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fudgechocolatepuff · 3 months

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a simple night for us ⋆·˚ ༘ *

1.9k words [7-8 min read.] keigo t. x fem . reader

summary: you wake up from a long nap nearing 10pm. your apartment is a mess, but all you want to do is see your keigo..

mentions: a summerween fluff fic where you and keigo spend time together until the moment you fall asleep together ♡

ping!

you jerked up out of your arms that your head was resting on seconds before, roused out of your deep slumber that was intended to only be a light nap.

you were exhausted to say the least. your bones ached from doing all of your daily activities and chores, yearning to rest once again, but you were already past feeling drowsy and sleepy, now alert and wide awake.

wearily, you attempted to sit up from the couch you’d been napping on but winced, your limbs sore from the awkward position that you had fallen asleep in.

as you readjusted yourself on the cushions, stretching out your arms and popping a few joints, your eyes glanced over your dimly candle-lit living room in search of the loud noise that you swore you heard from your phone…

once you had found your phone tangled within dozens of papers from work in front of you on the coffee table, your warm fingers scooped it up from the mess on the table, hands shifting, fixing themselves to cup your phone within your palms.

the bright glow that emitted from the cellphone made you squint and scrunch your face a bit as your eyes weren’t used to the brightness, and you opted to turn the brightness down on your phone yourself.

your eyes darted to the bottom of your screen to the notification that woke you up in the first place.

——

sent 5 minutes ago.

kei

9:46 p.m.

Hey, are you busy rn? Just got off early from my night patrol.

——

your breath slowed and softened as you realized it was only keigo. oh how you missed his silly cute charming self. poor man was being worked to the bone and he’s had to sacrifice his entire schedule primarily for work, which included spending time with you.

looking up from the glow of your device to scan your living room and kitchen, you cringed at the state it was in, appearing unkempt as you recall you hadn’t been able to even start drying the many dishes left in the sink.

a tired sigh left your lips as the clutter of your apartment would possibly sabotage a night spent with your boyfriend.

then, suddenly, a wave of motivation came over yourself, and you quickly typed back in your messages:

——

you

9:48 p.m

no im not busy rn, can u come over pls? i just want to have an us night. ——

text bubbles popped up seconds after you sent the message.

——

kei

9:48 p.m

Of course, sweets. How about a movie night? I can go to the nearest 7-11 for snacks. I’ll try to be at your place in 30 minutes tops, just gotta close up my office for the night.

——

well damn did he type fast, and DAMN WAS HE GOING TO GET HERE FAST! maybe, just maybe you could have time to clean up the work in front of you, dry the dishes as hurriedly as possible, and take the quickest shower of your life!

immediately, you got to work, clearing the table and stuffing the immense amount of paperwork in your folder and into your bag. ‘25 minutes.. okay. i got this.’

you scrubbed and scrubbed at each bowl and cup frantically, nearly throwing them all in the cabinets as 18 minutes remained.

scattering to the bathroom, you turned on the shower, and cramped your usually-one-hour-shower-routine into one that lasted merely 15 minutes.

lunging for your robe and towel, you run back to your bedroom where you made your bed as neat as it could look, taking a few steps back to do a final inspection of your room to make sure everything seemed right in place and cozy enough for you and keigo.

turning your heel back to the living room, you picked up your phone resting on the sofa and checked to see if keigo had given any update about his whereabouts, to which your eyes lit up at the message he sent:

——

sent 2 minutes ago.

kei

10:20 p.m

I might be a little late, I got caught up in something happening out on the street. I’ll be there in 10, for real this time :)

——

ping!

——

sent just now.

kei

10:22 p.m

Also, batman or hello kitty?

——

okay, that was not a question that you expected, but at least you still had time to dry off and wait for him.

why would he ask you about.. whatever. you responded back:

——

you

10:22 p.m

hello kitty, and its okay dont worry about it <3

——

—————

tap tap tap tap!

the pattern of keigo’s taps on your balcony door were almost silent from your bedroom, but you could never miss it, because it was keigo of course; you knew it was him.

mincing your way to the balcony door, you were greeted with keigo waving at you like a little boy, an infectious smile on his face while holding a number of bags in his right hand stuffed with goods.

sliding the door open, he stepped in, kicking off his boots as he sent some of his feathers to take ahold of the goodies, emerging from his back and snatching the bags to make their way to the kitchen counter.

he took you in his arms and hugged you tight, with a subtle “hey..” whispered in your ear that made you tingle.

your arms slid up his back, careful to not accidentally brush against his wings, as the pads of your fingers reached the back of his neck, holding and brushing through the soft blonde locks at the back of his head.

