#I don’t think I’ve ever talked about this before

[sinofwriting]

Raised to Love - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 6,992 Summary: Drivers are shocked to find out that pretty much rookie Max Verstappen is married. Note(s)/Warnings: This fic is DARK! Taking place between 2002-2017. There's child abduction, mentions/talks of death, mentions/talks of underage sex, mentions/talks of sex, mentions/talks of periods, dubious consent. Jos is both somehow a better and worse person in this. Sophie and Jos are still married, Victoria and all of Max’s other siblings don’t exist. Inspired by Season 4 Episode 13 of Criminal Minds.

Masterlist | Emergency Dental Fund

2002

Tears are slipping down her face and she keeps rubbing at her eyes, small whines leaving her, but they won’t stop and her mom isn’t rubbing her back, trying to get her to calm down, her dad isn’t holding her and she cries harder. She wants her mom and dad, she wants them. But they aren’t here. She’s alone and in this room that’s cold and blank and she wants them.

She hiccups, eyes hurting and her hands can’t keep rubbing, tired of doing it. Sniffling, she turns on the small bed, burying her face in the pillow, even though her mom always tells her not to do it before turning her over. The tears fall faster now. She wants her mom. She wants her dad.

And now all she can think about is them sitting in the front of the car, completely still, not responding no matter how much she shouted or kicked at the back of her dads seat. How she was pulled out of the car through the window by a firefighter and how another one was talking about how her parents were dead.

They couldn’t be dead though, because her grandparents were dead, in heaven, her dad had told her. And they had been talking to each other just a minute ago. They were going to get dinner and candy because she had been a good girl. That thought had made her curl up in the firefighter's arms, lip trembling, because she had been shouting and kicking the seat, she had been naughty.

And then when she got to the hospital, a nice nurse had given her candy despite her being bad and held her hand as another one cleaned her up. She even let her pick out a stuffed animal to have. It was okay, even though she kept asking where her parents were until another lady had come in. She had crouched down in front of and told her that her parents were dead.

She shakes her head at the memory of the lady's face and her words. She didn’t want to believe that her mom and dad were dead. But they weren’t here, they should be here. They wouldn’t ever leave her by herself, alone, and in this room.

Lifting her head slightly, she sucks in a large breath of air, the pillow soaked in her tears and warm. As she takes another breath, she doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening and shutting.

She wants to bury her face in the pillow again, but her nose hurts from it and it’s gross and wet. Turning over, sits up, her small legs going up to her chest as she presses her back against the wall. It’s then that she notices the man in the room with her.

She stiffens at the sight, eyes going wide, and the blank expression that had been on his face softens.

“Hello.” “Hi.” She greets, voice quiet as she wraps her arms around her legs. “You were crying. Is everything okay?” Her bottom lip trembles and she shakes her head. “My mom and dad,” Her voice breaks. “The lady told me they're dead.” “I’m sorry. Are you waiting for your grandparents or an aunt?” She shakes her head. He frowns and then he moves, sitting on the bed with her, though he is at the foot.

“What’s your name?” Her voice is a little louder as she says it. ‘My name is Jos.” “Hi Jos.” He smiles. “How old are you?” “Four.” “I have a son that turned five recently.” Her arms loosen around her legs. “What’s his name?” “Max. He’s at home right now, I think, trying to convince my wife to get a puppy.” Her eyes widen and her arms drop, legs falling away from her chest. “Do you have a puppy? I’ve always wanted one.” “No.” He laughs and she frowns. “But I want dogs, so does my wife and Max. We just have been waiting.” “For what?’ She asks, head cocked to the side. Jos laughs again. “Special occasion, I suppose.”

She frowns as one of the things the lady said to her as they were in the car on the way over pops into her head. “Jos. Do you think whoever I stay with will have dogs?” “I don’t know.” Her frown grows. “Do you think they’d let me get a dog?” He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.” “Oh.” Her voice is quiet. “But, I’m sure I could talk to Anna about you coming home with me. That would be a special occasion. You and Max could both get your own dog.” “Really?” He nods. “Really.” She scrambles towards him, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Jos!” “Of course. Now let's get you to your new home.”

—

“Do you know who's coming today?” Max nods, small brows furrowed together, looking so much like his father, she wants to take a picture. “My wife.” She’s proud of the way his nose doesn’t wrinkle, no disgust clinging to his words. Max thinking girls were gross wouldn’t do. “Papa never said, but is it the one I choose?” Sophie smiles, remembering how Jos had shown him a bunch of girls and the way Max had seen the one and just kept looking, had easily chosen her. “Yes. Papa was able to get the one you chose.” He smiles and she runs a hand through his hair. “Will they be here soon?” She spares a look at the clock. “Yes. Papa had to drive a bit away, but he should be here soon. Why don’t you come and help me set up her room.”

It was pretty much already set up, but Max could rearrange some of the toys and books, place them how he’d like. She expects him to nod, eager, but he looks confused.

“But mama, if she’s my wife, why isn’t sleeping in my room?” She coughs to hide a laugh. “You two are much too young for that, Max. And you don’t know each other yet. Maybe in a few years you two can share a room.” In ten years, maybe, she privately thinks. “But what if I want to share a room now?” Her eyes narrow. “Max.” His eyes drop to the floor and she sighs. “You two could have sleepovers in your room, not every night, but some nights if you’d like.” He nods, but still doesn’t look at her. “Can I go help set up her room?” “Of course.”

She watches fondly as Max clumsily copies things he’s seen her do when making his bed, adjusting the blankets, fluffing the pillows before he moves onto the small amount of toys she bought, not wanting to buy too many without knowing what the girl did and didn’t like.

He frowns at them before he’s darting out of the room, she thinks of calling after him, but she can hear him moving down the hallway and then into what she thinks is his room. Only a minute passes before he’s back, a stuffed animal in his grasp. Walking towards the bed, he carefully places the toy so it’s resting against the pillows and she nearly gasps seeing what it is.

“Max, that’s Leo.” “I know.” “Sweetheart, you don’t have to give her Leo. Leo’s yours.” He shakes his head. “We’ll share. I want her to have it right now.” Her heart melts at the answer. “Are you sure?” She double-checks. “I’m sure.” “Alright.”

2008

Crawling out of bed, she shivers as the cold air of her room hits her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tiptoes away from her bed and to her door. One of her arms leaves her to slowly twist the knob, making sure it slowly opens. As soon as it’s open enough for her body to slip through, she does. Her feet taking an all too familiar path.

Opening the next door, she does the same as she did with hers, slipping through the tiniest gap possible before shutting it behind her. The words of the maid ring in her head now that she stands in the room. How wrong this is, how inappropriate it is, how wanton she is. She doesn’t know what wanton means, but the way she said it had made her flush, bottom lip trembling as she made herself smaller.

The reminder makes her hunch, teeth finding her lip and she wants to go back to her room, she doesn’t want to be wanton. But her room is cold and the nightmare she had is lurking in the back of her mind. And sure this room is cold too, but Max is here. And she knows if she slips under the covers with him that it will be warm and he’ll even at least wrap an arm around her if not his whole body.

A shiver hits her and she darts over to the bed, slipping under the covers.

“Flower?” Max mumbles. “It’s me.” She says, feeling warm on the inside at the nickname he gave her six years ago when she met him. He makes a small noise and then his whole body is curling around hers and she can’t help but sink into it, sink into him.

She tries to fall asleep, but the word wanton just rings in her mind.

“Max.” She whispers. “Hmm.” She twists in his arms, making them face to face. “What does wanton mean?” “What?” His voice is full of sleep and his eyes are starting to open. “What does wanton mean?” His nose wrinkles, “I don't know. Why?” “Mrs. Loeh told me I was wanton.” “I,” he’s squinting as he looks at her. “I don’t know. I’ll ask my mom at breakfast, okay?” She nods before pressing closer to him. “Okay. Thank you, Max.” “Of course, Flower.”

2012

She stares in shock at the blood on the toilet paper. “Sophie!” She calls, voice nearly a shriek. She knew what this was, Sophie had told her about her body changing, getting a period, but this. This couldn’t be normal. There was so much. It was nearly bleeding through the toilet paper before she let it go.

She hears two different voices say her name, one far louder and closer than the other and she starts to see the door knob turn. “Max, no!” The doorknob stops. “What’s wrong?” “I need Sophie.” “Flower, what’s going on?” The knob started to turn again. “Please, no!” She begs and tears are starting to form in her eyes. “I’ll tell you later, I just need Sophie.” She watches as the door knob stays paused and then hears a sigh from Max before the doorknob is released.

“Max, go to the living room.” She breathes a sigh of relief at Sophie’s voice. “But mama.” “Go.” She can hear him stomping away and can imagine the frown on his face as he curses in his mind.

A small knock sounds on the door. “Can I come in, darling?” “Please.” Sophie easily slips inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her quickly. “Oh, darling. What happened?” She looks down at where her legs are pressed together. “I,” she hiccups. “I started my period.” “Oh darling.” And Sophie is right beside her, giving her an affection tap of the fingertip to her temple. “It’s alright. I know, it’s a bit scary, huh?” She nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.” “Well, it’s probably that heavy because this is your first cycle. Mine was like that as well, but it lightened up after a few months, and birth control helps as well with that.” Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of birth control. “I’m a late bloomer, aren’t I?” “A bit.” Sophie allows. “I told you about this two years ago for a reason. I didn’t think you’d be nearly fifteen.” “Am I okay?” “Of course. Everyone is a bit different. If you want though, we can talk about it with the doctor. Make sure that everything is okay.” “Please?” She asks and Sophie smiles. “I’ll schedule it right after this. Now, let me show you again everything you're gonna need.”

She watches and listens intently as Sophie shows her everything. It’s overwhelming and she wants to cry, just lay in bed, bury her head in Max’s pillow and cry. She’s thankful when Sophie slips out of the bathroom as she still sits on the toilet. Is ever more thankful when as she begins to stand, pulling up her underwear and shorts and it’s like she can feel it wanting to drip out.

The pad in her underwear is weird, but nothing compared to the new weird sensation of feeling like she’s leaking. It makes her want to sit back on the toilet and never leave. What if she didn’t change her pad in time and bled through? The thought leaves her mortified and as she leaves the bathroom after washing her hands thoroughly, she darts into her bedroom, forgetting her promise to Max.

Laying on her bed, she makes a face, trying to find a comfortable position, everything feeling weird. Maybe she’d buy a pad or a mattress protector, maybe both with how weird this felt. It would help any mess that might happen as well if she leaked.

Rolling onto her side, she smiles at Moos. The ten-year-old dog looks back at her, head resting on her front paws. “Where’s Freckles?” “The backyard.” She turns, Max stands at the entrance of her room, a look she doesn’t think she’s ever seen on his face before. “It’s later.”

Blood rushes to her face at the words, at the reminder that she promised she’d tell him what’s going on, and she has to tell him. She tells Max everything, always has. And he does the same to her. It’s why she found out when she was six that Max and her were going to get married, that he picked her. That and he was confused about her wanting to play house and how he had to play the husband because they were already husband and wife in his six-year-old mind.

She nearly smiles at the reminder that Max picked her. He’s told her a few times over the years about it. The memory is still so strong in his mind, despite it now being a decade ago. The way he had looked at a bunch of girls in an array of photos, but she immediately caught his eye, was drawn to her and the flower behind her ear.

He snaps his fingers and she can feel Moos stand up before she gets off the bed, no longer leaping in her old age. Max moves into the room, leaving the door open as Moos slips out before shutting it behind the dog.

“What happened?” He asks, approaching the bed and she cranes her neck to fully see his face. Her face feels like it’s burning. It feels embarrassing telling Max this, about this, even though they’ve talked about far weirder and gross things. Maybe, and her eyes drop staring at the hollow of his throat as she thinks, it’s because this means they can finally have sex.

The thought alone makes her swallow, breaths turning a little shallow as she imagines it. Max and her have done a lot of fooling around since his birthday last year. He knows how to speed her heart up with just a brush of his fingers. She knows how much he loves the feeling of her boobs pressed against his chest, bare or covered. Their breaths intertwined with soft pants as they move together, at least one piece of clothing still separating them.

She’s broken away from the thoughts by a hand under her chin, drawing her face up. “Flower.” “I,” she pauses, eyes darting around before settling on his face when she feels his thumb and forefinger gently apply a little pressure to her chin. “I started my period.” His brows are furrowed for a moment then his face smoothes out, mouth dropping into a ‘O’ shape, the fingers and hand under her chin disappearing.

“Are you hurting? Cramps?” “No.” She shakes her head. “It just,” and her voice is quieter than before. “It feels gross, like leaking.” His head cocks to the right. “Even with the pad thing? Is it not working?” “It is. I think it’s just how it can feel.” “I’m sorry. Can I do anything?” She glances at the empty space in the bed next to her. “Lay with me?” He smiles, a laugh shaking his body. “Of course, flower.”

2014

“I have an F1 seat.” “You have an F1 seat.” The shock is so clear on his face it makes her giggle and he immediately smiles, but that shock still lingers behind it.

“Max Verstappen,” She begins, watching as his eyebrows draw together, fingers twitching before his hands settle on her hips. “Youngest F1 driver ever, youngest to score points, youngest on the podium, youngest to win a grand prix.” She doesn’t know if the last three will be true, but she hopes they will be, thinks they will be. “You think so? I mean, it’s just a seat in Toro Russo.” “It’s not just a seat at Toro Russo.” She laughs, feeling flushed as his hands sneak beneath her top. “It’s an F1 seat, an F1 seat that you will do amazing in. I mean, Max. There’s never been an F1 driver younger than eighteen before.” She smoothes the slight furrow between his brows with her thumb before kissing that spot. “You are going to do amazing and achieve so much.” She pecks his lips. “I’m proud of you.” His cheeks are pink at her words, her flutters a little at him blushing because of her, like she hasn’t seen it thousands of times before.

Brushing her fingers over the apples of his cheeks, she frowns. “Maxy.” “Hmm?” Her fingertips trail down to his jaw. “Let me get you a skin care routine? Please.” She adds, sticking her lip out a little. “Flower.” He sighs, his left hand moving to span across the small of her back, pressing her closer. “Please? You know I don’t care about the acne, but you’ll be the youngest on the grid, still in the thick of it. This will help. It won’t be anything complicated, either.” He sighs, a small smile on his face. “Okay. But promise me nothing complicated. You won’t be there to remind me how to do it.” “Nothing complicated.” She promises, beaming. “I’ll even write up a little instruction thing for you and you can call me every time you're doing it, so we can do it together if you like.” “Yeah? Even when I’m like eight hours behind or ahead and you're sleeping.” “Even then.”

“Oh.” She presses up on her toes in excitement and Max’s smile widens seeing it. “I got us new sheets.” “New ones?” She nods. “Can I see them?” Voice going a little low and he’s thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. She never laughed when it did, but it was still embarrassing. Her teeth find purchase in her bottom lip for a second, before she nods. “You can see my new underwear too.” A giggle leaves her at the way he groans, hands pressing her body closer and against his bulge.

2016

Max stares at the ceiling as his dad talks to someone on the phone. This is what they wanted. They wanted him here in the Red Bull seat. Getting here this early was amazing, proving how good he was in an F1 car. And escaping the nightmare that was Carlos and his father was also a plus, even if both of them had taken to glaring at Max every time they saw him.

Max was pretty sure they were betting on him crashing out this race, costing Red Bull money, and then he’d get booted back down and Carlos would get called up. He shook his head at the thought. That wouldn’t happen. He was good, he’d prove he should be in this seat, should be here this early. Because he did. Max was talented no matter what the other drivers said, or the journalists or the legends who told him he had no business in their sport. His jaw clenches, holding back a scoff. Their sport.

It makes him more grateful to his dad and mom. They had told him, prepared him for not being liked. He was aggressive on track, abrasive off to people he didn’t know well. They knew it would make things harder and they had made sure he knew that too. He’s grateful for his wife as well and he wishes she was here now with him for his first F1 race in the big leagues.

He had wanted her there for his first race at Toro Russo, but that hadn’t been an option. But now? Now that he got promoted up, maybe, he looks at his dad considering asking him before shaking his head. His dad would never go for it. Not because she’d be too much of a distraction but because they didn’t need to deal with more media attention, Max was more than sure of that. He nearly shudders thinking of when he had arrived at the track yesterday and today.

“Max.” He sits up, spine straight. “Is everything okay?” His dad smiles and Max’s shoulders loosen. “Yes. I have to go and meet a friend quickly. You will stay by Christian or Helmut if you leave the garage, understood?” “Yes sir.” “Good.” He nods. “Look over the data. We don’t need you crashing out in free practice of all things.”

He dives into the data as soon as his dad leaves. A thread of curiosity is in the back of Max’s mind as he looks it over. Talking to all the mechanics and engineers, getting a feel for them, just like he knows they are getting a feel for him.

When Helmut calls him over he wonders if by friend his dad really meant a friend of Helmut's. His dad didn’t have many friends after all.

“How are you feeling?” “Good.” Max nods. “I haven’t gotten into the car yet though.” The older man nods, frowning like he nearly always is on race weekends. “You’ll do fine.” “I will do my best.” Helmut nods and Max takes the silent dismissal.

Standing towards the back of the garage, he looks at the track data displayed on one of the bigger screens. Seeing it displayed so large and clearly makes him breathe a little easier as he looks at it all. He doesn’t get to look at it long, however. The sound of his dad asking where he is breaking him away from the data and he steps out from where he had been tucked away.

