree to do something with him, no questions asked. Still, he had to use this as a lesson for you.

"I'm flattered, but from now on, don't agree to anything without asking questions, please?" He gives you that stern raised eyebrow look that threateningly persuades you into answering.

"Okay, sorry." You try to maintain eye contact but your instincts get the better of you, making you look hesitantly down and away from Max.

"That's okay, no need for sorry." His smile was back on his face, trying to fix the mood in the air that he could feel changed much more than intended. He was instantly relieved when he saw the reciprocated smile you gave back. "Uh, the video. You will be driving two laps around the Austria track on the game while I direct you on how to do it."

"Oh, joy." You weren't looking at Max when you answered, instead you were nervous smiling at the set up.

"What? it won't be that bad. I'm a great teacher." Max crosses his arms and watches skepticism flash across your face.

"You probably are, but you also seem kinda stern, so that scares me. I also don't know how to drive, so…" You shrug and grin pitifully up at Max.

"Wait, you don't have your license or anything?" You couldn't help but laugh at the concerned face Max gave you after your admittance, shaking your head to wordlessly answer the question. "Why? How do you get around?" Max was truly concerned. He didn't like the idea of you taking Ubers or anything else with a virtual stranger. If it was up to him, as long as you didn't have a license he would be driving you everywhere. But it's not up to him.

"Uber, friends, things like that. I literally created a "Ride Money" account instead of just learning how to drive." Max's face doesn't change. "Driving is scary."

"No, it's not." You scrunch your eyebrows and pout at his quick matter-of-fact answer.

"Easy for you to say." You grumble, perking up a bit when a person who seemed to move around like they were in charge of this whole ordeal enters the room.

"You know what? If all goes well here I think I should teach you how to drive." Max doesn't care about who enters the room, he keeps his eyes on you, watching as your face gives away how much you are trying to listen to the conversation across the room.

"At your own risk. I'm telling you, the moment I get behind that wheel, my head gets all full and I can't think straight. It's terrible." Your focus was still on the people behind the camera, their attention now on you and Max.

"I'm sure you'll do fine here and behind the wheel of an actual car. You seem like you pick things up quickly." This compliment tears your attention away from the people and finally brings it back to him.

"Oh. Well thank you, Maxie." You pause for a beat. " I guess we'll see." Right after you spoke, almost as if it was planned, the person who seemed to be some sort of director for the video approached you two to explain how the video will work. You were listening diligently, nodding intermittently at the words being spoken, but Max, on the other hand, could only focus on you, and while a million things were moving through his head, one problem seemed to stand out: you and your lack of a license. He didn't want you to have to rely on Uber or other people. He wanted to be the one you relied on.

He wanted to make sure you were getting places safely, even if it was just a short stint of knowing.

Maybe you could come stay with him over the summer break.

The bass of the dance music blasting through the speaker of the Ibiza club had you moving and jumping in time with it. That and the 2 vodka cranberries and a Screwdriver that you've had so far. You were on stage in a VIP section behind the DJ, Martin Garrix, a name you know you've heard before who apparently are basically best friends with Max and Lando. Max watched you from the couch, nursing a single beer and keeping an eye on you. He had made a silent rule, known to others in VIP by a simple stern look whenever someone got too close to you, that no one was allowed to dance with you except for Lando, since he had a clear idea of how much Max was intrigued and infatuated by you. When a transition between songs began Max could see you trying to say something to Lando while pointing over at him before jogging, your feet moving in a shuffling manner, toward him.

"Maxie, come dance!" You grabbed his hands and tried to use all of your own strength to pull him up, almost falling backwards, but Max uses the grip he already has on your hands to pull you back to him, falling into his chest and him basically clamping you there.

"Maybe flat sandals next time will keep that from happening." You were listening, but your body told you to keep dancing to the music. As the beat crescendoed, preliminary to a bass drop, you twisted with Max, dancing like you're at a middle school dance, still hand in hand.

"It's not the shoes, I wear these all the time! And the heel is only, like, 3 inches. That was because of the vodka!" You burst out laughing and begin jumping when the beat drops in the song currently playing.

"Fine. Just be careful." He gave you a concerned smile, and in response you reached up and briefly squeezed his cheeks.