“i missed you,” you muttered against his shoulder.

“missed ya’ too, sweets. so much.” he replied, engulfing the scent of your shampoo in your hair, his gloved hands rubbing circles on your back.

you didn’t mind taking a few minutes to just be in the moment with keigo. you had missed him so, all you could do was rest on his shoulder and sway with him.

eventually, he pulled away to take off his jacket and gloves as well as the visors sitting on the top of his head. he then took ahold of your hand while he led you into the kitchen.

he grabbed one of the bags placed on the countertop and took out the contents inside. he handed you the softest pj set of hello kitty that you’d ever felt, only it was halloween themed, with witch hats and pumpkins and bats embroidered on the set.

“i thought the bats on yours would match mine,” he explained, gesturing to the set he was holding in his hands. batman pjs.

ohh, so that’s what he meant with that text..

you agreed with him, “i think its adorable, they match so cutely!” smiling at keigo with your eyes beaming up at him, he chuckled to himself, internally cheering himself on as his little plan to match with you worked.

“wait for me in your room. im gonna take a quick shower, then we’ll have the whole night to ourselves, yeah?”

giddy was an understatement for what you felt. you nodded your head as you both headed to your room.

you sat down on your bed while keigo pinched your cheek before entering the bathroom.

—————

“so.. i was thinking about a movie, but honestly i don’t know what to choose.” you admitted to keigo, who had his head rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“how about a halloween movie? it’d match our outfits pretty well, kinda like a little theme, like summerween maybe.”

his suggestion intrigued you. it wasn’t fall yet, but you always loved the idea of a summerween movie night.

“i’d love that actually.”

the two of you settled on the nightmare before christmas to watch, cuddling one another with a blanket wrapped around you two, nice and snug together like two peas in a pod.

[secretly, the two of you always have a debate whether it’s a halloween movie or a christmas movie. you always win every time with halloween.]

although it was ones of your favorites, the movie that you were supposed to be watching was drowned out as you turned to look at keigo.

his sharp irises focused on the screen in front of him, his tusks of blond hair that usually stood upright and slicked back at his forehead were rested upon his eyes, flowing downward as if they were bangs, and they complimented his features so well. every few seconds or so, he would feed himself with a fist full of of popcorn, and you couldn’t help but just stare at him.

you loved when he was so calm, looked so sure that he was safe and didn’t need to have his guard up, he just looked so genuine right now.

you didn’t want him to catch you staring so you zipped your head back to the screen before he could bat an eye at you.

it wasn’t until you turned back to him when you felt something poking at your cheek. when you peeked at him this time, his hand was holding a chocolate covered pretzel to your mouth, waiting for you to take it.

reluctantly, you leaned closer to him, and his hand approached your face even closer just as you bit off a piece, flinching almost when his thick fingers grazed your lips.

swallowing down your own flusterdness, all you wanted was to pretend nothing happened, and you decided on fiddling with the blanket to help ease the embarrassment.

keigo on the other hand was on the brink of bursting with laughter. the way you stiffened to his touch was so adorable to him, he just wanted to tease you even more.

however he was a gentlemen, and he didn’t want to overwhelm you further, so he just left it at that, a proud smirk remaining on his face.

—————-

wrappers were littered on both of your nightstands along with empty popcorn bags that were long forgotten on the floor that you’d soon have to sweep up when you had the will.

twinkling orange-hued fairy lights remained lit capturing the halloween ambiance as the movie began to reach its end.

your mouth opened wide in a yawn , eyelids growing heavy and you started to feel sleepy again.

gazing up at your boyfriend from his chest, you noticed that he also was struggling to keep awake. he blinked serenely, a frog-like blink at that, and his chest that you were using as a pillow rose and fell gently, slower and slower as midnight approached.

keigo still felt you looking up at him, and so he tilted his head down and kissed at the crown of your head.

“maybe we should get some rest. you need your beauty sleep, sweets.”

his voice has coated with honey as he said it, laced with chocolate kisses as he sounded so sweet and soft but definitely ready to hit the z’s.

“m’kay.. should i try’ta pick up some of the-”

“no no, ‘s alright, i got it for you. just rest that pretty head of yours on those pillows, i’ll take care of everything.” he shushed you, cradling your jaw in his large hand as his feathers scattered, cleaning up your room, not missing a speck of trash.

these were the best nights you could ever spend with keigo. the ones that mattered to you most were the quaint and simple ones. it wasn’t easy to catch him every night, which was why you cherished these nights in your heart, wishing that they would never end.

the fairy lights flicked off, leaving you unable to see your winged companion. it was okay though, the warmth radiating from his body was enough to lull you to sleep.

his strong arms snaked around your waist in a protective embrace, not planning to let go anytime soon.