His mouth opens, ready to greet his dad, but it clicks shut at the sight of her.

She smiles at him, but it’s just a bit wrong, too tight at the corners. It makes his chest ache, makes him want to snap and tell people to stop looking at her, makes him want to whisk her away so he can see his smile. “Hi Max.” The quiet sound of her voice makes him move, striding towards her. “Flower.” He breathes just a step away from her before he brings her into his arms and she melts into him as he hides her face away from everyone else. “What are you doing here?” He asks, lips pressing to the side of her head. “Jos got me a flight here. I couldn’t miss this race.” His eyes flicker to his dad who's standing behind her, looking at them, easily ignoring all the eyes of the Red Bull garage on them and the whispers that are starting. “Thank you.” He murmurs and his dad nods.

He pulls away just enough to look at her, his hands now framing her waist, hers resting on his chest. He feels breathless looking at her. Dressed in some pants, a shirt that he remembers his mom buying her last year for her birthday, the shoes that match his, she’s gorgeous and he can’t help but quickly kiss her. Their lips connect for just a second, but it’s long enough for her hand to land on his cheek, for him to feel the warm metal of her wedding ring and band.

“I missed you. Missed you so much.” He tells her as soon as they are in his driver's room, alone. She smiles at him, hands cupping his face, and he can’t help but lean into the touch, into her. Happy to see her smile, his smile. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?” “Nervous.” He admits. “But I’m ready. I can do this. I’m ready for this.” Her smile seems to grow. “You’ve got this.” “Will you watch from the garage for me?” “Will Jos be watching from there?” He nods. “Always does.” “Then yeah, I’ll watch from there.”

—

Daniel looks at the slip of a girl standing next to Jos, intrigued. She was young, as young as Max if not a bit younger, but more importantly she was hot. Nudging his new teammate, he tilts his head in her direction. “You never said you had a sister.” The eighteen-year-old just looks at him and Daniel hates the way it’s somewhat unsettling. He was twenty-six, there shouldn’t be any reason for it to unsettle him. But as Daniel looks back over, he supposes most eighteen-year-olds don’t have dickhead near abusive dads that are Jos Verstappen. “I don’t have a sister.” “Really? Hot cousin then?” “Not my cousin either.” And before Daniel can say anything else Max is walking away from him over to his trainer. “Alright then.” Daniel mutters to himself, eyes lingering on the girl before he goes to his own trainer.

—

“Daniel thinks you're hot.” Blood rushes to her cheeks and the shirt in her hands falls onto the floor. “What?” “Daniel, before we got into the car for FP1, he was asking me about you.” His face is burning with anger. “Thought you were my sister or my hot cousin.” Max scoffs. “Oh.” Her voice sounds lost and her arms wrap around herself. The anger softens on his face at the reaction and he wraps his arms around her from behind, exhaling when her arms loosen, hands resting on his arms, fingers stroking his skin. “You're mine.” He breathes, dipping his head to press his lips against her neck, barely resisting the urge to leave a mark. Her breathing comes out shaky and in her next breath, his pinky finger starts to dip below the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Max.”

—

Max is shell shocked. He’s celebrating, screaming, throwing himself into the arms of his team, but behind his helmet, he’s shocked. He had hoped for points, dreamed of a podium, but a win? A win? That had never been in his wildest dreams for this weekend.

He’s guided over to the weighing station and then the first spot, a member of the team talking to him. His hands don’t shake as he removes his helmet and gloves. They don’t shake as he removes his balaclava either. Not when he clasps a few drivers' hands. They shake as soon as he sees his flower.

She’s standing next to his dad, crying, nearly sobbing. He can tell from the pattern of her chest moving up and down. And he knows that he should be going over to get interviewed, but he ignores the team member trying to guide him, darting over to her. The people surrounding her, all wearing Red Bull shirts, cheer, patting him wherever they can reach, but he’s only focused on her. His hands enveloping her face as he kisses her.

She gasps into the kiss, her hands settling on his biceps before moving down to his wrists, fingers wrapping around them as she returns the kiss.

“You won, Max.” She’s breathless when they break apart. “You won.” He grins at her, enjoying the shine to her eyes, the width of her smile. “I won.” It’s breathless as well, and a laugh follows it. “I won.” “You won.” She laughs, quickly pressing another kiss to her lips before pushing him away. “Now go.” He nods, but leans in for one more kiss before leaving her to go to the post race interviews.

The questions are a blur to him and so are his answers. Except for the final one.

“Is there anyone you want to thank?” “The team of course. I mean really without them this wouldn’t have been possible, we hoped for a podium, for points, a seemed out of reach with how the Mercedes have been performing though. My dad and mom as well. And my girl.” As he continues he fails to see the reactions from people with those two words, my girl.

The person interviewing him’s eyes are wide, almost having stumbled back. Nearly everyone from Red Bull has their jaw on the floor. Daniel though already feeling pissed from Max winning and not him has more anger coursing through him. Because seriously? He had been eyeing her up since Friday and she was with Max apparently? Max of all people? He scowls as his eyes land on her, she is far too pretty to be with Max.

Sebastian at the weighing station let out a disbelieving laugh, adrenaline was a hell of a thing and he hoped for Verstappen’s sake that the girl he kissed didn’t take his words to heart of him calling her his girl. He’d cool down later and most likely get embarrassed by the slip. Perhaps even angry, he was the type, after all.

A few of the other drivers share looks, shaking their heads and murmuring to each other that it wasn’t going to end well. It was a hell of a thing to say after getting a win, your first win, but PR was going to be all over him after and they all winced at the thought of what statement he’d have to make and put out in the next few hours or days.

His former teammate scoffs, “bullshit.” he spits. It should have been him in that Red Bull seat if anyone was going to replace Kyvat. He and his father had banked on Max doing something stupid, crashing the car, finishing out of the points, so he could get the seat like he should, but Max just couldn’t do that. Had to have a one-off fluke of a race. And now he was claiming he had a girlfriend. Probably some sort of PR stunt to make him look better, more stable, like an adult and not a kid squeezing his way into where he shouldn’t be.

Kimi lets out a small chuckle, one that Sebastian hears but doesn’t question him on. Of course, the kid would let it slip that he had a girlfriend. He had been hoping that Max would have made it until the end of the season or even next season, but it was fine. Kimi would just have to make sure to not make another bet with Minttu, it was getting a little embarrassing how much he kept losing to her. At least Kimi considers, he didn’t let it slip that they were married.

“Well, she’s pretty, I’ll give him that.” Jenson comments, looking at the girl Max had kissed, the one that must be his girl. Fernando chuckles. “She is jail bait.” “And taken.” He eyes her. “I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t mentioned her at all. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. Did you?” The Spanish driver shrugs. “We talk about racing not personal. And yes.” He adds. “I am shocked. Mainly because of that.” He nods his head in the direction of Jos, still stern faced, though Fernando had caught a smile on his face earlier. Jenson lets out a sharp whistle. “Yeah, that is the surprising part. Wonder what Max had to do to get his dad to agree to that.” He shudders, “I don’t want to know.” “Yeah, best not to think about it.”

Max lets the podium celebrations wash over him, laughing when Kimi claps him on the shoulder as they leave, murmuring his congrats. Walking back towards the cool down room, out of sight from fans and cameras, Max takes a deep breath, heart still racing inside his chest. This was unbelievable.

He follows the FIA official as they direct them through another room, this one filled with some team personnel and such and his grin widens, feet picking up their pace as he scoops her into a hug, ignoring her squeal of protest.

“Max! You’re dripping in champagne.” He holds her tight to him, face buried in her neck. “Good. Means you can shower with me.” She doesn’t say anything to that, but he knows that he’s flustered her with his whispered words. It makes him chuckle and he puts her on her feet, keeping her close, though. “I love you.” He murmurs. “I love you too.”

He makes them keep standing there, his face still in her neck, at least a dozen eyes on them, but he needs this. Needs to hold her, needs to breathe her in, needs to feel her against him, needs her to calm him down. He wants to stay there forever, but before anyone can interrupt them, he pulls away. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets her go.

“Go wait in my driver's room, while I finish up.” She nods, flashing him a small smile, before walking over to his trainer, who nods at him before guiding her out of the building and he knows to the Red Bull garage.

—

“Max, during your post race interview, you thanked quite a few people including and to quote you, my girl. Was that the girl you kissed today?” Max is happy he’s already flushed from winning that they can’t see the way more blood rushes to his cheeks at the question. Red Bull had told him to expect at least one question that was personal during the conference because of the kiss, but he hadn’t been thinking it’d be so early. “I think we have to remember,” Max’s eyebrows furrow at Sebastian speaking and he glances at the older driver. “That adrenaline is a hell of a thing. And we can’t hold something the kid says in the rush of a moment or does really against him.” Sebastian finishes before giving Max a wink, making his brows furrow more.

Was Sebastian trying to say that he didn’t mean to thank her, didn’t mean to kiss her? He can hear a few reporters mumbling, the scratch of pens against paper.

“To answer your question,” Max starts. “Yes, the girl I kissed was the one I thanked, that I called my girl. We’ve been together a while, she’s seen my whole career in karting now single-seater. She deserved thanks.” Kimi lets out a small chuckle, leaning forward a bit to look around Max and see the puzzled expression on Sebastian's face. Served the German right for thinking that Max misspoke and acted while high on his win.

—

“No girlfriend?” Daniel asks Max as they head into debrief. “What?” “No girlfriend?” Daniel repeats himself. “I haven’t seen her yet. She not here?” Max sends him an odd look, “If you mean Y/N, no. She isn’t.” He scoffs. “Of course, I mean, Y/N. Unless you’ve got more than one girlfriend. And if that’s the case, I call dibs on Y/N.” The younger stops in his tracks, grabbing a fistful of Daniel’s shirt and yanking, making him stop as well.

“What?” Daniel laughs. “She’s hot, pretty, whatever you want to call it.” His laughter dies when he catches sight of Max’s face.

It was the face that everyone loved to talk about. The first thing that had been brought up when it was announced that Max had gotten an F1 seat. It wasn’t his age, though that was a close second. It was the look he’d get if something didn’t go his way on track, if someone smashed into him, made a risky move. It was the face that had to have been born from all the near fucking abusive shit that Jos was rumored to have done to Max.

It was narrowed eyes, glare sitting heavy and Daniel could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck at the sight of it. Nostrils flared, lips in a thin line, but somehow Daniel just knew that as soon as Max spoke his mouth would look like it was gathered into a snarl.

Seeing it and seeing it directed at him, reminds Daniel how all of them had joked in 2014 about how Max was going to be so scary, just scare them shitless. It had been jokes because despite the rumors they had heard, the stories they had been told, none of them really believed it. It wasn’t because Max couldn’t have been some hotshot on the track with an aggressive style, refusing to back down and winning because of it. No, it was the fact that people thought anyone of them would be scared of it, would be wary of him, that made them all laugh. And then they’d seen him in an F1 car and suddenly all those rumors and stories came rushing back to them, because fuck they have might merit in them when it came to Formula 1 after all.

Daniel has the urge to reach for his phone and call Jules’ godson, Charles, and ask how the fuck he managed to race against Max for so long and never get terrified of him, on or off track. But before his fingers can even twitch to reach for it, Max is speaking and god, he does look like he’s snarling.

“Daniel, if you mention how my wife,” The Australian driver's eyes widen and the word fuck starts bouncing around his head. “Looks hot one more time, I will crash into you, and I will take the fine, the penalty points, the promotion down, or the loss of my seat.” “Okay.” Daniel clears his throat, the word coming out high-pitched. “Got it. I’ll stop talking.” Max releases his shirt, fingers flexing, jaw shifting before the murderous look he had disappeared. “Good. Now let’s go, we are probably late for debrief.” Daniel nods, silently following his teammate while the words what the fuck echo in his mind.

—

“So, Max is married.” Daniel says, as he sits with a bunch of drivers, downing a shot. “Yeah, Y/N, not his fucking girlfriend.” “Daniel,” Jenson looks at the younger, eyebrow raised. “What exactly did you do?” He winces, throwing another shot back and fuck he should’ve grabbed more than two. “Called her hot in front of him, again.” The last word comes out as a whisper, but the whole table hears it and they all shake their heads. “Dude.” “I know! But like the first time I didn’t know, alright? It was Spain, before free practice, I thought she was like his little sister or cousin. This time, I shouldn’t have done it, there happy?” Kimi shakes his head. “I think the kerbs are going to your brain.” Daniel scowls at the Finnish driver, but Sebastian thankfully steps in before he can tell him where to stick it.

“What happened this time? When you called her hot? Which to be fair she is.” At Seb’s agreement, Daniel can’t help but shoot a look around, despite knowing that Max was in his hotel room and probably talking to his wife. The thought makes Daniel frown. “He, uh, he told me he’d crash into me and happily lose his seat if it came to it for crashing into me.” The other four drivers look at him, Sebastian and Fernando looking with disbelief, while Kimi looks unsurprised, same with Jenson. “Are you sure you just called her hot?” Fernando checks. He nods. “And pretty. I think it was pretty, hot, whatever you want to call it.” “I don’t even want to know the context.” Kimi murmurs. Daniel opens his mouth ready to say but gets a tap to the back of the head, making his mouth shut. “Let’s not do that tonight, alright.” It’s near instinct to fight the words, because why not tonight, but he slumps in his seat, nodding at Jenson’s words. He didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

2017

“Max, put up a hell of a fight.” Max’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t know you knew my name.” He murmurs, the microphone still catching it, however. Lewis lets out a laugh. “It’s your second win, right? Lots of pretty girls here to celebrate with tonight.” The slight smile on his face from Daniel trying to poke at his ribs vanishes at Lewis’ words and he can hear Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, the journalists coming to life a bit. “Well, I don’t think my wife would appreciate that.” It’s deadpan, or at least he tries to make it deadpan, he didn’t actually want to make his PR officer’s life hell, but he knew there was a bit too much steel in it. “Your what?” Daniel leans forward, peering around Max. “Dude, where were you last year? It was all anyone was talking about at COTA.” “You got married at COTA?” “I got married in February 2016.” “Aren’t you like twenty?” Daniel peers even more around Max. “Once again, where have you been for the last year, two years?”

“Well,” a voice interrupts. “I think we can call this press conference to an end. Let Max celebrate his win and let Lewis come to terms with things.” “Come to terms is putting it lightly.”

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am😔

[onlygarden]

[can i watch?] - park sunghoon

genre: smut, some fluff

description: when your boyfriend walks into the bathroom just before you're about to shave your intimate parts, he decides he needs to watch you.

sunghoon x female reader, unprotected sex, shower sex, dom sunghoon, sunghoon is down bad for reader and can barely control himself lmao (he's so cutie), sunghoon is a little rough 18+

a/n: i got this idea suddenly while i was shaving in the shower hehe i neeeeeded to bring it to life i hope u guys get me

you step into the humidity of the shower, the steam enveloping you and filling your pores. your body immediately warms. you allow yourself to fully relax as the hot water glides soothingly along your body. after washing up, your mind is plagued with the reminder of needing to shave, already feeling annoyed by the tedious task. didn’t i just shave not too long ago? why does body hair have to grow so fast? you think pointlessly to yourself. 

the sound of the bathroom door opening reaches your ears, and you peek around the shower curtain to see sunghoon brushing his teeth. he notices you, and immediately bites back a smile. 

“you’re gonna get water all over the rug, idiot,” he teases, the sound of his voice being muffled by his toothbrush making you giggle. 

you playfully scowl. “the curtain’s hardly open, idiot,” you respond, “and you’re gonna get toothpaste all over the floor if you keep trying to talk with a toothbrush in your mouth,” you jest. sunghoon laughs immediately, your playful smirk stretching into wide smile following his infectious laughter. 

you close the curtain, and you can hear the subtle sounds of your boyfriend rinsing his mouth. a sudden, dramatic sigh travels through the bathroom. 

“why does it take you an eternity to shower?” he pokes jokingly. “are you not done already?” the shower curtain is promptly yanked open to allow your boyfriend enough space to point to his wrist playfully, signaling for you to hurry up. 

you can’t conceal your surprise at his sudden action, but you break into a fit of laughter at his silliness, pushing his body away and shutting the curtain. “you’re scum,” you tell him, as you continue to laugh. “don’t you have any manners?” when he begins speaking you can tell by the volume of his voice that he’s still close to the curtain. “after fucking you senseless so many times i figured u were cool with me seeing u naked,” he digs, anticipating your reaction with a smile on his face.

you peek your head outside of the shower once again, greeting sunghoon with repeated smacks to his chest before returning to the flow of warm water. sunghoon stumbles back a bit, letting out an ‘ah’ through his laughter as your hand thumped against him. 

 “what else do you even need to do? haven’t you finished washing up by now?” sunghoon asks from the other side of the curtain. how cute is he, getting impatient as your time in the shower interrupts your time with him. 

“i’ll be done soon, i just need to finish shaving,” you tell him, completely oblivious to the idea that appeared unexpectedly in your boyfriend’s mind. 

“can i watch?” he asks, an ill-fitting casual tone lacing his brazen words. 

what?

you’re wildly flustered by his sudden request. 

“why would you want to? i promise it’s not anything special,” you tell him, confused as to why he’d want to watch you do such a simple thing in the first place. he was probably expecting your intimate parts to be put on an alluring display, but it’s not like you ever looked irresistibly attractive while you shaved. 