"Okaayy! Stop worrying!" You get very touchy feely when you're drunk, you knew it, so while it was a surprise to Max, it was no surprise to you that you started to mess with Max's hair, combing your fingers through the blonde strands. You guys continue dancing, but rather than it being playful like before, there was a lustful longing that moved between you two. It started with the eye contact, the natural squint in his eyes and your eyelids drooping due to you intoxication. Then it was hand placement. Max had rested his hands on your hips and you had wrapped your arms around his neck, bodies pressed against each other. You two were moving to the music, somewhat slowly, but still on beat. This lasted for nearly and entire song but there was a brief moment where you looked away to check the drinks in the table, noticing that 2 of the juice mixers were gone. You break away and head over, Max following behind immediately. Lando was sitting on the couch, one leg resting on the other, that was until you made it over and picked up the 2 empty bottles, preparing to have to go over to the bar to get more. "They're empty." You pout looking back and forth between the two bottles in your hand.

"That's what happens when you just drink the juice. We can just ask someone to get some more." Just as Max was lifting his hand to call someone over, you rebuttal.

"No, I'll go get some. The bar is right over there." You weren't wrong. The bar was just approximately 20 feet off the stage, up against the side wall of the club.

"I'll come with you." Max offers but you wave him off, grinning widely at him.

"I got this. I'm a big girl." And without giving him time to protest, you were practically bouncing away and down the stage steps, security posted there blocking the people on the dance floor from you. Max just heads back to the couch, plopping down and keeping an eye on you as you smile and say something to the bartender before handing them the bottles.

"You're right. She is very oblivious to what you're doing." Lando tells his friend, shouting over the music.

"So I am obvious?" He turns abruptly, desperate to know how someone outside of you and him saw your interaction.

"Very." Lando takes a sip of the brown liquid he had in his glass.

"So why does it seem like she doesn't know?" Max sets his beer down and runs his hands through his hair, which only annoys him more because he now knows what it feels like to have your hands in his hair. A feeling that will forever linger in his mind like everything else you do.

"Because she probably doesn't. It's Yn we're talking about. You're gonna have to be blunt." Lando downs the rest of what was in his glass and sets it down. Max was going to respond but instinctively his gaze moved over to where you stood by the bar, now accompanied by a man who was very obviously making you uncomfortable.

"What the fuck?" Was the last thing muttered by Max before he got up and bee lined to the bar.

Over at the bar a completely different, and unwanted, conversation was going on. This guy, accent indiscernible but still there, partially undone white button down, messed up dark hair and somewhat grown out 5 o'clock shadow, has made himself at home leaning against the bar right next to you.

"Now what is a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?" He keeps his hands to himself for the time being, one keeping him upright on the bar and the other perched on his hip.

"Well, I'm not alone i-" You were starting to answer, but the man began interrupting the moment the first word fell from your mouth.

"I wouldn't let you out of my sight looking like that if you were mine." He began to reach out to pull you closer by your hip, but you smacked his hand away.

"Well, I'm not yours and I never said-" You were interrupted again.

"Come on baby. I'll make tonight something you won't forget." Again, that clammy hand reached out for you and you smacked it away again, taking a step backwards and stumbling a bit into a person behind you.

"Sorry." You say to the person, who seemed to be looking at something in the direction of the perv in front of you that you couldn't quite see so just ignore it. "Listen. Ion want you to touch me, Ion want to go anywhere with you an' 'm not here alone."

"So who are you here with, 'cause I don't see him around." The guy exaggeratedly looks around the vicinity like he's looking out at sea then turns back to you mockingly.

"She's with me, asshole." You don't know when Max showed up, standing extremely close to your side, but it soon clicked that the person you bumped into was watching Max storm over your way.

"Dude, you're Max Verstappen." The guy has his mouth wide open in shock, eyes full of pure joy from seeing the driver, as if he wasn't harassing you just moments before.

"And you were fucking with my girlfriend." The words just slipped out before he could stop them, but in the meantime that was second in his mind to the situation at hand.

"Hey, if I knew she was your girl, I would've-" The guy started to take a few steps back but was yanked closer again by Max grabbing his shirt.