“g’night..” you slurred, “love you..”

he pecked your cheek.

“night.. love you most, doll. sweet dreams. ” ღ

a/n: i 1000000% love summerween its now my new obsession. i wish i could do everything with this man 😞 ik the pjs that i chose to pair didn’t rlly make sense but it was all i could think of 😭 💗ty 4 reading and see u next time byebye !

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ahhhwomen · 1 year

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Not A Toy?

Trigger Happy AU

Part 3

Pairing: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

A/N: Ik ik, everything has been written in very excruciating detail so far, this one being no exception, but I promise I'm going to up the speed and intensity very soon. Also, I am sorry if this one is a bit rushed, I just wanted to get it out there. Def not my favorite chapter...

Disclaimer: English is not my first language; all mistakes are my own.

AU Warnings: Kidnapping, murder, Mommy kink, smut, pet play, death (not main characters), framed murder, violence, drugging, angst, obsession, dub-con/rape-con | Minors DNI 18+

Warnings Part 3: Mommy kink, stalker Wanda, kidnapping (?), slightly stupid reader

Summary: Maybe you are more to Wanda than just a Toy.

Word Count: 1157

Your apartment had never been the best. When you moved in, months prior, that much became apparent. It was filthy, small, and there were large gaps between some of the floorboards. However, money was tight after you were cut off from your family, and the neighborhood wasn’t the worst. So, you took what you could.

You had lived there for all of 2 weeks before you got a roommate. In those 2 weeks, you tried to make it more pleasant and feel more like home. You got a carpet to hide the large gaps, you moved the furniture to make it feel like more space, and you deep cleaned.

As you came to learn, Jessica didn’t care much for that sort of stuff. Between college, working a part-time job, having a boyfriend, and loving parties, Jessica was barely even there. She had never bothered to do much around the apartment, she never cleaned, and never took any interest in changing things around.

It's therefore safe to say you are a bit confused as you take in the scene in front of you.

Why is your coach upside down?

You have no clue how you didn’t see it until now. It wasn’t like you, you had always praised yourself on your observation skills.

That damn policewoman was doing a number on you.

You are just about to pull your phone out when you hear a creak, another issue with the floorboards. The sound came from Jessica's room.

Your apartment has felt off ever since you came home, but now it feels like you are somewhere else entirely. Suddenly everything was colder, and your skin prickles with chills.

Your feet slowly inch closer to Jessica's door, trying to stay silent, and your hands push gently on the handle. Sweat runs down your back and you hold your breath, the tension is heavy in the air. With the handle down, you being to put a slight weight into the door. The door creaks open to reveal….

Nothing.

Your eyes scan the room, everything the same as when you left this morning. You let out a shaky breath, relieved, you close the door again.

You remind yourself to send a quick text to your roommate about the furniture rearrangement before you walk back to the bathroom.

///////

Wanda bites back a groan as the door presses lightly against her. She can hear your hands shaking against the handle.

She had meant to get out before you came home, but you turn out to be a fast walker.

After her work was done for the day Wanda had spent a substantial amount of time tracking this roommate of yours. She was a busy girl. She worked at a local diner most of the week but had Mondays and Wednesdays off. She hung out with her boyfriend, that lived 2 blocks away, almost every day. She took a liking to people, always having to be around someone. She seemed to be your complete opposite.

By what intel Wanda gathered, you were a quiet girl, who liked to keep to yourself. You were sweet and always willing to help, but large groups of people made you uncomfortable.

You were perfect. Well-mannered, sweet, lonely. A good girl.

Hers.

Wanda is good at hiding her less savory side. Obsessive behavior never looked good on paper. She had only ever allowed herself to indulge in smaller doses. However, Wanda couldn’t just fuck this urge out with a random pretty girl she picked up like she was used to.

No.

Wanda needed you.

She needs to have you, nurse you, fuck you. She needs to hold you, have you wrapped around her like the little kitten you are. Hers, and only hers.

She just needed to push you a little.

So, she did what anyone would do, and began staging her crime scene.

Your apartment wasn’t exactly big, so how would a big fight play out in such a small space? Wanda was testing your living room when she heard your keys jingle in the hallway.