“please just let me watch, i’ve always been curious about it,” he pleads, his hopes of convincing you to comply with his request resting in the sky. “anything you do is special. and sexy.” 

gosh. you sigh. how were you supposed to resist your precious boyfriend when he asked you like that? his curiosity towards the way you complete such a mundane function seemed genuine, anyway. 

you comply, although you make him understand the conditions of his request. 

“fine. but it won’t be sexy, just so you know. i’m just gonna shave in the same unflattering position that i always do.” 

sunghoon flings the shower curtain aside with excitement, looking directly into your eyes with a faint smirk dusting his features. god, he’s so attractive, you thought. you could just melt into a puddle under his gaze. 

“do i have to remind you that you’re always sexy, even when you aren’t trying to look sexy?” 

a wide smile crawls across your face, your lips utterly betraying you, and you bite your lip to prevent it from growing any further. “shut up,” you say, turning around to grab your razor, then sitting down with your back resting against the wall of the shower. 

sunghoon leans his shoulder against the wall near the shower, crossing his arms over his chest. his intense stare almost made you uncomfortable, but you remember his undeniable desire to watch you do this, and his enthusiasm assists you in relaxing. he was your boyfriend, after all. you were always candid around him. he’s seen you do everything, whether you felt attractive or not. 

you separate your legs, completely exposing the most intimate part of yourself in such a natural setting. sunghoon inhales sharply. 

you look up at him, noticing the sudden heaviness of his expression, his features tugged down by such a tempting display. his eyelids were notably lax. is he already starting to get turned on? 

upon noticing your gaze, his stare travels from your unshaven pussy to your eyes. 

“you ready for the show?” you joke, relieving a bit of the tension. i’ll end up hurting myself if i get turned on, too. sunghoon smiles a bit. “i’m stoked,” he replies with the same friskiness. 

you slightly adjust the way you were sitting to give yourself a proper view of each spot that needed your razor’s attention. you begin gliding the razor across the sensitive skin attentively, using your fingers to spread yourself as you needed. sunghoon’s eyes were stubbornly locked onto the scene in front of him. 

the way your fingers moved across your pussy, although you weren’t trying to pleasure yourself it still drove him insane. blood began rushing to his cock and the speed of his breathing steadily increased. he throbbed in his sweatpants. you enthralled him. he almost couldn’t take it. why would he ask to be tortured like this? idly watching you, pussy exposed, as you casually glided the razor and your fingers across your delicate skin. 

god he was so turned on. he struggled to contain his predatory cravings while you carefully shaved yourself, since he didn’t want you to end up getting hurt. still, he needed you painfully. 

“babe, finish up,” sunghoon suddenly says, voice deep and breathless. you pussy throbbed a bit at the desperation in his voice, and with the way you were fully exposed before him, you know he must’ve noticed it. 

“i’m almost done, baby. just one more thing,” you say tenderly. 

his awestricken gaze remains attached to you as you suddenly stand up. he impatiently slips off his shirt, wanting to be ready to latch onto you when you’re finally finished. 

you turn your body around, sunghoon’s eyes immediately traveling the expanse of your bare shoulders, moving to the curves of your waist, and utterly basking in the plumpness of your lovely behind. your skin burned as you could feel his intense stare. 

although you were never uneasy around sunghoon, what you were about to do next made you a bit too bashful to face him. 

you spread your ass apart to shave the space in between, wanting to make sure all your intimate parts were perfectly smooth. sunghoon’s mouth falls open slightly in astonishment, and he exhales heavily, eyes fluttering in a faint manner. did you enjoy torturing him? 

hearing his reaction, you’re quite surprised that he actually found your actions sexy, but you weren’t complaining in the slightest. 

sunghoon was so aroused he felt like he could explode. the fight against his inner desire to touch you is increasing rapidly in difficulty. he quickly removes his sweatpants and boxers, his painfully solid cock springing free, already dripping in anticipation of being sheathed inside your heavenly pussy. 

you rinse your razor off underneath the stream of the shower, and you quickly rinse your body to rid yourself of any tiny loose hairs. 

“all done,” you say, turning to look at sunghoon, the unobstructed sight of his naked body sending heat across your skin. 

he quickly joins you in the shower, shutting the curtain behind him and grabbing your hips with fervor. he pulls you towards him until his cock is poking at your stomach, and he walks forward until you thud against the shower wall. your hands reach his chest, gliding across the skin until they rest upon his shoulders. 

“you looked so fucking sexy doing that,” his hands begin to tighten around your hips as if he was starving, and you were the meal he was aching to devour. “it was so hard to stop myself from pushing you against the wall and fucking you until can barely speak,” he connects his lips with yours before you can even react to his crude words, and you can immediately feel the fierce, greedy arousal that had been welling up inside him. 

he shoves his tongue into your mouth, too hungry to play the slow and gentle game with you. he felt like he could burst at the seams. 

his hand moves from your hips to your pussy, his middle finger sliding eagerly between your folds, exploring and inspecting you to check if you were ready to take him. he just couldn’t take it. he’d never felt so impatient about anything in his life. 

he breathes out as you moan quietly into his mouth, your voice breaking and your volume suddenly increasing as he shoves his middle finger inside of you with haste. you grip the space between his neck and shoulder in desperation. 

he pulls his face away from yours to watch your features contort as he pumps his middle finger slowly inside of you. 

“you really this wet just from me looking at you?” his palm makes repeated contact with your clit, and his finger persistently skates along the spongy patch inside of you.  

“should i stretch you out some more? hm?” he asks, not truly expecting an answer. his ring finger glides directly beside his other digit, and his pumping grows rapid once both fingers are fully enveloped by your warmth. 

grabbing the back of your thigh, he pushes your leg up to gain a more generous angle. he admired as your pussy laid on display, just for him. just how he wanted it to be. 

your eyes nearly flutter shut, your face twitching in bliss as his fingers move in and out of you at a swift pace. his palm made contact with your clit each time his fingers rammed inside of you, and the way he stared menacingly into your eyes as he forced you open on his fingers entirely overwhelmed you. your eyes already burned with tears from the pleasure sunghoon piled onto you. 

he smirked down at you. how cute, he thought. 

“aw baby, are you already crying for me?” his fingers don’t falter as he speaks to you condescendingly. 

“is my cock gonna be too much for you?” you shake your head urgently, sunghoon’s skilled fingers sending your mind to an unimaginable state, beyond delirious. sunghoon lets out a satisfied chuckle before he speaks again. 

“i know it’s not. you’re just gonna take it however i give it to you.” as his words fall out of his mouth menacingly, he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you dizzy and empty before lowering your leg. sunghoon already waited enough. he needed to be inside you. 

“turn around,” he says bluntly. you quickly oblige, never daring to question a request during sex with sunghoon. 

your hands rest against the slippery shower wall, and you feel sunghoon’s hands upon your hips again, pulling them back until he’s pleased with your position. twinged with desire for you, sunghoon’s hands find your ass and he spreads it apart, smacking it. how relieving was it that he could finally touch you the way he desperately wanted to as he watched you moments before. 

sunghoon kisses your back, causing you to twitch. his lips move to the side of your neck before grazing your ear, his nose sniffing your hair. he was intoxicated by everything about you. 

“need to know you’re ready for me,” he whispers, waiting for your approval before letting his impulses take control of him. 

“i’m ready, sunghoon.” you announce gently.

his length, unimaginably stiff with need, rams into you abruptly to the hilt. sunghoon takes a moment to revel in the fact that he’s finally surrounded by your pussy. your warm silky pussy was hugging him so snugly, and he’s never felt more compelled by anything in his entire lifetime. 

he starts ramming into you, punishing your insides with the ferocity and speed of his hips. his grip on your hips tightens to a painful measure, his nails digging into your skin, showing you just how hungrily he longed to bury himself into you, just how deprived he was of the pleasure you provided him with.

“hoon, too fast!” you moan out, barely finding the ability to speak due to the way he relentlessly tore through you. 

he continued the way he torturously snapped into you, not changing the way his hips moved in the slightest.

“you know i can’t, baby,” he breathes out, “just be a good girl and take it for me, like you always do.” as he continues his harsh dealing of your body, your moans begin to sound more like sobs. 

god, he was obsessed with it. 

“it’s ok baby, fuck, i know you can do it.” sunghoon was in bliss. there was no way he could stop now, especially when he knew you could handle it. sunghoon knows you well enough to recognize when you’re at your limit, and you still had more to give him.

“ah, fuck, you feel so fucking good baby.” sunghoon groans, using one hand to brace himself against the shower wall. you were absolutely falling apart underneath him. 

“so soft, so pretty for me,” he tells you, his brows furrowing as he surrenders himself entirely to your pleasure. he moves to attach his lips to your neck, and your mouth gapes open, your cries now struggling to leave your throat. 

“close, sunghoon,” you manage to tell him, and the way your name falls off his lips along with the uncontrollable moans you let out leaves him dazed. 

“oh god baby, me too,” he says, his voice strained. he returns his lips to your neck, breathy groans leaving him as he grows closer to spilling inside of you. 

his hand that rested on your hip glides along your stomach and down to your clit, rubbing rapid circles causing you to shove your hips back towards him. his lips detach from your neck as he moans deeply. you grab his forearm, pleading with him to take it easier on you, but he continues regardless. 

you cuss and stutter out sunghoon’s name as you cum, your body curling forward slightly, utterly overwhelmed by the blinding waves of pleasure coursing through you. you barely register sunghoon’s chants of “that’s it, baby,” as your eyes flutter and roll back, your body trying to handle the orgasm that sunghoon just gave you. 

the way your body shook and your pussy spasmed around his cock made sunghoon squeeze your hip brutally as he groaned, closing his eyes. he spilled inside you, his mouth falling open as deep, breathy moans fell from his lips in slow succession, the pace of his hips slowing to a complete stop. he furrowed his brows, astonished by the high that only you could give rise to.

he wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, burrowing his face into your neck as the both of you recovered. the feeling of his breath against your neck sent chills fiercely coursing through you. 

“god, you’re amazing,” he mumbles into your neck, placing his parted lips on the moist skin softly, his breath still hitting your neck with the wispiness of a feather. you smile, turning to glance back at him as his head lifts from the refuge of your skin. 

he pulls his length out of you slowly, now drenched in your essence having just been plunged inside of you. his length gradually leaves you empty as your pussy returns to it’s normal size, reminding you just how much he stretched you out. 

he turns your body around, moving his hands fondly along the curve of your waist, fingers satisfied by the smoothness of the trail they traveled. he pauses when he notices the prominent nail marks and bruises around your hips. you can recall the way he heedlessly attacked your hips while drilling into you, but you weren’t burdened by it at all. 

he frowns and shifts his eyes to meet yours. “i’m really sorry, baby, i didn’t realize,” he says regretfully. “are you hurt?” he asks with concern, hoping for a certain answer. the endless domain of his shiny brown eyes makes you melt, your adoration for him swelling within you. 

you smile a bit, shaking your head to convey your lighthearted perception of his actions. “hoon, i’m fine. it didn’t bother me one bit,” you assure him, pinching his cheek. 

his expression flips with a bright cheekiness at your admission. “yea, i could tell,” he pokes, beginning to dramatically mimic the sounds of your pleasured cries from moments ago. 

you gasp, lifting your fist to bash the side of it into his chest repeatedly. sunghoon laughs, his embarrassing mockery of you stopping as you began your onslaught. you push his giggling body off of you and pout in jest. you move past him to step towards the warm water, rinsing your sweaty body. 

you feel his hands drifting across your body again as he sweetly says, “here, let me wash you up.”

[enwifen]

PAINT ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR PRETTY GIRLS 𓂃𓏲࣪ ˖࣪

🍃 ˖࣪ ──── a pretty girl like you has no reason to be insecure about the way you look but, you still feel self conscious anyway… luckily your lovely husband is here to help.

pairing. artist!sunghoon x fem reader wc. 1.8k

𝒯oday just wasn’t your day.

You could just feel that something was off, your usual happy-go-lucky mood absent from the moment you woke up. ‘It’s okay, everyone has those days’ you say to yourself, trying to find a small spark of happiness inside you as you get ready for the day.

Sunlight spills through the windows and seeing as your husband was known to be a morning person, you weren’t surprised to see the space next to you empty. He was most likely in his art studio downstairs, inspiration often hitting him first thing in the morning.

Your eyes flicker up to your reflection while you brush your teeth. What you see in the mirror only seems to further sour your mood. To anyone else? You look the same as you did yesterday and all the days before that. To you? You don’t.

It’s little things too. Your skin texture just slightly more noticeable, dark spots more prominent… even that pesky pimple on your forehead looks more red than it did yesterday even after the cream you put on it.

Again, you try and push all the negativity to the back of your mind. Hoping to spit it all down the drain as you exit the bathroom.

As expected, you find your husband sat in front of his easel with a palette and brush in hand. He greets you with a smile though it quickly fades as he almost immediately picks up on your low mood.

“Morning sweetheart, is everything alright? You seem a little…”

A sigh leaves your lips, as much as you want to say you’re fine you know you can’t hide anything from Sunghoon.

“No…” you pout. He frowns and puts his supplies down, wiping his hands before opening his arms. You walk over to sit on his knee, allowing him to hug you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

“I just…” you bite your lip, trailing off.

“It’s okay, take your time baby.” Sunghoon says, one of his hands coming up to stroke your hair.

“I feel really ugly today… I woke up feeling off this morning and as soon as i saw myself in the mirror I—”

“Shh, shh, it’s alright… I hate when my girl is so upset, what makes you think you’re ugly, princess? You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

Sunghoon listens attentively as you list your insecurities. He shakes his head a little as you talk. He doesn’t mean to invalidate your feelings but, at the same time, he also can’t fathom how someone as ethereal and angelic looking as his wife could possibly think they’re anything but that.

“Oh Y/n… if only you could see what I—, you know what? Why don’t you take a seat over there.” He says, nodding over to the stool a few feet behind his easel.

“Hoon I really don’t feel like being painted right now—”

“Please, my love? If you really don’t want to I won’t push you but…” you gnaw on your bottom lip, on one hand you don’t want to have your insecurities drawn but at the same time you know Sunghoon would never do anything to upset you further so… you kinda wanna see what he’s getting at.

You lift yourself up and go to sit in front of him.

“Perfect…” he mutters, picking up his brush and watercolour palette. You always loved whenever Sunghoon would use watercolours.

Throughout the course of your relationship, Sunghoon had drawn you countless times. Doodling you in his notebook during classes when you still went, sketching you during one of your picnic dates… the list goes on. He was precise with each and every stroke, wanting every piece of art to be perfect.

So even though it didn’t take him long to finish, you could tell this wasn’t just some half assed piece of artwork he was drawing just to boost your self esteem.

“Love? I’m finished, why don’t you come and take a look?” And you do, rising from your seat and walking to stand beside him.

The painting is… unreal. Simply saying that it’s beautiful is an understatement. Simply saying that you were beautiful is an understatement.

Splashes of your favourite colours serve as the background, making you seem vibrant even on your dullest day. Each pencil line that joins to create you and your features is soft, eliminating the harsh critiques you had for your face. Sparkles replaced your dark spots and even that pimple you hated so much was replaced by a small flower. With everything you hated about your face, Sunghoon made his love blossom from it.

He turns to look up on you, hand on the small of your back rubbing soothingly. “Do you like it?”

“I… I love it but… hoonie this isn’t me.”

“You’re right, it’s not just you, it’s how I see you.”

Tears began to well up in your eyes at that.

“Now do you see? How it’s impossible for me to see you as anything but the pretty girl you are? I never understood back when you used to ask me why I stayed with you… why wouldn’t I? Y/n, you’re beauty itself.” He says earnestly, you can hear how Sunghoon means every word as he wipes your tears away.

“You’re too sweet.” You sniffle, Sunghoon chuckles lightly in response.

“I only speak the truth, baby.” He says, standing to pull you into a proper hug. When it came to feeling insecure, hearing ‘stop, you’re literally so pretty’ wasn’t enough sometimes. You could smile and nod but it didn’t actually make you feel better. Now, having such a loving husband by your side, your insecurities could easily be pushed to the side.

Maybe they would come back later, maybe they wouldn’t. One things for sure, with the way Sunghoon looks at you as if you were the prettiest painting in the gallery, you could care less about how you looked right now.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Thanks to Sunghoon, you didn’t feel as bad as you did this morning which meant you were still good to attend the opening of his new art gallery.

“Are you sure? You know you don’t have to, love.”

“Of course I do! You know I wanna come and be supportive of my favourite artist~”

A pink hue spreads across Sunghoon’s cheeks. Cute, you thought. Even after being such a successful painter and getting compliments on his work daily, still he would blush at any praise given to him by you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He says, laughing at you being the one to blush now. Being an artist meant Sunghoon had a keen eye for detail which always came in handy when it came to buying dresses for you.

It was probably best you didn’t ask how much your dress cost, choosing to smile and accept the gift instead. It fit your frame perfectly, the light material flowing in the wind as you walked out into the night.

In Sunghoon’s eyes you were truly something out of a dream. His dream come true.

You watch as the city lights pass you by, tuning out the sounds of your husband on the phone making some last minute arrangements, you assume.

A sense of pride fills your chest as you take in the full gallery, watching the various people admire your husband’s artwork. He deserves it, every single bit of praise as he stands by one of his paintings, smiling and humbly accepting all the compliments.