"You shouldn't be doing this shit to any woman." Max's hand started twitching, he wanted to punch the asshole so bad, but a small nudge with your elbow parted those dark clouds for him and made him look at you, hand still holding the guy by his shirt. You lift up the glass bottles of orange juice and cranberry juice.

"I have the juices. Let's head back. He's not worth it, anyway." You were holding eye contact with Max, but a quick flash of your eyes to his hand clued him into the fact that his hand was in a fist that he quickly releases along with the guy. He then turns to take the bottles from you, occupying his hands.

"Let's go." He lets you walk ahead of him, watching you walk past before following you, scowling at the guy as he passes. "Stop being a dick." We the last words he muttered to him before fully following you to the on-stage VIP section.

"Are you okay?" Max finally asks after setting down the bottles and placing his hands on your shoulders.

"Maxie, I'm fine." You play with the bottom hem of his shirt grinning innocently up at him.

"Okay, okay." Neither of you move for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes before your brain bounces back to the previous encounter.

"I held my own down there, didn't I?" Your smile brightens as you talk about how proud you were of yourself, and Max gave you an almost equal smile in return.

"Yes, you did. I'm proud." Max's tone was playful to match yours, but he truly was surprised at how you had handled yourself, not letting the man persuade you.

"Yay! Now, let's finish out this night with a bang!" You let go of Max's shirt and skip over to the table and take one of the stacked small plastic cups and pour a small shot of straight Belvedere vodka, smiling mischievously at Max after you do. You were going to drive him crazy.

_______

"Noooo. Don't go. Help me get ready for bed." You hold on to Max's hand trying to pull him into your hotel room after finally getting back from the club. Max had unlocked it, since he kept your key for you, and was just holding the door open waiting for you to walk in.

"You don't need me to help. You'll be fine. Remember, you're a big girl." He reiterated your claim from earlier in the night, removing his hand from the door and replacing it with his back so he could push back your locs that were all askew from your bouncy movements.

"I lied. I'm a baby that needs help getting in her pajamas." You were pouting now, swinging Max's arm back and forth. He had to take a moment to admire your face, soft, innocent. You were the definition of loveliness.

"Fine. In." You cheer and skip inside. "But I am not going to help you into your pajamas."

After entering your room he helped you with the basics of getting ready to go to bed, like helping you out of your shoes, finding a makeup wipe to at least get some of what you were wearing off and getting out an oversized T-shirt and what seemed like pajama shorts while you brushed your teeth, which was after he spent 3 minutes coaxing you to do so.

"Don't you want the shorts?" Max held them out to you while you climbed into bed with only the oversized shirt over your undergarments.

"No, it's too hot for that." You cuddle under the heavy hotel bed blanket then flutter your eyelashes at Max. "You gotta kiss me goodnight, boyfriend." You waggle your eyebrows after making Max for his words from earlier. The words he hoped and prayed you didn't pay attention to.

"I thought you didn't hear that." He walks over slowly to the head of your bed, smiling nervously.

"Oh I did. I thought it was funny that was what you went with, but it did the trick." You giggle and poke his side, the physical representation of you metaphorically bursting his balloon. You thought what he said was just an act. Of course.

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged and stood there, contemplating whether or not he was going to tell you. Right now didn't feel like the right time, and his hesitation made it worse. No, not now, but soon.

"Come on, sir. Still waiting for my kiss." You were pointing toward your forehead, right in between your eyebrows, to which Max sighs but obliges to, giving you a short peck in the forehead. You don't let him go though. Next you point to your nose and again you receive a short peck. Then you finally point to your now exaggeratedly puckered lips.

"I'm not kissing your lips." This can't be the moment he first kissed you. It was supposed to be much more grand than this. That's what you deserved, but you insisted.

“Come on, I’m not asking you to make out with me. Just a small peck.” You pucker your lips again and after a small moment of hesitation, Max bends down to kiss you, gently placing his lips on yours. It happened in slow motion and felt like it lasted eternity, or at least you both wish it lasted eternity. The small kiss made both of your heads swirl, but unfortunately for Max, you just blamed it on your intoxication. When he pulled back you were looking at him with a soft, sweet look, an equally sweet grin on your lips, enticing him for more, but instead he straightened up, still keeping his gaze down on you. “Goodnight, Maxie.”