“I’m home!”

Wanda smiled a little.

You must have been so sleepy. There was a little crack in the door Wanda could look at you through, and you walked right passed the flipped coach and started getting your dinner ready. Wanda had to hold back a disapproving sigh as you picked up a microwavable dinner.

You were a growing girl who requires proper sustenance. Not, whatever was in those plastic tubs.

As the timer on the microwave counted down, you looked lost in thought. Wanda wondered what you were thinking about as your teeth sank into your lip, your scrunched-up nose indicating you were worried. Wanda's hands griped the door, if something was bothering her girl, it bothered Wanda.

Luckily you snapped out of it rather fast and got to eating.

You occur to be quite the messy eater. It was adorable the way you would huff in annoyance as the table became smothered in your mess.

Wanda made a mental note to always feed you on a mat. She didn’t want her floors to be stained like your table was.

You stood up.

Wanda couldn’t get a proper view of the bathroom from where she stood. She had intended on moving just a little bit to the left when her foot hit a loose tile.

Shit!

Wanda could hear you try to sneak over to the door, and she saw the handle slowly move downwards. If she made even the tiniest of noises Wanda knew the gig would be over. She pressed herself into the wall and held her breath.

You paused for a second when the door was almost all the way open. Wanda could hear you sigh. Then close the door again.

You make your way back to the bathroom.

Wanda stands there baffled for a second before sneaking out when she picks up the water running.

Who doesn’t open the door all the way when they think an intruder is in the house?

You just have to be happy it was only Wanda.

///////

“SOMEONE PLEASE!” The filth sobs as her voice echoes back to her.

Wanda smirks.

Don’t worry, it will all be over very soon.

#mommy!wanda #dark!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #ahhhwomen

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btsficsandsuch · 1 year

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hello! if your request is still open can i request one for yoongi or jin about clumsy reader like she often get hurt like walking into a wall, burnt her hand while cooking, etc? and eventually hurt herself really bad & jin/yoongi took care of reader? just very fluffy fics please🥺

thank you in advance! i've been on bed rest for a days now bcs i broke my ankle and been reading your fics to stay sane i hope you keep writing i love your works💗

Sorry this took so long. I hope you’re feeling better by now!

I Heart Yoongi

“I can’t believe this.”, you mumbled to yourself as you waited for the doctor to come back and wrap your arm in a cast. You were currently sitting in the emergency room with your best friend after tripping over your own shoe and falling down a flight of stairs breaking your arm. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Yoongi? He’s going to be really upset when he finds out you called me and not him.”, your friend asked. Nodding your head you replied, “Yeah he has a busy day today and if he knows I’m here the he’ll skip his entire schedule to be here. He’s always taking care of me and I don’t want him to get in trouble for me.”

Your thoughts traveled back to all the times your boyfriend Yoongi had taken care of you after you clumsily hurt yourself. Just last Monday you burned your hand while making you both breakfast. Somehow you knocked the pan off of the stove and instead of letting it drop on the floor and loosing your pancakes you thought it would be a good idea to try and grab the pan but you instantly regretted it when you felt the stinging pain in your fingers. Yoongi had helped you put burn gel and bandages on your fingers and then even cleaned up the mess you had made before making another batch of pancakes.

Then on Wednesday you thought you’d surprise him by bringing him a drink and some snacks to his studio. You had a cute serving tray that you filled with a glass of water, some snacks that you put in these cute little glass bowls, you made a sandwich that you put on a plate in case he was extra hungry, you also gave him a glass of his favorite whiskey as a treat, and then even though it was cheesy you topped it off with a single rose that you put in a little glass vase. Looking back all that glass was probably a bad idea for someone as clumsy as you but at the time you were trying to be cute. Standing in front of his studio door you were trying to find a way to knock while balancing the heavy tray. You took your hand out from under the tray and knocked three times before quickly putting it back but it was too late. The vase started to sway and toppled over which made the glass of water fall and ruined the food and next thing you know the entire tray fell to the ground with a crash and glass shattering everywhere. In your panic you were trying to clean up hoping maybe Yoongi didn’t hear anything and managed to step on a piece of glass cutting your foot. Cursing yourself you went to walk to the bathroom to find a bandaid but you were stopped when you felt a hand around your wrist and you turned to see Yoongi. Silently he walked you to the bathroom and had you sit down on the tub while checking your foot to make sure there wasn’t any glass stuck before cleaning you up and placing a bandage over the cut. Then he cleaned up your mess even chuckling when he saw the rose. After sulking for a little you walked out into the kitchen just as he was finishing up and he walked over placing a sandwich down for you and bringing one over for himself so the two of you could sit and eat together.