You’re perfectly content standing on your own for a little while, sipping on a flute or champagne. You smile at the memory of Sunghoon basically showing you off to everyone an hour prior.

“Ahh, with a pretty wife like that I’d wanna show her off all the time too…”

“It makes sense, he’s a handsome guy, of course his wife is beautiful too.”

“No wonder they’ve been together so long, I’d do anything to keep a gorgeous girl like that by my side.”

Those were just a few of the comments you heard. Safe to say your low self esteem was nowhere to be found.

A glance at the clock tells you the event would soon be coming to an end. You were sure everyone had gotten a chance to look at all the different pieces your husband made, all except for one…

A glass case stood in the middle of the room, inside a white sheet covering what seemed to be a statue…? Of some sort.

The chime of Sunghoon’s fork tapping his glass garners everyone’s attention. He gently tugs you to stand beside him again as he speaks.

“Hello everyone, once again I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight… it’s always been my dream to open my own gallery and even though this one isn’t the first, I’m still so grateful for all of you that have attended.”

You both smile as Sunghoon receive an enthusiastic round of applause. You both bow politely.

“Special thanks to my parents who have always told me to follow my dreams and, of course, to my beautiful wife Y/n for always being my biggest supporter and source of inspiration.” He says, you’re sure your cheeks hurt from smiling so big but you can’t help it.

“This last piece of artwork is really special to me, I love all of my art piece but this one holds a special place in my heart, just like the certain someone it was created after.” Your brows furrow a little in disbelief but you keep smiling, body vibrating with excited nerves as you start to catch on. “I’ve only just started to get into sculpting so it may not be the best but, I’m proud of it regardless… now without further ado, allow me to reveal my newest masterpiece.”

Sunghoon smiles, leaving your side to open the glass case. Carefully tugging off the white sheet.

You turn around to look and your jaw drops, covering your mouth you feel tears begin to pool in your eyes.

The sculpture is you. And not just you, but the painting Sunghoon had made of you earlier that day. He must’ve drawn it from memory but it still looked beautiful regardless, it was Sunghoon behind the easel after all.

The lights in the gallery darken to allow a spotlight to shine on the sculpture though it also highlights you. Every single detail is highlighted and all the audience can do is stare and awe.

Sunghoon walks back around to you, smiling warmly.

“How do you like it, baby?”

“I… hoonie are you kidding me? I love it!” You exclaim, ignoring the tears that fall. You don’t realise how they sparkle under the spotlight, as if your tears were made out of crystals. Softly, Sunghoon wipes them away. Another round of applause ensues, though you’re still in your small little bubble with him.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The gallery is empty now, you and Sunghoon being the only ones left. Sat on one of the benches, your head resting on his shoulder, still admiring the sculpture he made of you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so loved before.

“It’s beautiful…”

“You’re beautiful.”

You giggle softly. “Stop it.”

“Never.” He grins.

[kisses4reid]

warnings: mentions of being unlovable, angst, happy ending, love.

Spencer’s hands wrung with each other, the cool breeze in the car park pushing his hair from his forehead, “I love you.”

You blinked, heart sinking into the pit of your stomach, breath catching. You stood in horror, gulping and immediately lowering your gaze to anything but Spencer.

To yourself, you were an outcast in every sense of the word. No one likes you, and no one would pick you out of a room full of people. Why would they, anyways? You’re you, and you can never change that. Who would want to be stuck with you? Anyone who’s ever admitted to liking or loving you had told you it was a mistake, that you wasted their time, they should’ve spent their time on something worthwhile.

You didn’t want to put Spencer through that.

“And it’s completely fine if you don’t feel the same it’s just- I know we say we won’t profile each other but I kind of think that you might- maybe- like me back and-“

“Stop, Spencer.” You looked down at your heels, shifting your weight nervously.

Spencer obliged and gulped, eyebrows furrowing. His nerves were visually increasing, as were yours. The wind was loud, so was your heart.

“Spencer,” you sighed. How could you do this to him? Deny his affection, when it’s the one thing you crave, the one thing you’ve been thinking about for the past two years. “Spencer. You can’t do that.”

His face crinkled in confusion and then relief, “I know, it’s a bad place to confess things- We could go down to the park in front of your house or, that café you like?” He had a smile on his face, a cute one, one you didn’t want to leave.

“You can’t love me Spencer.” You replied, holding his gaze, heart breaking when his face dropped.

“Oh.”

Your eyes searched each other’s, and you felt like you would throw up at any second.

You turned to go, assuming that would be it. The end of your friendship, the end of your feelings and his. Until his voice croaked,

“Why not?”

You stopped, your car was only a few short steps away, tears brimming your eyes. Turning, you took a breath and decided avoiding his eyes was the best way you were going to get through this without crying. You’ve cried in front of him before, you’ve lied as well, and you’ve told him secrets nobody else knows. Why hold it back now? Why hide yourself from someone who loves you?

He won’t for long though. That’s how it always goes.

“You just can’t. It’s not… right-“

“All we have to do is talk to HR-“

“You don’t love me Spencer. You don’t, you won’t. Not now, not in the future. It doesn’t happen with me, okay? You just need some sleep and, I don’t know,” you ran your shaking fingers through your hair, tears welling onto mascara covered lashes before Spencer moved and grabbed your hand tight.

“You don’t know that! I do love you, Y/n. More than anything else,”

“No you don’t-“

“You don’t know how I feel-“

“I know how you will feel.”

Spencer flinched, hand dropping yours, the sudden absence of his touch freezing your wrists. He took a breath and trailed your face with his eyes, squinting them in disbelief.

“Y/n. I’ve loved you for years, nothing has changed- if anything my love for you has increased which statistically goes against everything that research suggests about relationships but I truly do believe it.”

A shiver ran down your spine, a tear rolled down your cheek. He looked sorrowful and hurt. You had caused it.

“I’m sorry Spencer.”

His shoulders slumped, “D-don’t say sorry. I respect your decision, um.”

“I love you too.”

The words escaped you before you could even think them, your eyes mirroring Spencer’s wide ones. And you continued with no second thought, “I have loved you, but, I don’t want to lose you.”

“How could you lose me?”

“Everyone I love leaves. It’s because of me. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You stared at each other for seconds, moments, what felt like minutes. You hadn’t even realised you’d been sobbing until a tear drop landed on your shoes.

“Y/n you aren’t unloveable. I’m living proof. Let me be proof, please. I will love you and stay with you until I can’t tie my own shoes and my dentures fall into my oatmeal.” He looked tired, disappointed. He had worked up all of this courage, done all of the confirmation you might have liked him back- and you did! But why, why, weren’t you letting it happen? “I can love you, I won’t get hurt, you won’t hurt me. The only thing I’ve seen you hurt it your own ankle trying to chase the ice cream truck outside Rossi’s house. Please, Y/n.” You stood a metre apart, but he closed it, “Please,” and took your hands.

Your heart pounded and you looked into his eyes. There was something there you’d never seen before. Eagerness, longing, yearning.

“Okay.” You whispered.

“What?”

“Okay.”

“Really?” Spencer broke out into a smile, causing you to slowly grin.

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, thank you.”

taglist (open!!): @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es

[rainybubbles]

What 141 would do if you're experiencing self-doubt ?

Ghost, Price, Soap, Gaz

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

SIMON : 

-"I am not enough; I will never be, and you know it. You know it because, in a crowd, your gaze wanders elsewhere. Your fingers barely brush against me, and you only utter kind words without ever mentioning my beauty. I will never be like the others; I can never fill your heart. I am just a silhouette in your life, while I constantly dream of being the leading role in our film. But it’s just a film, an illusion, and I can’t be content with that."

-Out of breath, they stood before him, tears in their eyes. Their exhausted eyes let every tear fall, their breathing was labored.

-He stood motionless, rigid, unable to move, to utter a word.

-This silence was like a knife, silently cutting the bond between them, answering the unspoken with more silence.

-"I see," they murmured as they turned to leave.

-But their momentum was interrupted by his hand firmly gripping their wrist. He stood there.

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself to the others?" he murmured.

-"Don’t hit where it hurts, I—"

-"Do you honestly think you can compare yourself when your smile makes me forget the blood I shed? The souls screaming in my ears. When each of your breaths is a wave of desire I struggle to restrain, while for ten years, I struggled to feel even lust? When your voice, your ambitions are the only things I think about. You haunt me. I’ve tried day and night to flee from you, to distance myself, to keep you as an acquaintance, but no matter my efforts, I found myself at your feet begging for a crumb of your smile. Do you honestly think I see you like the others?"

-Stunned, they didn’t know how to respond.

-"Simon."

"I can’t, I didn’t want to. Not yet. I can’t afford to have people to lose, but you’re here, and I find myself unable to let another take your heart."

"Then take it."

Hesitant, the soldier could see his mother, Beth, his brother, his nephew. Having someone meant being able to lose them. Having only his life meant a gentle, painless death.

-But between putting them in danger or losing them, Simon’s heart had made its choice.

-He wouldn’t risk finding them one day dead in his living room, killed by an enemy. He couldn’t. Yet the idea of having them in their living room, their house, seemed so sweet.

"It’s not that simple."

"Simon, please. Be clear, you can’t—"

His hands were on their face, wiping away each tear he had caused.

"Look at us, Simon," they murmured.

Their breaths close, the heat rising, their gazes shifted from one to the other, settling on their lips. And everything happened quickly. A moment, a second changing everything. A kiss.

"You are enough," he murmured after the first kiss.

But it wasn’t enough; starving, his heart burning, Simon kissed them again and again.

Feeling their body under his hands, their much-desired lips on his. Their breath, their scent, their sounds, their hair, everything was them, and he could only get intoxicated again and again.

They were an addiction.

"I can’t get enough of you."

"Neither can I. Don’t leave me again, Simon."

"I wouldn’t dream of it."

They were enough, more than that, they were too good for him. But Simon was a selfish man, and if they allowed him, he would stay in their affections as long as they let him.

PRICE : 

(Tall reader implied in this one.)

"Am I... pathetic, John? Not enough?"

On a summer evening at the base, which was deserted due to the nice weather and the open bar, two colleagues smoked outside.

-The conversation had shifted from light banter to work, and now, as dawn approached, alcohol was loosening their tongues, steering them towards deeper topics.

"Pathetic?" John repeated.

"Yes."

They stubbed out their cigarette abruptly.

"Sorry, it sounds childish. I'm complaining about my life when we were talking about something else. I should go to bed, I—"

They were interrupted by his gaze.

"No, I'm listening."

They sat back down, almost timidly.

"Have you been with people, John?"

"I've had my share of lovers, yes."

"Everyone has, at our age, right?"

"I guess."

"Not me."

John observed their in silence, sensing their hesitation.

"My parents say it's pathetic, being only good at writing reports, not even able to seduce soldiers in a barracks. That my ugliness, my height, are horrible traits they can hardly stand to see at each meeting. And I know they're wrong, but when I hear stories of kisses, love letters, children, marriages... I can't help but wonder: what's wrong with me? Why... why have I never felt that desire, why has no one ever had it for me? Am I... pathetic?"

John removed his cigar from his lips, his eyebrows furrowed. He stood up without a word.

They guessed he was bored by their words, their problems, and regretted having said too much.

But John knelt in front of them.

"You'd have to be very cruel to think a person like you is pathetic. If you are, then I'm just a pathetic man who desires a pathetic person."

"John..."

"Not feeling desire, not having loved, kissed, or slept with someone at our age shouldn't be a shame. Love isn't a race, and if you start in your thirties, forties, or fifties, so be it. You should never feel any pressure or degradation about it. Because a man, a lover, a good one at least, will never define you. You are a wonderful person who may choose to have someone in their life, or not. It’s optional."

"It’s hard."

"I know."

On his knees, he reached out to cover their hand with his.

"You are not pathetic. Your laughter at Simon's awful jokes, that little tic after writing a report when you click your tongue, your height towering over even Johnny... I live for that. Every morning on this base, I wish to give you a report I spent too many hours falsifying just so we can correct the errors together, so I can sit next to you and feel your leg brush against mine, your scent filling my clothes, or leave my silly hat on your head in winter. I want you to see me, as I see you. Because if you did, you'd never dare, never even think to use the word 'pathetic' to describe yourself."

"John..."

"I'm not asking for anything. I know your desire now, and I guess I don't meet your expectations, but please, don't let this define you."

Slowly, he stood up, his hand leaving theirs.

"Why?" they asked, interrupting his walk.

"Why what?"

"Why tell me this when you... you know I could never have that physical desire for you?"

"Because my desire isn't just sexual, I want all of you. A life without sex doesn't bother me, not if I can see your smile every morning, not if I can fix a stupid sink we bought together, not if I can admire those lines on your face every day."

"You're an idiot."

"So it seems."

Wiping their tears, they blew their nose. With a determined step, they joined him.

"Where are we going?"

"Where?" he asked

"Well, a date should be somewhere nice, right?"

A smile appeared on his face.

"I know a place," he murmured.

"Let's go."

Hand in hand, the dawn rose on a new relationship at the base.

SOAP : 

— Wait, talk to me, we can fix this, he said, running after you into the bathroom.

— It’s not a problem, Johnny. It’s not a disagreement, you said, sitting on the floor.

— What is it then?

— ME! I’m... I’m completely useless. Seriously, all through this party, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t even drink. I was paralyzed by a panic attack, standing there like a statue while my friends wanted to celebrate. I ruined their moment, I... I’m not worth it. Every time they want to hang out, they look for uncrowded places because of me. They delay our meetings to make sure I don’t faint on public transport. They try to guess if today’s a good day for me before even suggesting anything. I’m a burden to them. And I hate myself for that. I hate that I can’t talk to people without overthinking, I hate that I faint in crowds, I can’t go outside when I want to, I can’t call people, I can’t even tell stories. Because I don’t have any; I’m stuck in a boring life with anxiety slowly eating me away.

— Is that what you think? he whispered. That you’re not worth it?

— Yes, you sobbed softly. Because it’s the truth.

— Do you think your friends see you as a burden? That they hang out with you because they have to?

— Yes.

— No. They hang out with you, they take your anxiety into account, they plan around your feelings because they want to. They wish they could see you every day because you’re a wonderful person, you’re a delight to be around. They know they can’t always see you, so they take care of you. I... take care of you. I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished to see you every day, to go out with you every day. But I love you too much to impose my desires on your anxiety. We love you, we do all this because we care about you. Tonight was a mistake.

— A mistake?

— We were supposed to be five, but Thomas’s friend invited more people, and it turned into a big party. We couldn’t warn you in time.

— So...

— We wanted you there, we wanted to celebrate with you, with our friends. Not with random drunk people.

— You love talking to drunk people.

— I love talking to people, period.

— I feel stupid.

— Then I’ll be stupid with you, scoot over.

— John, there’s no room to sit, we’ll be stuck in the bathtub.

— So?

He settled in. The two of you tangled up in an empty bathtub, a laugh escaped your lips.

— You’re ridiculous.

— I’m whatever you want me to be.

— Even bald?

— I admit, I won’t touch my hair.

— ...Do you... do you really want to see me more often?

— Yes. But I know how you... how you need your space after socializing.

— You sound like a personal development book.

— Maybe it’s from "Introvert’s Guide", I admit.

A sigh escaped, a smile forming.

— Thank you, John.

— No problem.

— You... you could come to my place, maybe.

— You-

— So we can see each other... more. More than just outside.

— Okay.

Slipping a key into his pocket, John could only take your hand and gently caress it.

— You deserve it, this happiness , believe me.

— I’ll try, you whispered.

KYLE : 

The silence lingered at the end of the line.

"You're supposed to answer after a “how are yo”, you know?" Kyle said.

Usually they would have said “yes I’m fine.”

But that wasn't the case. It never had been. But they had always managed to lie, to downplay their problems. Yet their trembling lips betrayed them, letting slip the truth.

"That's not the case."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, I was catching up."

Idiot. Kyle Garrick was nothing if not a stubborn and obstinate man.

"You think I'm going to buy that?"

"Kyle, I'm not sure that..."

"You just admitted what I've been waiting for months to hear. I'm not letting go."

"You were waiting?"

"Do you really think I believed you? You... you talked about your neighbor for hours to avoid my questions, please, just answer me."

"Have you ever wondered why I always seemed to mess everything up?"

"You..."

"I wonder every day. My parents barely talk to me, I did an art degree to avoid finishing my bachelor's and being in debt, I started a history degree only to end up cleaning after my graduation, unable to find a teaching position. I lost my apartment, my dog, my first love, and my second. And my college friends. And today, my job, and they all say the same thing, it's my fault. So Kyle, tell me, did I ruin your life too?"

The sound of the line crackled.

"No."

"You can't lie, I..."

"Your parents are disappointed that their prodigy of a child didn't do what THEY wanted for you. Your art school was filled with artists copying from the internet. Teaching positions come and go every year. You're just young, and as for your friends, they were nothing but hypocrites, taking advantage of your notes and then leaving. Your exes had their flaws and projected them onto you. They're all idiots if they think you're the bane of their existence, because now, they must realize how much you helped them. You mattered. You matter."

"Kyle."

"I wouldn't know who to call, who to tell the stupid things I see here to forget if you weren't there. I know you ask me to describe the scenery in each of my calls so I don't remember my missions, that you don't talk about my work to give me a bubble. And it matters to me, you matter to me enormously."