“Goodnight, Yn.” Max smiles at you one last time then heads toward the door of your room, turning off the light and then finally exiting. He was going to tell you. He had to tell you. Soon.

babygurlyn

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babygurlyn Summer Summer Summer Time,☀️

tagged maxverstappen1, landonorris and martingarrix

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user10 So glad I'm part of this multiverse timeline 🥲

user11 I'm gonna need to know who took the first pic. It's for research.

>maxverstappen1 🖐🏻

>user11 THE ANSWER THE WORLD WANTED

maxverstappen1 Glad you were able to come along on the summer break

>babygurlyn Glad I was invited 🥰 (not glad you took a Zoom meeting in the middle of our boat day🥺)

>user13 Say sorry, Max 🫵🏽

>maxverstappen1 Sorry 😔

landonorris I call doing Yn's make-up the next video, I know I can do better

>maxverstappen1 not if your life depended on it

>user14 Coming next summer: Who can be a better mua for Yn

_____________

You strain to reach a large bowl on a high shelf in a cabinet of Max’s kitchen, the last piece needed for everything to be ready for making the chocolate chip cookies you convinced Max were necessary for you to have the best Christmas visit. As you reach, a fingertip away, you hear Max clear his throat, startling you. “Hi. I almost had it.”

Max slowly walks over your way and easily reaches up to take the bowl you were reaching for down, then turns to you with his arms crossed. “Ask for help.”

“I almost had it, jeez.” You take the bowl and place it near the ingredients that you rounded up for the cookies. The attitude you responded to him with had Max stunned. All he did was help you…

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Max follows you. Watching as you slowly grew more frustrated, going over the items on the counter over and over again and not retaining any of the information you were taking in.

“Nothing.” You grumble, still just looking at the items on the counter.

“Yn…” Max wanted to reach out and touch you so badly, pull you into him and kiss away whatever negative feeling was consuming you, but instead he places his hand on the counter and stoops his head down to get a glimpse of your face.

“You act like I can’t do anything for myself,” You snap, turning to look at him, his face scrunched in confusion. He could tell you were going to continue, so he stayed silent. “And you say you think I’m so smart and strong and independent and you like that stuff about me but you're always there doing things for me and I don’t know why! Are you lying? Just saying that stuff to not hurt my feelings cause you actually think I can’t take care of myself?”

“I know you can. That’s why I do it. You can and you’ve had to for too long.” Your face doesn’t change, still angry but slightly confused at what Max was trying to say. Now it was time for Max to be unhinged. “I don’t think you understand. It’s instinct, what I do for you. I can’t just sit back and watch you struggle. I don’t want you to ever have to struggle, even with the smallest of things.”

“Why?” That one word was Max’s last straw. Nothing could keep him from telling you how he really felt.

“I’m in love with you. I was just going to say that I like you a lot, but I would be lying and I would never lie to you. I love you, Yn.” It was almost instantaneous how quick the anger dissipated from your face.

“Oh, Maxie, I-” Max hated to have to interrupt you, but he had to finish what he was saying. Everything he had been holding in for months.

“Wait, please.” You nod and Max takes a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but I knew the moment you ran into me that I couldn’t live without you. You were it for me. So that is why I treat you the way I do. Not because I don’t think you can do anything, but because I think you are too precious to lift a finger.” You two just look at each other, waiting for the other to say something. “That’s the best way I can put it.”

“Maxie,” He raises eyebrows at you, worried about what your next words will be. You lift one finger. “First, never cut me off again.” Max cracks a smile at how serious you got, but agrees and waits for your next point. You lift up a second finger. “Second, why aren’t your lips on mine?”

If people thought he was fast on track, that couldn’t even compare to how quick Max pulled you into a breathtaking kiss, hands starting on your shoulders and slowly sliding up to the sides of your face. You just wrapped your arms around his torso, finally relaxing in the arms of the man you couldn’t stop thinking about. Max felt as though he was finally alive, kissing you. Like he was merely existing before and you were the singular breath of oxygen that he needed to truly be alive. He started to walk you backwards out of the kitchen, kissing you deeper and deeper, over and over again.