Finally on Friday you had decided to do a deep clean of the apartment. You were down on your hands and knees scrubbing the inside of one of the kitchen cabinets when you heard Yoongi walk in the kitchen. Excitedly you tried to quickly stand up not realizing just how far in the cabinet you were and with a loud thud you hit the back of your head on the top of the cabinet. Yoongi quickly ran over and pulled you into his arms and rubbed the back of your head. He sat your down on the couch before returning to the kitchen to finish up the cleaning job and put everything back in its place all while checking on you every few minutes to make sure you didn’t have a serious head injury or anything.

That brings you to today. You were trying to bring a load of laundry down the stairs and tripped on your bunny slipper (Yoongi always told you that they were a death trap for someone like you but they were so cute) and you went tumbling down the stairs. When you came to a stop you checked to see if you had any injuries and that’s when you felt the sharp pain in your arm and called your friend and ended up in the emergency room.

Thankfully the doctor finally walked back in, “Alright Miss Y/N. What color cast did you want? We have blue, green, red, purple, pink, and just plain white?” “Umm purple I guess.”, you responded without any enthusiasm. The doctor must’ve done this a thousand times because it didn’t take long at all and before you know it he was giving you the discharge instructions, “Keep the cast dry. Try not to over exert yourself. You’ll want to follow up with your doctor in six week to see about removing the cast. Also you’re probably going to have some pain so I’m giving you a prescription for some pain medicine. You can get it filled today at the pharmacy on the second floor.” You nodded and took the paper work before carefully stepping down off the table.

You were walking down the hall following the directions to the pharmacy but when you turned the corner you saw a familiar mop of black hair spilling out of a beanie and a black jean jacket. Turning to your friend you whined, “You seriously called him? I told you not to.” Your friend put her hands up in defense, “He kept texting me asking why you weren’t responding to his texts. I ran out of believable lies.” You then remembered how you had left your phone at home in a panic. Yoongi noticed you walking down the hall and immediately ran up to you carefully wrapping you in a hug. His eyes went wide when he saw the light purple cast on your arm before he gently lifted it up to inspect it. “Thank you for taking care of her. I can take it from here.”, he smiled at your friend. You thanked her as well and watched her walk off towards the exit.

Yoongi took the discharge papers and started reading over everything that the doctor had told you. Not that he didn’t trust you but he wanted to make sure he also knew everything that needed to be done. Without even speaking he took your non broken arm in his hand and began walking you towards the pharmacy handing the clerk your prescription and then taking a seat next to you, “Why didn’t you call me Y/N? I’ve been worried sick all day. First you didn’t respond to any of my texts and then I find out from your friend that you’re at the emergency room.” “I knew you’d come here and I didn’t want that.”, you replied. He scoffed, “And that would be so bad? Sorry I want to be informed when something happens to you.” You were exhausted and in pain and we’re starting to feel guilty for not only not calling Yoongi but now he was missing important meetings and whatnot and he was also mad at you and it all became too much. You began to sniffle, “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry. I knew you had a busy day and I didn’t want you to get in trouble for leaving. Of course I want you here but I didn’t tell you for your sake. You’re always taking care of me because I’m so clumsy and I jus-“. Yoongi leaned over and placed a kiss on your lips to shut you up. Then he wiped away some of your left over tears, “I’m not mad Y/N. I just got scared that you were in the hospital and I didn’t know why. You are always going to be more important to me than any schedule and I’m always going to be here to take care of you.” Feeling a little better you smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. “I swear Y/N, I’m gonna wrap you in bubble wrap and then put you in one of those giant bubble things. I don’t think my heart can handle a life time of this.”, he chuckled and you giggled along with him.

The clerk called your name and Yoongi walked you up to retrieve your medicine and the two of you made your way to his car. After stopping to get some food you were glad to finally be back home. Yoongi was Yoongi and didn’t let you get a minute alone. Carefully he helped you undress and then wrapped your cast in plastic so you could shower. Since he knew you too well and he knew being one arm down would only make you clumsier he stood by the shower and helped you shampoo and condition your hair and he made sure you didn’t slip. After the shower he helped you get dressed and gave you another dose of your pain medicine and after following his nighttime routine he got in bed next to you pulling you close so you both could get some sleep after and exhausting day.