"I'm just trying to... help you."

"Then let me help you in return. Why don't you... why don't you come to my apartment?"

"Kyle, what?"

"You don't have a job anymore, do you? Rent is expensive and you have nothing holding you back. Come to England. My parents know a university, you could work there as a teaching assistant or find something else."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve better. I don't want to play the savior, I... it's selfish, but knowing that when I come back, I'll find you in my apartment is a selfish wish. I can't just settle for calls anymore, I want to hear your voice every morning."

"As friends?"

"No."

"I see."

"But if that's how you see us, then I'll respect your choice and my offer will always stand."

"I can't ask you to let me move in with you if I know that."

"I'll do anything for you."

"You're stubborn."

"Yes."

"I... I'll think about it."

"You haven't given me an answer."

"Do I really need to?"

"No. I... damn it, I wish I could kiss you."

"You'll have to wait until you come back."

"I can't wait."

If you want more : masterlist.

[0310s]

wiping something off their lips (jaehyun ver.) 𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

members: boynextdoor legal line x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, friends to lovers, they have a crush on u waaah >_<!!!

wc: 1.6k

a/n: this was supposed to be 600 words... something insane happened in my brain and i churned out 1.6k in an hour. let me know if you liked this <3

ᯓ★ 

as the #1 messiest eater in boynextdoor, this scenario is most likely to happen to him… have you seen the multiple videos of riwoo wiping food off his lips… also aside from being #1 messiest eater he is also #1 babiest baby boy of boynextdoor.

when you’re both walking along the streets of seoul and spot a vendor selling cream-filled pastries, jaehyun rushes forward to purchase two—one for him, and one for you. he’s so excited that he gobbles down his pastry and makes an entire mess. there’s cream all over his lips, and he looks like one of those happy babies with food smeared all over their mouth (although not to that extent… but almost lmfao)!!! he doesn’t notice the mess he’s made until you grip his chin and tell him to “stay still.” you pull out a wet wipe from your bag and carefully dab at his lips. 

with your eyes still trained on his mouth, jaehyun takes this moment to stare at you. he’s always known you were pretty, but something about you being this near him is making him feel utterly lightheaded. your perfume is sweet and comforting, and your fingers on his lips feel so gentle. whether it be your scent or your voice or your presence, he likes everything about you… wait, like?

“all done! you gotta be more careful next time,” you lament, disposing the wipe in a nearby trashcan. “anyway, those creampuffs were the best thing i’ve ever tasted since the tiramisu we ate last month…” at his lack of response, you realize jaehyun’s not walking beside you, and you swivel around to see him standing stock still in the middle of the street. his expression looks like he’s come to some sort of realization. “jaehyun?” you bound over to him and wave your hand in front of his face, and he snaps out of his little daze.

“yeah? no, yeah, sorry, i just… let’s go,” jaehyun starts walking, and you trail after him, confused. what was that about?

“so i actually like like them,” jaehyun announces back at the dorm. “i thought it was normal that i found them cute and everything, because anyone with eyes can see that! i didn’t think that it was deeper than that. but i realized that it wasn’t just about their looks… i just. really enjoy their presence and how i can be myself in front of them, like, really myself you know???” taesan and leehan share a look before shaking their heads in unison. “hey!” jaehyun protests. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“we know,” taesan bemoans. “you talk about them your every waking moment, and whenever you spend time with us, you always talk about how you wish they were here.”

“taesan’s right,” leehan adds. “you look at them like they hung the stars. i think it’s obvious to everyone except you, honestly. and them too, because they think you flirt like that with everyone.”

jaehyun groans in response, messing up his hair in frustration. “so… what am i gonna do? it’s not like they like me back. this is driving me crazy... how am i supposed to act around them now that i know i like them?!” his friends share another look. “don’t do that!”

“calm down, jaehyun.” leehan comfortingly pats his friend on the shoulder. “why don’t you treat them as a friend first while you’re unsure about what to do next? after all, you like them as a friend too. i’m sure your dynamic wouldn’t change that quickly.” jaehyun nods in agreement, swearing to do exactly that.

taesan laughs at this. “well, i think jaehyun’s going to fuck this up by being very awkward and obvious.” 

leehan shoots taesan a glare. “don’t mind him, jaehyun. we’re both on your side.” taesan huffs but doesn’t disagree. okay, jaehyun. just be normal. how difficult can it be? 

it proves to be extremely difficult, actually. the next time you hang out together, jaehyun thinks everything is going well, and both of you are talking and laughing like normal. half an hour later, you and jaehyun are snacking on bunggeopang on the side of the road. the streets are empty today save for a few high school students milling about. jaehyun, unaware of how messy an eater he is, is too enthusiastic about his pastry. he’s gesticulating wildly, reenacting a funny story that happened to him days ago, and doesn’t notice until you firmly grip his chin between your fingers. “jaehyun, stop moving for a second.” oh fuck. be normal, be normal, be normal…

expecting to feel cool cloth on his face, jaehyun all but freezes when you use your thumb instead to wipe off the pastry filling on the corner of his mouth. oh god. oh fuck. oh fuck fuck fucking god fuckity fuck fuck. “sorry, don’t have wipes with me this time,” your tone is regretful. jaehyun feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest. he attempts to wriggle out of your hold, but you grip him even harder. “stay, jaehyun.” oh god, that made me feel some sort of way. fuck, wait! be normal, be normal, don’t say anything… “i’m not done. there’s still some on your…” 

to make it worse (or better, jaehyun can’t tell at this point), you trail your thumb over his bottom lip several times, nodding when you’re sure there are no more smears. “there! all clean,” you declare, finally letting go of jaehyun. he feels his knees go weak as you suck your thumb into your mouth, releasing it with a pop. you’re wearing a very pretty lip gloss. oh fuck. “ooh, custard filling, my favorite! i should have gotten that flavor… maybe next time,” you sigh forlornly. “anyway, jaehyun, should we get going?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhh,” is the only thing jaehyun can respond with. his brain is malfunctioning and he can’t do words anymore. “uhhhhhhhhhhh.” 

you frown in concern and put a hand on his shoulder. “jaehyun? is something wrong-”

jaehyun can’t do this anymore. “ilikeyousomuchihaveacrushonyou,” he blurts out all in one breath, hiding his face in his hands out of mortification. “i’m sorry. i thought i could pretend and act like things were normal between us, but ever since you wiped my mouth last week and you were so close to me, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. and how i feel so nervous around you now that my heart is just going insane. i just had to be honest with you, i don’t think i can keep it a secret. i tried but i failed and. i. i…” 

at your lack of response, jaehyun peeks at you through his fingers. you’re stone-still, and he can’t tell what you’re thinking. oh fuck. he suddenly recalls his promise with leehan and taesan to treat you as a friend first and realizes how badly he’s fucked up. a fresh wave of fear overcomes him, not just at the thought of you rejecting him, but at the notion of losing your friendship. oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck… 

jaehyun’s trying his best not to cry, but he feels so miserable. “i’m sorry, you can ignore that, i don’t want to lose our friendship, i promise that i won’t let my feelings affect our friendship, please, i still want us to be friends.” maybe if he rambles long enough, he thinks, he can suppress the impulse to wail like a little child. 

“wait, jaehyun, i… you like like me?” he nods. “like, more than friends?” he nods again. “like… romantically?”

“yeah,” jaehyun lets out an exhale. “‘m sorry i confessed all of a sudden. i just. couldn’t keep it in anymore. i just have all these feelings for you that i didn’t know where to put them. but i swear,” he pleads, “we don’t have to talk about this. we can just move on from this and i won’t bother you with my feelings ever again. i, i really care for you and still want to be your friend…” 

“what if…” you whisper, “i don’t want to?” 

jaehyun’s face falls, and it takes everything in him not to sob. he’s never even considered the possibility you might not want to be friends anymore. “oh. i. i mean that’s totally understandable. i respect that, yeah. i must have made you uncomfortable. i’m sorry. i won’t bother you anymore.” don’t cry in front of them, jaehyun, don’t cry…

but before jaehyun can turn to leave, you grip his hand tightly so he can’t escape.“no, jaehyun. i mean… what if i didn’t want to move on? what if… i want us to be more than friends too?” 

jaehyun can’t believe what he’s hearing. “wait. are you serious?” a feeling akin to hope blooms inside him. 

you nod, your expression growing shyer by the minute. “you’re always so kind and attentive to me. you listen to me whether i’m feeling good or shitty, and you never mock me. and… you’re also really cute,” you giggle. “i honestly thought you saw me as a friend because you flirt with literally everyone… until you confessed, now. i really like you too, jaehyun, if you’ll have me…?” you still haven’t let go of his hand, and you’re idly playing with his fingers while waiting for his response. 

“OH MY GOD YES! i mean, yes! me too! please! i would. like. yes. i want. to be your boyfriend, oh my god, sorry, i keep stumbling over my words like an idiot,” jaehyun babbles. he feels his hand grow sweaty with nerves and tries to twist out of your grasp. instead, you beam, pull him in with your intertwined hands, and peck his cheek. oh my god, they just kissed me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“well… at least you can be my idiot. now let’s go!” you don’t let go of his hand, and jaehyun has a dopey, lovestruck grin on his face all the way back.

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 4

Word Count- 3.1k

Warnings- Swearing, spoilers obi.

My fingers graze the texture of my history textbook. My eyes read through each line. Before I know it I’m at the end of the page, and yet I can’t recall a single sentence I had just “read.” I let out a loud sigh and closed the book, placing it back in place on my desk. Ever since the day I got kidnapped this has been a problem. Without being on edge, I can’t focus on school work, the people around me, or myself. Every time I walk by someone I instantly tense up to the idea of them being something supernatural. I know that Elena has told me everyone in town that she knows is a part of that world but she can’t possibly know when a complete stranger is. 

Worrying about who is supernatural isn’t the only thing that’s been plaguing my thoughts, either. All night I was tossing and turning with the thought of Elijah. Damon and Elena knew as much as I did about how he was still alive. Elena had told me that a vampire could be killed with a wooden stake, and yet it had only affected Elijah temporarily. 

“He’s going to destroy you.”

Kathrine’s words ring in my ears. Stefan had told me not to believe a word she says, but given that these people don’t seem to know what the hell is going on either, I’ve let her words get to me. The look of fear in her eyes at the thought strikes me to my core every time I think back to it. If a vampire that is magically locked up is afraid of this Elijah guy, then I sure as hell will be too. 

I jump slightly in shock as I hear knocking on my door, I untense when I hear my mother’s voice on the other side though. 

“Y/N, you have a friend here to see you,” I stand up and open my door to talk to her but freeze when I see Damon standing behind her. His lips curve up into a smirk and moves his fingers up and down in a wave as he stares at me.

“Your friend Damon here is so kind to drop in to check on you. I had no idea you were feeling under the weather.” 

I glance at my mother and fight the urge to roll my eyes. Although we look so much alike I couldn’t be more different from her. Where I actually take the time to listen to people and try to understand people my mother seems to only care about what benefits her. I’m not surprised at all that she hasn’t noticed my change in attitude these past few days since she never seemed to care before. 

She clears her throat at the silence she gets from me, “Well, I’ll let you talk. I have to be going anyways,” She turns to Damon who fakes a smile at her, “I have a work trip this weekend.”

“Work on the weekends, well that’s no fun,” Damon responds with a flirtatious tone that makes me want to gag. My mother on the other hand turns red.

“No worries, I always find a way to liven things up,” She leans closer to him, “Even though it would be more fun with some company.”

“Mom, you should be going now,” I interrupt before I throw up on both of them. 

My mother nods and says her goodbyes to both of us, mostly Damon, and walks back down the hallway. I let out a sigh of relief but then tense up when I realized that Damon had just entered my room.

“What are you doing here,” I watch as he looks around my small room. After my mother and father’s divorce, my mother wasn’t left with very much money so we had to make do with what we could scrounge up. After moving and divorce costs we left with a tiny 3 bedroom 1 bath single story home here in Mystic Falls. It looks like a shoe box compared to the other houses in this town, but I don’t really care since I plan to move away from here the second I graduate. 

“I need a favor,” Damon says to me as he picks up the stuffed frog I have on my bed and tosses it around in his hands. 

“What kind of favor?”

Damon places the frog back on my bed, “Well, after your and Elena’s little suicide excursion yesterday we’ve magically locked her in her house, and I need you Pukerella to go babysit.” 

I send him a glare at the nickname, “If Elena’s locked in her house why do you need me to babysit her?”

Damon rolls his shoulders and walks towards the door, “I don’t need you to do anything. I want you to go to Elena’s and let me know if she plans on calling the big bad vampire to come sacrifice her.” 

“So you want me to be your spy?”

Damon thinks at the question for a moment before shrugging his shoulders, “Ya, pretty much.”

I shake my head, “I’m not going to spy on my only friend.”

Damon lets out an annoyed groan and pinches the bridge of his nose as if this is the most annoying conversation he’s had, “Fine then you won’t be my spy, you’ll be the babysitter I hired for Elena. There happy? Now come on I got other stuff to do today other than arguing with you, people to go kill and stuff like that you know?”

Damon grabs me by my upper arm and practically drags me out of my room and down the hallway toward the front door. He ignores my yells of anger as he opens the door to his car and pretty much pushes me in. I huff as he speeds over to his side and starts the car.

“Oh and by the way,” I slowly turn my head to glare at him as he starts talking, “You might want to get some vervain for yourself and your family. It was too easy getting your mother to invite me into your quaint home.” 

—-

“We could watch Pretty Woman?” Elena asks Jeremy and I as we sit on the couch. Jeremy lets out a loud groan at the question making Elena laugh.

“Guess not,” She flips through some more channels before she lets out a sound of excitement, “Oh! Grease!” Elena goes to play the movie but Jeremy snatches the remote from her hand.

“No way, not happening. I have seen that movie far too many times because of you and Mom. I’m going to decide.”

It takes Jeremy another 10 minutes to scroll through the channels deciding on a movie. Every time he picks one Elena disagrees and they start arguing over it until they start searching again. This has pretty much been what we’ve been doing for the whole hour in which I’ve been at the Gilbert residence. After Damon kicked me out of his car and drove off I’ve just been listening to the Gilbert siblings argue. It’s not that bad though. Jenna, Jeremy and Elena’s aunt, supplied us with snacks a bunch of snacks before she had to leave for something she had to go do.

“Aha!”

I turn to the TV to see what Jeremy picked and cringe as I see the beginning credits for “The Human Centipede.”

Elena’s sound of disgust mirrors mine as she stands up, “This is no use. Y/N do you just want to go up to my room?” 

I glance at the TV again momentarily and nod my head, “Defiantly.”

—

“You’ve got to read this book I just got,” Elena jumps up from her spot on the floor next to me and goes to her bookshelf, “The romance in it is so steamy and the main male character in it is so hot!” She stops and blushes at what she just said.

“Don’t tell Stefan,” She points at me.

I laugh as I bring my fingers to my lips and pretend to lock them, “You’re secret is safe with me.”

Elena and I had been making small talk until I had mentioned that I liked reading, which caught her attention. She had told me she does too and we began talking about our favorite books and genres. To which we found out we’re both fans of romance, jumpstarting an hour-long discussion. 

Elena sits back down next to me and hands me her book. I strum through the pages.

“I’ll make sure to read it and let you know what I think.”

She nods and looks away as if in thought, “I can’t believe we didn’t become friends earlier. Why is that?” 

Her question has me stirring uncomfortably, “Honestly I’m not that surprised. I’m not that noticeable.” 

This comment has Elena furrowing her eyebrows and shaking her head, “You’re joking right,” At my look of confusion she continues, “Of course I noticed you. I mean when you come to a small town like this it’s hard not to be noticed but what I mean is that I always thought you were cool.”

I can feel my cheeks warm up at her compliment and I glance down at my fingers to hide it.

“You thought I was cool?”

“Ya of course,” She responds instantly, “You’ve got great style and you’ve got this mysterious aura about you. I just never approached you because I thought you didn’t like me.” 

Her confession has me looking up and frowning, “Why would you think that?”

She shrugs her shoulders, “You just kind of sometimes look like you don’t want to be approached by anyone. I just assumed. I’m sorry.”

I shake my head at her apology, “Don’t apologize! And no, I never hated you I always thought you were the cool one. I just think I have that look on my face all the time.”

Elena laughs and smiles at me, “OK, good.”

“Good.”

We’re about to start talking about books again when we hear the front door open.

“Jenna must be home,” Elena says as she stands up and reaches her hand down for me to grab. I grab it and pull myself up and we walk downstairs. 

We turn the corner and we both give each other a look as we see Jenna on the ground rummaging through some boxes. 

“Hey. What are you doing,” Elena questions her Aunt.

“Oh perfect timing,” She grabs a cardboard box and hands it to Elena, and then gives another to me.

“Whoa. Oh. What is this stuff?”

“Your mom’s files from the historical society. I got roped into helping Mrs. Lockwood,” Jenna grabs her box and stands up, “And by roped, I mean very excited to participate.”

I silently laugh as I try to balance the heavy box in my arms, the laughing stops though once Jenna closes the door and I lock eyes with the man who’s been haunting my every waking thought. 

“Hey, I’m Elijah.”

Elena and I stand there frozen as we watch Jenna interact with the vampire. 

“Elijah’s in town doing research on Mystic Falls,” She introduces us not knowing we’ve already had the displeasure of meeting. 