“Wait, the cookies…” You weren’t sure if you were really concerned about the cookies, because you truthfully just wanted more of Max, but still you moaned out the words.

“Fuck the cookies.” Max says against your lips before turning you around and playfully chasing you to his room.

maxverstappen1

Liked by babygurlyn and 238,579 others

maxverstappen1 It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year ☃️

tagged babygurlyn

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babygurlyn You used the caption I suggested 🥹

>maxverstappen1 It's a fairly common Christmas song

>babygurlyn Let me have this win, please 🥺

>maxverstappen1 Of course, I apologize

user15 Is it just me or does this give soft launch 🧐

>user16 No, no you're on to something

landonorris Why wasn't I invited?

>danielricciardo ?

>redbullracing ??

>maxverstappen1 Why can't I just have peace and quiet 🤦🏼‍♂️

_________

Max quickly made it a habit to have frequent check-ins with you during sex. He knew how rough he could get if he wasn't cognizant of his partner's feelings or needs and the last thing he ever wanted was for you to get hurt because he forgot himself.

"Fuck, you have no idea how much I adore your fucking pussy. Always fits me so nicely." Max was on his knees between your legs, one hand grasping your left hip, stabilizing your lower half that was already propped up by a pillow, and the other hand clamping both arms up above your head.

"Fuck, Max, this feels so good." You groan, then wince at a smack that you receive on your left ass cheek, soon smiling after because you knew it was coming.

"You did that on purpose, you little slut." You were able to manage a laugh in the midst of a moan as Max thrusted sharply into you, completely changing his rhythm to something slower but harsher. He looks away from your face for a moment, turning his attention to his dick moving in and out of you, your slick gathering more and more around him with every hitch of his hips. His attention then goes to your clit, needy and swollen and begging to be touched, and he does, using the juices coming from you to make it easier to rub languid circles on the nub. You let out whine, borderline sob, from the new sensation and Max immediately looked back up at your face, needing to see what pretty look had settled on it now. Instead of one look he was greeted with a series of them. First a partial lip bite, just the inside portion of your lip, as you looked down to watch for yourself, not knowing which sight you loved more, watching his hips thrust into your propped up pussy, or Max's long slender fingers rubbing circles on your clit. This led to look number two, which was you releasing your lips and looking up at Max, mouth agape, breathy moans and whines flowing unrestricted. This was Max's favorite look, your innocent eyes on him, flashes of lust and love presenting themselves as he fucks you so sinfully. Which is why Max abandoned his hold on your wrists to correct your last look, which was more lacking thereof since you turned your head to the side in an attempt to bury your head in your shoulder. With his newly unoccupied hand, Max grasps your face to make you look at him.

"Don't hide your face, love. You look fucking beautiful being fucked by my cock." When you finally look at him he can see a new glossiness in your eyes.

"Mmm Maxie…" Your voice had gone up an octave, another indication that something unfamiliar was happening.

"Yes, love? You okay?" Max stops moving his hips but keeps a slow soothing pace on your clit as he waits for you to respond.

"Mhm. My head feels fuzzy. Can't think." This made Max release your face and stop the movement on your clit completely.

"Oh, are you alright? Do you want me to stop?" Of course his first reaction is one of true concern. As stated before, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you.

"Nooo…" Your response was whiny and accompanied with a pitiful pout that made unspeakable thoughts run through Max's head.

"Okay, okay." He starts to caress your clit again, a sensation you seem to enjoy given the small mewls that vibrate from your throat, as he assesses the moment. His first decision was to change positions, something simpler that allowed him a bit better control of your body, which he realized became somewhat floppy, like a rag doll once your mind traveled to this unknown state. He slowly removes himself from you and momentarily stops rubbing, both losses of sensations evoking a slightly bratty whine that is absolutely adorable to him. "Give me just a moment and I'll stuff my pretty girl full again, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, face blank and waiting for your next instruction.

"Fucking hell," Max said this under his breath, eyes scanning your entire body before bring his mind back to his previous task. "Move down to the end of the bed for me, love." You do so, eagerly bouncing down to the foot of the bed with an mostly innocent grin. Max definitely saw a flash of animalistic desire in your cute face. While you did that, he got fully off the bed and stood at the foot of the bed thanking his lucky stars that the height of it perfectly aligned you with his hips.