I freeze up and grip the box I’m holding tighter to my chest as Elijah walks closer to us. He quickly greets Elena, skating her hand before turning his full attention onto me. I’m visibly shaking right now and it only worsens as Elijah reaches his hands up and grabs the box from my hands. His fingers grazed mine for longer than needed. 

“Here let me take this,” He places the box back down and reaches his hand up to me in greeting. 

We both stand there looking at each other for what seems like forever as he waits for me to shake his hand.

“I don’t like being touched,” I blurt out. Elijah slowly lowers his hand and I might be mistaken but from the look on his face, he almost appeared saddened by that. 

Jenna joins us again telling Elijah that he can stay here and rummage through the boxes, to which he turns down. I try to find the wall behind Elena interesting to keep my line of sight away from the vampire, but I can still sense him staring at me. After another moment he tells Jenna he’s going to have someone pick up the boxes tomorrow and bids Jenna and Elena a farewell. I almost think he’s left us but when I look back over I find that Elijah has moved even closer and he gives me a warm smile and leans down.

“I hope to speak with you again soon, Miss Y/L/N.” My chest starts moving up and down rapidly, which he seems to have noticed, as I nod at his words. He doesn’t seem to get that I won’t be saying anything back to him because he stands there staring at my face. After what seems like a lifetime I watch as he moves by me towards the front door, but not before he lifts a finger and grazes the end of my sweater. 

I watch with bated breath as he shuts the door behind him. Elena doesn’t waste any time before dragging me up the stairs and banging on Jeremy’s door. As she goes to open the door I feel a hand grab my waist and pull me. My back hits something strong and I go to squeal but it comes out muffled as a hand moves over my mouth. I look up and freeze as I stare up at Elena to whom he motions to be quiet. I hear Jeremy open his door but I can’t focus on any of the words he’s saying as I watch Elijah’s face. I make note of the light stubble that runs across his jawline and the practically flawless skin he has. Lucky ass vampires. My staring must’ve caught his attention, as his dark brown eyes meet mine. Once again the corners of his lips turn upwards into a small smile as he watches me watch him. 

Jeremy walking by us catches my attention and Elijah drops the hand from my mouth, but not before leaning down, and what I could’ve sworn was sniffing my hair. Elena quickly grabs my hand and pulls me away from Elijah and for a second I almost feel annoyed at this. Clearly not as annoyed as Elijah though was lets out a snarl, making Elena go rigid. 

“What do you want?”

Elijah composes himself once, “I think it’s time we three at a little chat.”

—-

“Forgive the intrusion. I mean your family no harm,” Elijah tells Elena as he walks around her room.

“Why did you kill those vampires when they tried to take me,” Elena questions him as she comes to sit down next to me on her bed. 

“Because I didn’t want you to be taken,” Elijah says confusing both Elena and I, “Klaus is the most feared and hated of the Originals but those who fear him are desperate for his approval. If word gets out that the doppelganger exists there’ll be a line of vampires eager to take you to him and I can’t have that.”

A cold feeling runs up and down my spine at the mention of Klaus. 

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to do,” Elena questions him again. 

“Let’s just say that my goal is not to break the curse.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion at the confession. Elijah looks at Elena and then brings his eyes towards me for a moment before turning back to Elena as she begins speaking. 

“So what is your goal?”

“Klaus’ obsessions have made in paranoid. He’s a recluse. He trusts only those in his immediate circle.”

“Like you?”

“Not anymore.”

“An old ass paranoid vampire, how much better could this be,” I whisper out loud to myself sarcastically. I look up and see Elijah looking at me with a small smirk on his face as he must’ve heard my comment. 

“You don’t know where he is do you,” Elena questions but he doesn’t turn his gaze away from me, “So you’re trying to use me to draw him out.” 

Elijah lets out a sigh as he turns his attention back towards my friend, “Well, to do that I need you to stay put and stop trying to get yourself killed.”

He gives her a smile and I have to stop myself from smiling at it. 

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Well, if I wasn’t being truthful, all your family would be dead and I’d be taking you to Klaus right now. Instead… I’m here and I’m prepared to offer you a deal.”

And the smile was instantly gone. 

This grabs Elena’s attention, “What kind of a deal?”

Elijah stands up and starts walking around, “Do nothing. Do nothing, live your life, stop fighting. And then, when the time is right, you and I shall draw Klaus out together and I shall make certain that your friends remain unharmed.”

“And then what?”

“Then I kill him.”

“Just like that?”

Elijah smirks at her, “Just like that. I’m a man of my word, Elena. I make a deal, I keep a deal.”

“How are you going to be able to keep everybody safe?”

“You know, I notice you have a friend, Bonnie, is it? She seems to possess the gift of magic. I have friends with similar gifts.”

“You know witches.” Elena nods her head to which I fight the urge to say “duh” to. This guy is oldddd, of course, he knows witches. 

“Together we can protect everybody that matters to you.” 

I watch silently as Elijah walks over to Elena and reaches his hand out for her to shake, “So do we have a deal?”

“As long as you keep my friends safe,” Elena looks over to me, “Y/N is one of those friends.” 

Elijah looks over to me and smirks, “Trust me deal or no deal. No one will be laying a finger on Y/N. That I give you my word on.”

I fidget under his intense stare.  

“I need you to do one more thing for me.”

Elijah turns back to face Elena with an incredulous look, “We’re negotiating now?”

Elena tells Elijah she’ll accept his deal if he gets his witches to free Stefan from some vampire tomb he’s been trapped in. Why has no one told me this yet? Elijah reluctantly agrees and they shake hands, cementing their deal. With one last glance toward me, Elijah nods his head and speeds away. 

Elena and I both let out shaking breaths as we stared at each other. 

“Any chance you want to spend the night,” Elena asks me hopefully with a sheepish look.

I nod my head quickly, “My mom is out of town and my brother’s at a sleepover. There’s no way in hell I’m going back to that empty house tonight.” 

[marigold-hills]

June 8: bubbles | @wolfstarmicrofic | word count: 500

PREVIOUS PART • FIRST PART

cw: use of drugs (magical equivalent of weed)

James and Sirius are laying about James’ bed, hands and legs in disarray, giggling. Above them float iridescent bubbles, the light of the dying day refracting through and emitting distorted rainbows onto the walls.

Each time a bubble bursts it fills the room with sweet-smelling smoke, and the two get another hit and fall into another bout of laughter.

“Pads, Padfoot, Paddy-Pie. You don’t get it. Those eyes,” James sighs so wistfully Sirius worries he’ll inhale too much and float away. It’s a funny thought so Sirius laughs more.

“You’re a masochist, Jamesy-lamb. What were you told? Keep out of my eyesight or I’ll rip out your kidneys?”

“So sweet,” James almost moans through another giggle. “So lovely. I hope you’ll get this one day, Pads. It feels… well it feels a bit like this, actually,” he waves a vague hand around the scented air of the room, “only even better.”

“No thanks, I don’t fancy an impromptu nephrectomy.”

“Nah. That’s not for you. You need someone nice, who’ll take care of you.”

Sirius wraps a hand around the gilded oyster around his neck and thinks of the colour of the eye within it. Thinks of a hand underneath his shirt.

Weird thought, he decides.

“Moony still at the library?”

“That funny swot. He needs more sleep, he does, have you seen the bags under his eyes?”

“Thanks, Prongs,” comes the Moony voice, one of a kind, from behind them, full of laughter. “You truly know how to compliment a guy.”

“Moons!” Sirius rolls forward, an excited dog greeting its favourite person. “My moonage daydream, I have stollen chocolate cake for you from dinner.”

Remus puts a hand on Sirius’ hair, sits on the bed by him. “You have? Always so thoughtful for me.”

“Thoughtful, my arse,” James interjects the moment, “if he were thoughtful, he’d have stolen you actual dinner. Moony, you look about five minutes away from keeling over.”

The hand petting through Sirius’ hair takes out some of the sting from the words, but James is right, isn’t he?

“And you two are high as hippogryphs the night before an exam. That horse isn’t looking very tall, Prongs.”

Remus looks down at where Sirius worked his head into his lap (when did that happen?), eyes soft and lovely. He looks so pretty like this, even with the dark circles under his eyes.

“May I have my cake, mo réalta?”

Sirius tries to stand up to get it, but the hand in his hair keeps him from moving.

“Don’t. Just tell me where it is, please.”

Remus gets his cake and sits back down on the bed, with a gentle hand manoeuvres Sirius’ head back onto his thigh. Rips off a piece of cake with his fingers and feeds it to Sirius. Another bubble bursts somewhere above them, the air becoming almond-sweet.

Suddenly, Sirius is hungry. “This is the best cake I’ve ever tasted.”

James, uncharacteristically quiet, bursts out in almost manic laughter. “That’s the bubbles talking, Padfoot.”

NOTES:

part 8! Of 30 :)

Early morning chapter courtesy of my lack of sleep :)

I kept thinking of bubbles left over in a shower or a bath when deciding what to write for this, but figured that’s too early in the story yet :)

hope everyone has an excellent weekend ❤️

@moon-girl88 @digital-kam @tealeavesandtrash @sweetstarryskies @alltoounwellll @hunnybeemarie @hoje--aqui @annaliza999 @hihimissamericanbi

(let me know if you do/don’t want to be tagged in next parts)

[writing-for-life]

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

Or: Does Morpheus really have commitment issues?

[Bear with me, I’ll get to this panel 🤣]

I’ve read many times that Morpheus supposedly has commitment issues, and it always has me scratching my head a bit…

I personally rather think he is desperate to commit. He so badly craves a serious relationship that he is prone to rush into it and build it on wonky foundations, but he has certainly no commitment issues as we would commonly understand them.

Is it in his nature though to be truly seen and understood when he is [a] Dream? And can dreams ever last? These are the much more interesting questions in my view. Let’s have a look at the romantic relationships we know of…

Killalla: Walked out on him. That wasn’t his lack of commitment. If anything, he came on a bit strong while she was still assessing her feelings for him.

Alianora: He fully committed to her despite basically being bullied into it by Desire. And they were happy for “a goodly while”. For those in doubt: “Goodly” doesn’t mean “a bit”. It means “great, large, long.” And the fact that Alianora couldn’t go back to her own plane because she had stayed in the Dreaming too long corroborates that they were together for a long time. Probably longer than any human relationship ever lasts, because I doubt “a long time” means “a couple of years” for someone who is 12 billion years old.

And now I’ll sandwich the relationship we hardly know anything about between some random (?) panels to also make a point why I think it might sit here in the timeline…

Titania: Who knows. Sounded like an affair, and as if they both had no intention of committing. He was clearly very fond of her though, and I can never shake the feeling that we should look a bit deeper into AMND and find the parallels between Auberon, Titania (not hard, and they are pretty much pictured as estranged) and Bottom. There are many ways to get confused with a jackass, you know? 🤣 Plus, Bottom is the one who gets to play Pyramus in “Pyramus and Thisbe”. That’s the ultimate blueprint for “Romeo and Juliet”: Ill-fated love of catastrophic proportions, people are dead by the end of it. That’s why I often wondered if the affair with Titania was actually pre-Nada, and the inspiration for Shakespeare wasn’t random (it wasn’t random for The Tempest either). I mean, it wasn’t random anyway because it was a parting gift, but I also don’t think it was entirely random with regard to their relationship. Wild head-canon of course, but maybe not that wild (he also says that Wendel’s Mound was already a theatre before humans walked the earth, so there’s that)? And even if he wasn’t committed (we quite frankly don’t know if he intended to but she didn’t or couldn’t), she and the Fae meant enough to him to give them a play as a parting gift.

Nada: Killed herself after one night, but that wasn’t down to lack of commitment on his part. Again: If anything, he came on far too strong, wanted to be with her and was far too pushy about it.

Calliope: We don’t know how long they were together before they had Orpheus. Could have been a while, could have been only a shortish time. But even if we assumed they had him fairly quickly—they were still together when Orpheus, who was mortal, got married to Eurydice, so even if he got married young, we’re still talking something in the realm of +/- 20 years, and that’s the absolute low-ball-estimate. And while they had started to drift apart (considering what we know from Calliope), they were still on good terms and had no intention of splitting up until the whole Orpheus drama caused a rift they couldn’t mend. Again: That’s not someone who has commitment issues. It’s a relationship breaking down over hurt, stubbornness and grief.

Thessaly: Again, she was the one who left him and caused his dramatic interlude in the rain. Were they ill suited? Yes. Did she feel neglected and went into a strop over it? Yes. Did he not get that she felt neglected? Also yes, but that’s not lack of commitment. That’s his not getting that people aren’t mind readers (must be hard if you’re probably one yourself 🤣) and, by and large, need assurances of love. He doesn’t get that these women don’t understand they have his love; he can’t grasp that line of thinking because it is all so clear to him when he loves someone: They have him, what’s the issue? Is that a not so great way of (not) communicating when you’re having a relationship to someone? Absolutely. Is it a commitment issue though? Absolutely not.

I think Morpheus doesn’t really have commitment issues in romantic relationships—wouldn’t that almost be antithetical to his nature? Rules and responsibilities. Yeah, about that one…

What I do think is that he struggles with the mortifying ordeal of being (not) known by his lovers. Because how could he? He is Dream. That is his problem. Dreams cannot be fully known or understood. He is very eloquent but at the same time a very… confusing communicator. I don’t want to say “bad”, because I feel that’s not getting to the bottom of it. Again, it is the nature of dreams to be confusing and strange, open to (mis)interpretation, hard to grasp and understand. And they also stop being dreams once they become real. All of that is true and hence makes relationships both hard for him and those involved. Is he truly not willing to commit though?

I still find that hard to believe…

[felassan]

some snippets from Mark Darrah’s co-stream of SGF opening keynote:

Chat asked “We’re getting 15 min of gameplay on Tuesday. Can you share if the release date will be announced at any of these upcoming events?” Mark replied, “I don’t know if the release date is going to be announced. I don’t think so.” --- Chat asked if he would make a video about the name change. Mark replied “I want the news on the name change to settle a little bit before I do a video, just to see where everything’s landing, but yeah, I’ll do a video on the name.” [that video is up but is members-only] --- Mark: “There are good reasons for the name change. Any time, I mean, changing a name is definitely not a free thing to do, so. It’s impressive to me that the team considered it significantly worth it, and worth it enough to do it. Veilguard does fit the actual game better. The interesting thing is, is the group that it matters the most for are not the full Dragon Age franchise fans, it’s more the people who came into the franchise at DA:I and haven’t played another game. That’s where ‘Dreadwolf’ is the more troublesome game, because it's implying more of a direct sequel. So, if you’ve been with the franchise the whole time, you know that Dragon Age changes every time, but if DA:I was your first one, you don’t want people coming into this game thinking ‘oh it’s a direct sequel, where’s my Inquisitor, what’s going on?’ Like that’s just, an unforced error. If you had never played another DA game, Dreadwolf is fine, because it doesn’t really mean anything. It’s mostly the, I played DA:I and I’m not fully immersed in the franchise, I’m immersed enough to know what Dreadwolf means, but not enough to know what Dragon Age typically means.” --- Mark: “Honestly I think Dreadwolf is just carrying the momentum of having been around for a while. All names sound better the longer they’ve been around. Well, not all, I suppose, but almost all. I think The Veilguard will grow on everyone very quickly I suspect.” --- Mark: “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of the ‘the’ either, but, there are reasons for it.” --- Mark: “I think that if EA ever decides to do a remaster of the original trilogy, then I suspect they can probably be convinced to change 'Dragon Age II' to 'Exodus', in that circumstance. Otherwise I don’t think it’ll ever happen.” “The only thing with Exodus is we a get a bit, in this sort’ve, accidental, the games are named after books of the Bible, thing, which I’ve talked about before, but. I guess The Veilguard is not a name of the Bible, nor Dreadwolf, so I guess it would’ve broken with this game anyway.”

[source]

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Fuck Up Chapter 3

Summary:  Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy

The next morning Bucky woke to a loud buzzing. He shifted around until he could find his pants and rummaged through his pockets, pulling out his phone and trying to see who was calling him.

“Hello?” he said hoarsely.

“Where are you?” Becca said, her voice sounding worried and annoyed.

“What? I…” Bucky turned and looked around, remembering the night before. He looked at Y/N, still asleep next to him. “I fell asleep at Y/N’s,” he said quickly.

“God, of course you did,” Becca sighed exasperatedly. “You’re supposed to leave for the airport in an hour. Are you even packed?”

“Yes, yes I’m ready,” Bucky said quietly as he got up slowly and gathered up his clothes. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay. Is Y/N coming to the airport with us?”

Bucky froze at that. He didn’t know how he was even going to have this conversation with her as he left, let alone if she were to come with him to the airport to say goodbye. “Uh…I’m not sure.”

“Alright, well, get home soon, Mom is freaking out as usual.”

“I will. Bye.”

Bucky hung up and slipped his clothes on quickly. As he fixed his hair and put his shoes on he looked back at Y/N. He didn’t know if he’d be able to handle waking her and saying goodbye. Last night had been so perfect, he didn’t want to ruin it. He sighed as he walked to her side of the bed, kneeling down to look at her. She snored lightly, her eyes moving behind her eyelids as she dreamed. He smiled at her, carefully moving some of her hair back in place and out of her eyes. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.