"Maxie!" You whined and eagerly wiggled your hips, which was all the confirmation he needed for him to enter you again. He still pushed in slowly, you were already tight around him before, and now with you in what seems like a considerably sensitive mental state, he didn't want to take any chance being too rough.

"Fuck, my pretty girl feels so good around me." He stilled himself in you as he brought your legs up to wrap lazily around his hips. You, nonverbally begging for some movement, began to buck your hips while Max tried to situate himself.

"Yn, I'm gonna need you to be a good girl and stop moving for a second." His voice had a bit of sternness to it that made you stop immediately, but also caused your eyebrows to furrow in worry. "No, baby, I'm sorry. I just need a moment, okay." He waits for you to nod and the does a few more adjustments, pulling your hips closer, deciding that your right leg was the best to hold up against his hip, and moving some of your locs that got into your face during the position change before finally settling that left hand by your head and hitching his hips back so he could start his pace again. It started slow, he was still getting used to the position and angle change, but soon his previous pace was back with a vengeance. His partially bent over angle caused the top of his pelvis to graze your clit, a sensation that was amplified due to the general excessive sensitivity of the nub along with the vulnerable state of your mind. This happened with every sensation for you, it was all overwhelming, all felt too good, and instinctively you covered your face with open palms so Max couldn't see how uninhibited your facial expressions get when you were in a pure state of lust. Max wasn't having it though.

"What did I say before, love? Don't hide your face. You make such pretty faces when I fuck you." He took his hand that rested on the bed and grasped one of your hands away from your face. "Rub your clit with the other hand for me, baby." You immediately follow directions, reaching down and rubbing quick circles on the nub, chasing a climax you could feel coming. "Slower, love. Slower." You slow down the speed of your fingers but start to buck your hips in an attempt to meet Max's thrusts, which he allows. He just loves seeing his pretty little girl get off on his cock.

"I wanna cum, Maxie. Help." It had only been a moment since he told you to slow your hand and you were back at the fast pace that indicated you were fast approaching your orgasm.

"Okay, baby. I'll help you. Move your hand." You remove your hand from your clit to allow Max to replace it with his own, which also meant he had to let go of your other hand. "Play with your tits for me, love. Just don't cover that pretty little fucked out face of yours." You bring your hands to your chest, squeezing and rolling your nipple between two fingers, causing a sensation that definitely helped toward your ultimate goal of cumming. Max had to keep tabs on himself as well, feeling his own self coming close to his end with each squeeze he received from your clenching pussy.

" 'm cumming!" This exclamation was followed by a long sobbing whine and your pussy spastically clenched around Max's dick, which removed quick yet carefully from you, still continuing to stroke himself and rub your clit, gently now to help bring you down. He leaned over to give you a sloppy, unfocused kiss as he chased his own climax he was achieving with his hand. As he got closer he removed his hand from your clit and placed it next to your torso, bracing himself as he finally reached his orgasm, his forehead pressed against yours as strings of cum landed on your stomach.

Max had to take a moment to catch his breath before thinking of what to do next. After a few seconds, he looked up at your face. Your eyes were closed but he could tell you were still awake and coming down from your orgasm from the quiet whines that vibrated through your chest. He then regains enough balance to head to the bathroom and grab a warm damp towel that he first presses against your sensitive pussy, pressing kisses on your forehead as he does so, then uses it to wipe the cum off of your stomach. He was about to go and take it to the laundry room, but you gently grabbed his unoccupied hand, stopping him in his tracks. You say no words, just open up your arms, inviting him in for a cuddle and he does not hesitate to toss the used rag into the empty hamper and fall back into bed with you, first helping you back up to the head of the bed before pulling you into a bear hug. It was almost surprising to Max how quick you fell asleep once he pulled you into his arms, but it sure was the most lovely sight he has ever seen. He loved watching you sleep, being able to see the peace settle over your face. From here, he could done what he usually does in this position, recount the good the bad and the ugly of how he got to this moment with you, especially with you two making your relationship public just a couple weeks prior, but instead, for the first time ever, he just dozes off to sleep, trying to figure out what to do for breakfast.

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