“I’m leaving,” he whispered. “I don’t think I can handle saying goodbye to you again. So I won’t wake you. Either way, you’ll hate me for it. But I’ll be back,” he kissed her shoulder, adjusting the blankets around her. “I’ll come home to you.” A tear slid down his face as he stared at her one more time. “I love you.”

Bucky sent her a text after he left basically saying the same thing that he had whispered to her. He knew this was a massive fuck up, but it was too late now. He’d come home to her and fix it, and everything would be okay. It had to be.

10 months later

Bucky came home hurt, both physically and emotionally. He was grateful it was his final tour. He and Steve had survived, barely. The landmine had thrown them both and killed two of the other troops on his team. He had made it out alive, but the shrapnel that had embedded into his back had taken two surgeries to remove. He was still healing when he got off the plane and was greeted by his family.

“Oh you made it,” Winifred cried heavily, George and Becca hugging him and crying. “You are never going back, you hear me? No more, I will not allow it.”

“I’m done, Ma, I’m done,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m officially discharged. Retired.”

“Good,” Winifred said, patting down his uniform and looking him over.

“Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asked, looking around expectantly.  Becca then punched his arm. “Ow! What the hell?” he yelped.

“We will talk about it when we get home,” she hissed at him.

When they reached the house Becca rounded on him. “What did you do?”

“Excuse me?” Bucky asked.

“What did you do to Y/N?” Becca snarled. Bucky’s eyes widened. He hadn’t heard from Y/N since he left, which was out of the ordinary because she always wrote to him, but he thought for sure she would have been there to greet him when he got home. He hadn’t been able to worry about it too much, what with special operations and the whole trying-not-to-die-part, then healing from nearly getting killed.  “She disappeared after you left. I’ve tried calling, her number is disconnected.” Winifred sniffled next to him. “I tried going to her apartment, the landlord says she no longer lives there.” Bucky’s brow furrowed. She loved that apartment. “I even reached out to her adoptive family, who of course know nothing.  All her social media is deactivated. We haven’t been able to find her. So I will ask again, what did you do?”

Bucky was afraid. He knew it wasn’t the right thing to leave her without waking her up and saying goodbye, he just couldn’t bear it.  And now she is gone? “I…we…”

Becca’s face twisted with recognition. “Oh my god…you fucked her.”

“You what?!” George and Winifred exclaimed.

Bucky hung his head into his hands. “Yes, okay, the night before I left. But you make it sound so gross, it wasn’t like that,” he said, running his hands through his now short hair.

“Explain,” Becca demanded.

“I…look, it just happened. I was leaving and we were both sad and when I woke up the next morning I just couldn’t…I couldn’t stand to wake her up and say goodbye again so I…I texted her and then I left.”

“You…you TEXTED HER?!” Becca screamed, jumping forward and hitting him again.

“Ow! I know, hey, I KNOW!” Bucky yelled back at her, pushing her hands away. “I know I fucked up! Okay? I’ve regretted it ever since. Not her, but leaving like that. I just thought…I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid and I was hoping when I got home I could fix it.” He took a shaky breath. “She never wrote to me. And I was worried when you guys had said you hadn’t seen her in a while but, now she’s gone?” He sat on the chair at the table next to him. “Gone…”

They all sat in silence for a moment. Becca was the first to move, sighing heavily as she walked over and took the seat across from him. “You’re right, you fucked up real bad.” Bucky scoffed as he wiped his face with his hands. “We’re still looking for her. If there’s anything you can think of that might help us, then great. Otherwise,” she reached over and grabbed his hand. “I’m happy you’re safe and you’re home, but I’m really angry with you.”

Bucky nodded, squeezing her hand.

[sharpth1ng]

Since the photo of the pope on Stu’s fridge has been discovered I’ve seen a lot of takes about how Stu would definitely have religious guilt and would have more issues with his feelings for Billy. I want to be clear I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that take, it’s definitely something to explore if it interests you but it also flattens the breadth of responses to a religious upbringing and religious trauma. There are so many ways a person might respond to that kind of experience and it doesn’t just stop with internalized guilt.

What about the people who just kind of never fall in line? They’re punished for it over and over but it doesn’t make the religion make sense to them. And maybe they learn over time hide their disbelief, they learn to be quiet at church and hide their same sex partners but the moment they’re 18 they are gone.

What about the people who believed when they were young and have had an experience to change that? Maybe they saw religion used to justify the mistreatment of a sibling or a friend, and they thought “if there is a god, they wouldn’t think this is right”.

What about the ones that swing hard in the opposite direction? The ones so angry with the beliefs instilled in them that they do almost anything they can to enrage their religious family? They may not even be doing this intentionally, but teenage rebellion is teenage rebellion, and if your family is catholic then Catholicism might be what you rebel against. What better way to rebel against the anti gay religion than to kiss another boy? Do you know how many queer pagans and Satanists I know who have a history of religious trauma?

Have you ever felt so mistreated by someone or something, so deeply wronged, that almost anything they disapprove of becomes enticing? I definitely have.

And here’s the thing with Stu, he might have a religious family but he sure does talk about sex a lot. Unabashedly too. He spends the night at his girlfriends house, and she confirms that they have sex. He fills his house with people, feeds them booze, and kills a bunch of them. This isn’t giving me the picture of a fearful catholic son.

Before I saw the pope picture I had already been writing Stu’s family as conservative and religious. He definitely grew up with the idea that sex is a sin and gay sex is even worse. But he’s not a guy that likes authority. He likes sensory pleasure and chaos, and at least some of that is a rejection of his upbringing. Dude watches slasher movies and raunchy comedies like clerks. He fucks and he talks openly about it. He gets drunk and he directs his best friend to go take his girlfriends virginity in his parents bed.

He’s rebelling.

To me? Yeah he might have been the kind of kid who had religious fears and guilts when he was younger. He’s definitely been baptized and his family probably still makes him go to church sometimes. But he’s not isolated. It’s the mid 90s and he has access to more media than kids did ever before. He’s had access to alternative view points, narratives that contradict the ones instilled in him when he was young.

And the 90s are a time characterized by a loud rejection of convention. Grunge rocker Kurt Cobain wears dresses, the riot grrl movement is in full swing, and people are getting really into modern forms of paganism. It’s popular to reject your parents beliefs.

There’s an interview with Neve Campbell where she talks about how she thinks Billy and Stu were partly motivated by the rage of being unable to be themselves in Woodsboro and I think that works really well here. What better what to say a fuck you to your religious parents than to have buttsex with a pretty dude and kill a bunch of people?

Again, this is just the way I see the character. There’s nothing wrong with different interpretations and fandom would be boring if we all saw these characters in the exact same way. But yeah just an alternative way to look at it.

[dira333]

Care too much - Tsukishima x Reader

If you ever dare to ask me about the lore behind this, better be prepared.

Tagging: @lees-chaotic-brain @fuzztacular @melfromwonderland @qardasngan @xangel-8 @lemurzsquad

“Toss to me Senpai?” Hinata’s voice cuts through the usual after-training chatter like a hot knife through butter. Tsukishima wishes for his headphones, but those are out of reach.

“Your enthusiasm is admirable, Hinata-” Ennoshita starts, clearly trying to help.

“I’d love to,” you say, “but we have to keep the others in mind. Surely everyone else wants to go home.”

Tsukishima does. They are training more than hard enough and he’s still got homework to get to, not to mention the math exam he needs to prepare for. He only realizes that he’s still looking in your direction when you turn your head and catch his eye, sending him one of those calm smiles he’s learned to expect from you.

He turns away, but not fast enough. Yamaguchi sends him a questioning look.

At least his best friend is smart enough not to ask about it when others are present.

.

“How are you keeping up?” You ask, falling into step alongside him. Yamaguchi tenses to his right, but no one else seems to think it weird that you’re talking to them.

You’re friendly to everyone, but Hinata quickly claimed your attention. He was the one who found out you played Volleyball before you moved and even though he lacked the brain, he did not miss the fact that you’re talented.

Ennoshita and the more sensible second-years are never far from you and are most likely the reason you joined their team as assistant Coach instead of the girls.

“Tsukishima?” Your voice cuts through his musings. He flinches and turns, surprised to hear Yamaguchi muffle a snort behind his hand.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“I’ve noticed. Is the training regimen too much?”

“No,” he sounds a little too defensive, he thinks, but he doesn’t want you to think he’s lacking. “No, it’s just… I was thinking about the upcoming math exam.”

You nod. “I understand. How are you doing in that subject?”

It’s easy to talk to you, Tsukishima realizes. He might not like spending so much time with hotheads like Hinata and Kageyama, but Volleyball Club isn’t all that bad if it means spending time with sensible people like you. And the others, he immediately follows up, as if to defend his thoughts to himself. You’re not the only sensible person on the team.

-

“Here,” you hand him a bottle, “drink this.”

“What is it?” Tsukishima asks, a little annoyed. He doesn’t like admitting it, but he’s thankful for all the tips he’s gotten from Kuroo, even though he still hasn’t figured out why he does it. Is he trying to fool him, teach him something he can exploit later? Whatever the reason, he’s started butting into things that don’t concern him. And if you’re now digging into his small appetite as well, he’s going to-

“It helps,” you explain calmly, “my Dad showed me. I don’t have that much of an appetite but I need, I mean, needed the calories. It’s a little trick. Try it, see if you like it.”

It tastes like strawberries and cream, has the consistency of a milkshake.

“Thanks,” he mutters, a little lost in his feelings.

Your hand is warm on his shoulder, the grip strong. It sends a strange flutter through his body that he likes as much as he despises it.

.

“Do you have a minute?” You ask, meeting him in the darkness. Behind him the warm light of a now deserted Gym, behind you the dimly lit hallways that lead to the bathrooms.

“Sure,” Tsukishima agrees because it’s you. His feet follow your direction as you lead him down the path, away from the bathrooms and the Gyms. You don’t speak for a while and even though he’s tired and sweaty, he can’t argue about the calmness of the moment.

That is, until you turn at the sound of an animal and your hand brushes his, knuckles over knuckles, skin slick with sweat. 

It’s only for a second, maybe even less, but he can feel himself moving, grasping for your hand as if to hold it. And isn’t that ridiculous?

“You wanted to talk about something?” Tsukishima says, heart in his throat as he balls his hands to fists, fighting against something in him he cannot begin to explain, to understand.

“Yes.” You nod, look at the ground first, then up at him. “I wanted to ask what you think of yourself.”

His tongue feels too large for his mouth. Do you know what he’s been thinking about lately?

“I know Yamaguchi already talked to you, he told me bits and pieces of it. I wanted to talk to you too, but I…” you laugh abruptly, “well, it seems he was faster. Tsukishima, do you think you’re less than… than the others?”

“Never,” his mouth says when his heart screams Of course!

You smile in a way that tells him that you’ve already seen through him.

“This is a training camp,” you tell him and he can’t help but admire how you brush against the topic with such a gentle hand, “I won’t take too much of your attention. I’m gonna give you my number, okay, and we can talk about this some more when we’re home and have a bit of free time to our hands.”

He laughs. The idea of free time has long turned unfamiliar. 

“Poor Tsukishima,” you smile with a smile that has his heart bubbling, “it seems I’m going to have to help you.”

-

“Tsukishima-Senpai?” One of the new first-years asks and it’s so weird, isn’t it, to be in the middle like that. Still looking up to the Third-Years, but well aware of the example you’re supposed to be giving.

“Yes?”

“I was told- uh, I was told to take this form to the Coach, but I can’t find them anywhere and I don’t know- uh, Hinata-Senpai said I should ask you or, or the Captain, but I’m-”

“Look,” he grabs the boy’s shoulder and turns him a little until he can see you, sitting next to Takeda-Sensei, smiling a little at Nishinoya’s and Tanaka’s antics, “You can go and ask our assistant Coach.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m one hundred percent positive that she’s not going to bite off your head if you ask her something. I might, however.”

Yamaguchi sidles up to him the moment the younger boy runs off, grinning in a way that tells Tsukishima he heard every word.

“Hush,” he tells his best friend, “you heard nothing.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you. It’s weird to have our Third-Years missing, isn’t it? I miss Suga’s gentle hand.”

Tsukishima sighs. Yes. Ennoshita’s a good Captain, but he’s still a little unsure of himself. His eyes find you without meaning too, catch the smile you share with the shy First-Year.

“We still have a gentle hand. If we do our best we might even be able to show it ourselves next year.”

Yamaguchi laughs, clearly surprised. But he’s still his best friend, dropping the topic when it becomes clear he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

.

“Is that seat taken?” You ask, voice barely audible. He takes his backpack off the chair and watches you slide in, the mountain of books in your arms a clear sign of the upcoming exams.

Tsukishima doesn’t want you to leave. Not this school, not this team. Not- no, he’s not going to go there.

You catch him looking, send him the calm smile he’s grown fond of, maybe even addicted.

There’s the sound of paper ripping and a little folded up note lands in his lap. 

His hands shake a little when he opens it up, your handwriting is neat, the ink not yet dried, smudging as he smoothes the paper.

Can we go for a drink later? I need to tell you something.

His heart thumbs uncomfortably in his throat when he looks up, your smile is bittersweet.

Whatever his heart is wishing for, his head already knows that it won’t be the topic you’ve chosen today.

And he’s right.

You’re not confessing to him, nor are you addressing his own, deep seated, carefully hidden feelings for you. 

The truth is worse and better at the same time.

You’re leaving, right after graduation.

And though you promise to keep in contact, a part of him sighs in relief.

Maybe, through distance, his heart will let go of this ridiculous idea.

After all, there are not many people he admires in this world, but he’s not dumb enough to think he could be a match for one of them.

-

His throat is dry, his nose clogged and he can barely see but his blaring phone does not care about that at all.

It takes him a moment to find it amongst the used tissues, one more to figure out how to pick up the call.

“I’m not sick,” he grunts into the little device, expecting yet another one of Yamaguchi’s worried Check-Ins.

“You do sound like it though,” your voice answers and the shiver it sends all over his body is most definitely not from the fever he’s been fighting.

“W-well, I’m not,” he stutters, looking for his glasses. He feels vulnerable without them, even more so with you on the phone.

How long has it been that he’s heard your voice?

“Well, if you’re not sick, how come that Yamaguchi asked me to check in on you?”

“He did? He’s worried for nothing, that’s all.”

“Mhm,” the little sound you make in the back of your throat does weird things to his stomach, “So you did not not pick up the phone yesterday after he brought you home with a high fever the day before that?”

“What are you, our mother?” He asks, words slipping from his raw throat. He regrets them the moment he hears them, even more when your answer is silence.

“Do you see me as a mother figure?” You ask and there’s a new feeling in his stomach, one that’s asking him to find the nearest bathroom before he’s starting to heave.

“No, I-” Tsukishima doesn’t know how to explain himself, or what to say without giving himself away. So he says nothing and neither do you.

Eventually though, he has to make a sound, mainly because he can’t keep from coughing for more than a few minutes.

“Tsukishima,” you ask, voice grown up and small at the same time, “tell me, how are you? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

If your conversation only grazes the surface of what he wants to talk about it’s his fault and his fault alone.

.

“I really like you,” the girl tells him, a little box of chocolates in her hands. “Will you be my boyfriend?”

She’s brave, to ask like this. Just this morning another girl from his class confessed to him. He’s forgotten her name on purpose but he’s not blind to how well-liked she was among her peers. 

This girl, however, isn’t. She’s too tall for a girl, some say, too shy to be class president, too lanky to be good in sports. But she’s got a calm smile that reminds him of you and maybe that’s the reason he accepts, with a guilty heart and a knot in his stomach.

Maybe all he needs is someone else to fall in love with.

He knows it’s stupid, but he’s never been smart when it came to his heart.

-

“It’s a clean break.”

“It will heal fast, no lasting damages.”

“At least now you’ll have time to focus on your schoolwork. College is no joke.”

“Do you need my help, Tsukki? I can take a few days off work until you’re settled.”

He doesn’t want help. He might need it, but he doesn’t want it.

He doesn’t want company either, because none of them know what to do with him. 

He’s miserable company on his best days but breaking his finger will leave even someone as cheerful as Hinata in a slump.

But, he thinks bitterly, things like that don’t happen to Hinata. Or Kageyama. 

No, those things happen to him, right when he’s finally got a starter position in his College team. Right when he feels almost comfortable in his life.

So it’s not unreasonable for him not to want to talk to people.

If only the people would realize that and leave him alone.

.

First, it was the doorbell. Then came the knocking. Now someone’s calling his name.

“I’m coming!” Tsukishima’s not expecting anyone but if he had to guess, he’d say his brother made his way over. Akiteru has yet to learn when to keep away.

He fumbles with the keys, his cast as usual in the way.

The door opens wide and he stills, too aware of you to be aware of himself.

You look gorgeous. Your hair’s a mess, your eyes red and overshadowed by exhaustion, your shirt looks like you slept in it. His hand reaches out, faster than his brain can keep up, tapping your shoulder to make sure you’re real.

“Yes, it’s me,” you tell him, half a grin on your face, “let me in?”

Tsukishima steps aside, only now realizing he’s wearing boxer shorts and socks and nothing more. Heat crawls up his throat and he thunders down the hallway and into his bedroom to get dressed the best he can. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, anger lacing his voice to hide his shame. “Last time we talked you were-”

“Halfway back to Japan,” you interrupt him from the doorway. “It’s not official yet, but I’m starting as Assistant Coach for the Sendai Frogs next month. It’s just a Division 2 team, but it’s a start.”

He stills, not just because his arm is stuck in his shirt. 

“You’re moving back to Japan?”

“Well, I was planning to,” you joke, “kinda hard to Coach a Japanese Team when you’re living in Argentina. Can I help you with that?”

“I’m fine,” he argues.

“That you are.” There’s a teasing lilt to your words that has his ears burning. 

He’s twenty years old, not fifteen.

“When did you arrive?” He’s trying his best but his arm is stuck. You’re halfway through the room before he can speak up, hands warm as you help him out of his misery.

“Half an hour ago.” 

You’re too close, but too far away. This is not- Can he still blame it on the painkillers if he took the last one this morning? He opens his mouth to ask you when he realizes that you’re the last person he should ask about this. But-

“Tsukishima?” You ask, voice soft, smile calm like he’s grown to love. “You’re in your head again.”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, “How did you know?”

“You mumble your thoughts when you’re like that,” you point out and he might have caught it, the meaning those words carry, if your hand hadn’t reached up to cradle his cheek.

His eyes close for a brief second. In that darkness, there’s just your touch, the warmth of your hand.

His eyes flicker open again. You’re closer now and though he shouldn’t his eyes flicker to your lips, dry and chapped from a long flight.

“Do you love me, Tsukishima?” You ask. He leans in to kiss you. He’ll just blame it on the painkillers later.

.

“You had a crush on me,” Tsukishima points out, half dumbfounded, half giddy about the revelation.

“We just became a couple,” you point out, drawing your finger through the air to literally point at the way you’re sitting, your legs over his, ankles crossed, your face smushed against his shoulder. Your jetlag and his exhaustion do not mix well. Or maybe they mix perfectly, who knows at this point?

“Still,” he lets the truth linger on his tongue. It tastes delicious, like victory.

“But I think you were crushing on me first.”

“Well, we could fight about that,” he says with the air of someone who’s already won. 

You snicker. “I am sure we will. But, Kei-” You stop when he shivers, the sound of his first name on your tongue still a little too indecent for this early hour. “I wanna talk some more about this. I had this big speech planned and-”

He leans in, presses his lips against yours. Once, twice, some more because he can, because he’s allowed to, one more just because.

“I think we should sleep first, talk later,” he can feel you smile, lips against lips, nose bumping his, “we’ve got all the time to talk about it in the morning.”

“Look at you, trying to be reasonable,” you coo, “You’ve grown so fast.”

-

“I still can’t believe it,” Hinata says, clearly a little miffed that his favorite Senpai picked Tsukishima over him. “He’s so mean all the time. Are you being held captive?”

You laugh easily. “No, but better make sure Kei’s here on his own free will. He might be the one being blackmailed.”

“Well, I can see it,” Sugawara declares friendly, “Tsukishima and you always got along. Two pees in a pod, really.” He winks.

“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Tsukishima declares with the air of someone who could care less. Your hand squeezes his and he knows he’s been found out. You know he cares. A little too much most of the time.

Buy me a Coffee?

[eepwriting]

• mean brat taming dom ii who is SO soft with u after (my hc says there’s no way he’s not into impact play tbh)

• ivy being the absolute softest gentlest daddy dom ever (tell me he doesn’t give that strong gentle energy. the praise he would give?! UGH)

• primal feral vessel claiming you after chasing you through the forest. right there on the leaf littered floor

• iii edging you over and over on his thigh until you’re sobbing and brain dead (really i just think iii would enjoy being as much of a fucking tease as possible. whispering dirty thoughts in your ear through the day. stealing spicy touches. leading up to when he can finally get you alone and drive you REALLY crazy)

• reader x vessel x ivy threesome. soft daddy dom ivy and mean dom vessel

i have too many filthy ideas but no ability to write them so 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 godspeed, hope these inspire some filth from you!

- thirsty girl 💘

Count ‘em ✶ II x GN! Reader

Warnings: nsfw, smut, impact play (spanking, light slapping, choking, pinching, hair pulling), degradation, oral (m receiving), mean! ii

TRUST when I say I will be returning to this ask to write something for every prompt. Also, THANKS for some ii stuff!! I was feeling bad that I only had one thing wrote for him 🤍🤍

!! mdi !!

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“Move it, I’ve already said it once. That should be enough.” His voice is stern, his eyes serious as he impatiently drums his fingers on his legs.

You knew him well enough at this point to know what his calm demeanor truly meant. Even the way he undressed you minutes before had been slow and careful. Only you knew that the second he got you over his lap, his actions would not be gentle.

You swallow nervously, hoping he can’t hear the sound of your heart about to break through your chest. You knew your brattiness throughout the day had gotten you here. Your unrelenting back talk and attitude wasn’t something you gave ii often, but for whatever reason, you wanted to see how far you could push him today.

You’re slow to move towards him, his full and undivided attention on you feeling as if it was about to burn a hole into the side of your face. He lets you help yourself onto his lap, crawling to lay face down across his spread thighs. His hand is heavy on your back once you get settled, sliding up your spine to rest in between your shoulder blades. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been awfully difficult.” His hand moves up into your hair to tug, pulling your head back slightly. “Hm?”

You think about your answer carefully and decide to just be honest with him. He’d know anyway if you were lying. “I think it’s fun.” Your hand grips his calf when he tugs harder, isolating a chunk of hair at the crown of your head. “Fun? To mess with me? To irritate and piss me off to no end? You think that’s fun, is what I’m hearing?” You nod meekly, silently enjoying the pull on your hair. He only hums and reaches his other hand around to wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make breathing slightly more difficult, but not enough to make you panic for air.

“Well I don’t think that’s very fun at all. In fact, only a desperate, pathetic little whore would find something like that to be fun. Is that what you are then? A desperate and pathetic whore?” The hand in your hair disappears to grope roughly at your ass before settling on a cheek, leaving a stinging pinch. You take in a short gasp of air at the sting, earning a quiet snicker from ii. His full hand comes down in a dull smack before massaging over your skin. “You make it so easy, you know. Your skin practically begs to be marked up. You seem to want that too, don’t you? You wouldn’t act up if you didn’t.” Another, this time harsher smack is dealt. “I didn’t get an answer to my question.” The hand around your throat tightens.

Your eyes close in a long blink before you attempt a nod. He makes a sound of disappointment next to you. “You know you’re supposed to use your words. Don’t play dumb.” His hand moves to the back of your thigh to pinch and pull at the skin.

You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes. I’m a desperate and pathetic whore.” This earns you a groan and another spank. “There you go. Maybe you can follow instructions. Why don’t you count ‘em for me, hm?” His touch is soft as he runs his hand up your back. Your mumbled and nervous “okay” is enough for him to swat at your ass again. He waits for your response before landing another. “2…” The pain is tolerable but you know he’s just warming up.

He lands 10 solid smacks, each progressively getting harsher before massaging his hand over your stinging skin. You hiss at the touch and make a poor attempt to shift your hips away from him. “I like watching you jolt from the pain. The little gasps you let out.” The hand around your throat moves to run through your hair.

He repeats the same actions on the other cheek, but doesn’t build up at all. The 10 makes your skin sting, like hot fire, your eyes watering at the repeated blows. II knows you can take it, knows you enjoy it. Clearly evident by the way moans and whimpers flood out of your mouth and your hips grind down on his thigh.

He lets you rest, massaging his fingers over your scalp, his other hand lightly scratching over your back. “On your knees now.” He says after his moment of quiet tenderness. Excitement blooms in your stomach, ready and aching to take more than just his harsh hands. You’re slow to move off his lap and even slower to sink to the floor. The skin on your ass is hot against your calves and ankles, a dull but persistent sting radiating as you get situated on your knees.

II cups the sides of your face, moving your head side to side as he looks down at you. His thumbs move over your cheeks before he leans down to press his mouth to yours. It’s harsh and rushed. Teeth clashing together before he bites over your bottom lip. His hand returns around your throat before he drags you up to stand on your knees. He roughly grips your hip, digging his fingertips into the skin, hard enough you’re sure to see a bruise in the morning. He licks into your mouth a final time before breaking away from you. He groans when he looks at you. Hair messed up from his hands, lips red and slightly inflamed, the skin on your neck a bright white with how much pressure he’s applying to your throat. His thumb absentmindedly runs over your lips before he hooks it over your bottom lip to force your mouth open. Your tongue comes out to lick over his thumb, earning another low groan from ii. “Such a pretty mouth. I’m gonna fuck it.” His thumb messily runs over your outstretched tongue. An inadvertent whimper comes from you at those words, your hands impatiently grabbing at his thighs. He snickers at you before standing to remove his jeans.

Both his hands cradle your head in surprising tenderness but his eyes and facial expression are cold and stern as he looks down at you. He lightly slaps your cheek twice and you take that as a cue to open your mouth for him. He hums, sliding one hand to the back of your head. He wastes no time in sliding his cock fully into your awaiting mouth. II’s jaw clenches and his hips buck towards you when your lips wrap around him. “Put that mouth of yours to good use.” He grunts, cock moving in and out of your mouth quickly. His too tight grip on your hair makes you whine around him and squeeze your eyes shut. A harsher slap lands on your cheek. “You keep your eyes on me.” It almost comes out in a growl as he practically straddles your face, forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he can. He doesn’t let up despite your watering eyes, gags and nails digging into the skin on his thighs.

You know he’s close when the sounds he lets out become higher pitched and the rhythm of his thrusts turn disjointed. “Take it. Be good and take it.” He breathes out before letting out a long groan. His movements pause as he cums at the back of your throat, his hand holding your head close to him. You breathe through your nose and patiently wait for him to pull away from you. You can finally close your eyes, forcing leftover tears down your cheeks when he backs away. You stay looking up at him, his chest heaving, eyes heavy and relaxed now.

He lazily reaches out to brush over the top of your head and wipe over your cheeks. He holds his hand out for you, letting you take your time in rising to your feet. He pulls you into a long hug, hands running up and down your back. He guides you to lay on the bed, insisting you lay on your stomach. He lays next to you for a short while, asking you repeatedly if you’re okay, peppering kisses on the side of your face. He leaves your side and comes back with water and an ice pack. He watches you sip the water while holding the ice on your still red hot skin. He coos at you when you wince, shuffling closer to you as he watches you with concern filled eyes.

Your tiredness eventually catches up to you and you’re not sure how long you’ve dozed off before you feel ii straddle your hips. You whine when his hard again cock pushes against you. “Mm, don’t touch…it’s too much.” You furrow your brows and try to shift away from his hands that brush over your aching skin. “Shhh, I know, love. You’ve been so good for me…wanna help you. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His voice is quiet as he leans over you, nuzzling his head against your neck. He lazily mouths over your skin and ever so slowly inches into you.

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The way I could not focus for more than 5 minutes while writing this 🙃 I had different plans for this but I just could not use enough brain power to write it lol

BUT I’m so excited to return to this ask!!! So many good ideas 👏🏻 thank you again anon 💘

Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!

K. Bye bye.

[tipofthemountain]

i just wanted you

the original post!

tags: simon “ghost” riley x gn! reader, lots (and i mean lots) of angst, cursing, let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 1.27k

summary: It’s not always easy being with someone who never lets you in side their head.

a/n: this is the alternative ending to i just want you! i actually like this version better teehee. you don’t have to read the original! this can be read as a stand-alone! if you want however, you can read the original to spot the changes! happy reading!

NOT EDITED

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻

It always seems to rain in movies when something sad happens. It applies to the situation at hand right now.

You and Simon had been together officially for a few months now. After months of ‘i just don’t think it’s time’ or ‘i’m not the relationship type’ Simon finally asked you to be his girlfriend. Of course it was rocky, a story with a sad beginning always ends with a sad ending. You thought it would all eventually work out though. Simon would open up to you about everything he’s been through. He would talk to you about something, anything you didn’t care. The only things you do know are the things his friends have only slightly hinted at.

So when Simon came home in a complete shut off mood (again) it set something off in you. You’ve had enough.

“I can’t do this.” You whisper just enough for him to hear. Simons head moves toward your direction. Your back is turned to him as you stand in the kitchen. He’s sitting with a cup of water in his hands at the dining table.

“What?” Simon asks. His eyes bore into the back of your head almost like he’s trying to telepathically get you to look at him.

With a single tear running down your face you rest one of your hands on your hip. You look up to the ceiling with a sigh escaping your lips.

“You… this… us. I can’t do the whole you shutting me out at every chance you get.” You finally turn to Simon looking into his light eyes.

He’s standing there looking down at you with an unreadable expression. He’s silent and doesn’t say anything for a minute and neither do you. You wait for what feels like hours for him to say something but he simply doesn’t. So you walk away into the living. A few more tears slip from your eyes but your face doesn’t change expression. You aren’t sad you’re more angry than anything.

Simon follows you but keeps his distance. You hear him let out a sigh before finally saying something.

“I can’t lose you.” He says but that only makes you chuckle.

“You can’t lose me? That’s all you have to say?” You turn towards him laughing except there is no joke.

“I’m sorry. This is who I am.” He says walking toward you but you put your hand out to stop him from getting close.

“It doesn’t have to be. You could just talk to me when you come over instead of just shutting me out.” You sigh rubbing your temple and taking a seat on your couch.

Simon takes a seat beside you but still at a distance. His hands clasp in his lap and you look at him through your peripherals.

“I don’t know how to talk about these things. I never learned how. It’s been the one thing I’ve struggled with my entire life.” Simon lets out. He’s twirling his fingers together awkwardly waiting for you to say something.

“I just want to know how your day is when you come over. I want to know your favorite color. I want to know how your friends are doing. I want to know you Simon.” You say looking back into his eyes. You can see his eyes are slightly more wet than usual.

“I-“ Simon begins to say but stops himself. This only makes you more angry. You stand up in front of him and throw your hands up in exhaustion.

“I’m ruining myself trying to be there for you. I’m standing right fucking here begging for you to just let me in to your life but you won’t let me!” Your voice becoming louder than you wanted it to. The anger finally bubbling to the surface. You’ve had enough.

“I don’t know what I’m doing! I’ve never felt this way before. Not with anyone ever. I’m scared you’ll leave just like everyone else!” Simon stands above you yelling back just not as loud as you. His thick accent shining through with every word he threw out.

“I’m don’t want to go anywhere! But you are making it so hard to want to stay! I don’t care about anything except for you. I just want you!” Your eyes begin to betray you. A waterfall of tears cascades down your face as Simon moves to hold you. You shove him away. He doesn’t make an effort to try again which only makes you disappointed for a reason you don’t understand.

You walk away from him with a scoff back to the kitchen. You stand at the sink that’s full of dirty dishes from the meal you shared earlier. You wipe the tears from your face as you hear Simon walk in behind you.

“Tell me what to do. Tell me how to make this better.” Simon says in a low hushed tone. You turn to face him with his unreadable expressions as always. A skill you know your never going to learn. His arms hang beside his torso so sadly it almost makes you want to apologize but you know better. You can’t keep living like this.

“There is no ‘making this better’ Simon. You did this… you’ve ruined what could have been.” You talk calmly compared to your earlier demeanor. It’s almost pathetic the way Simons standing. He’s defeated. He knows what he did and now he’s facing the consequences.

“Please.” He begs. He wonders over to you but you put a hand out to stop him. Your hand on his chest as he looks down at you. Your eyes are swelled with tears begging to fall but you hold your composure. You push him away again. You know you would never normally have to strength to do this. You know he’s walking himself backwards to give you the space you beg for.

“It’s over Simon. We’re over.” You walk away again to the front door of your house. You stand there as Simon meets you at the door. He gives you one last look as you watch him grab his coat and then the door handle. He stops and turns to you with that same unreadable expression.

“Im sorry. Im sorry I couldn’t be what you deserve. Im sorry I stayed silent instead of giving you answers to things you’ve wondered for nearly a year. I’m sorry you felt you had to stay. Im sorry for keeping you out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you needed me to be.” Simon looks deeply into your eyes. His words catching young surprise but the damage has been done. Your heart is broken and no amount of apologies could fix that. You stay silent with teary eyes. Simons hand still in the door knob as he waits for you to say something.

There is no fixing the many months of silence and the future of this love is over. Maybe he could have opened up but that’s not who he is. Maybe he would have tried that to be better. It’s all you wanted him to do but you can’t always fix something that broken.

“I just wanted you.” You finally say. Simon takes the hint of your words realizing this really is the end. He twist the door knob and walks out your home. Out of your life. As soon as you hear the click of the door closing the silence takes over your now empty estate. This silence being sad. The only sound that can be heard is the heavy fall of the rain outside. The silence gets to you faster than you want it to. You collapse to floor with heavy tears cascading down your face and onto your floor.

There is no happy ending for this sad beginning.

༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻༺𖤓༻

final thoughts: this is like a few hundred words shorter but i genuinely love this version sooooo much better. i wrote the original from a situation i had been in personally except my version ended up more like this. obviously its not exactly how mine happened but it’s pretty accurate. finally getting rid of that person in your life that was just absolutely draining everything from you is so freeing. in the moment losing the person you thought was the love of your life is genuinely soul crushing, but time genuinely does heal you. You’ll come to find out that that person was absolutely the worst choice you could have made and the best choice was kicking them the fuck out of your life. I’m yapping over here but i genuinely hope you loved the story :’).

Love ya! Thanks for reading!

also as i’m rereading this to post it… it’s definitely giving off the 1 vibes.