The following morning you woke up and looked over at your nightstand finding your pain medicine, a chocolate chip muffin with some strawberries, a glass of orange juice, and a note,

“I had to go to the company to catch up on some things I missed yesterday. When you get up take another pain pill but you can’t take it on an empty stomach so make sure you eat. I’ll be home around 3pm. Please just rest and don’t get any more hurt. I love you.”

You smiled as you took a bite of the muffin and that’s when you looked down at your cast and noticed some writing. You chuckled thinking about how at some point last night Yoongi must’ve doodled on your cast. Taking another bite of the muffin you smiled staring down at the picture of two cats sitting next to each other. One with a cast on their arm and wearing a ‘I heart Yoongi’ shirt and the other wearing a beanie and a basketball jersey. Slowly you got out of bed and as carefully as possible you carried the rest of your breakfast out to the living room to wait for Yoongi to return so you could thank him again.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts yoongi #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #suga

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writinghotchner · 1 year

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the infinite amount of times you saved yourself, and the one time you didn't have to

Pairing: aaron hotchner/reader Rating: M (sfw) Warning: talks of self harm & depression (nothing too descriptive)

----

i really don't know why this came into my brain, but i couldn't shake it so...here we go. please mind the warnings and take care of yourselves <3

----

you have a small moment of wanting to relapse after being clean for so long and aaron finds you in the bathroom

you've dealt with self harm since you could remember. it started with hitting yourself as a child and then progressed into scratching, and then eventually when you got a little older, you got your hands on a pack of brand new razor blades. and then it became a problem. it stemmed from lack of control, a therapist once told you, so any time you felt like you were in a situation you couldn't control - or felt the need to control - you'd immediately take it out on yourself. the only thing you could control was the pain. and, as sad as it is, it always made you feel better. it stopped the spiraling and the crying and the heaving of breathe that you could never fully suck into your lungs.

you're not entirely sure how you got here in this moment. in your underwear and bra on the bathroom floor of the apartment you share with your boyfriend. he works for the fbi, travels a lot, never really seems to be home...but it still works. you've never been in such a healthy, loving relationship before, despite the distance. so maybe that's why you feel the tinge of guilt sitting on top of the unbearable sadness that rumbles in your chest like a brewing hurricane.

you're happy. for maybe the first time in your life. you have a great, albeit, stressful job, a handful of good friends and you're potentially with the love of your life...so...how did you get here? on the floor of the bathroom in the apartment that you share with your boyfriend. who is, unfortunately, or fortunately, still at work. he wasn't out of town, thankfully, but his attention was still needed in quantico. he could potentially show up at any moment. and that sends a bizarre lightening strike of adrenaline down your spine. if you're going to do it, now's the time. before he comes home and sees the mess you've made, yet again, and leaves. like almost everyone else has done before.

you know this is a pattern. you'd been stuck in a depression vortex for most of your life, so when good things start happening your brain immediately throws you ten steps backwards, and you wind up like that scared, lonely teenager, clutching something sharp and willing yourself to either do it...or don't.

you'd never really been good with talking yourself out of it. and now is no different. you can do it, and hide it for as long as you can. put on the facade that everything is and has always been great. and then he'll see the fresh marks, and you'll immediately fall back into being that scared, lonely child begging people to not leave you.

you'd done this so many times that it's almost comical that you keep hoping that this is the one time you can talk yourself out of it. but then, what else can you brag about, if not that your are your own hero. always the one to save yourself. not that anyone's ever really stuck around long enough to even try to be the hero.

but still, you picture aaron charging through the bathroom door, his short hair suddenly long and flowing in some magical wind and lifting you into his big, strong arms and hauling you off to some beautiful place where you can breathe.

you close your eyes and sigh. your legs are starting to go numb from how your sitting on the tile floor. now or never the pathetic little voice floats around your brain.

you take a deep breath, straighten out your left arm and grip the razor blade tighter....

just as your about to zip the blade through your flesh, you hear the front door open and then close. you hear aaron shuffling around calling out for you.

"honey?" he says loudly, walking into the bedroom, where the bathroom your in is attached to.

for some reason, that's what breaks you. you let the blade fall out of your hand and choke on a sob that has been threatening to come out since you got home.

you can hear him on the other side of the door, jiggling the handle. "honey, are you in here?" the door is locked and you don't know if you have it in you to get up and let him in. funnily enough, you're not sure you want him to come him - despite the little hero fantasy you had moments ago.

you suck in a deep breath and you try to calm your voice. "hey, yeah, i'll be out in a second. just getting out of the shower."

you wince at your lie and you can immediately tell that he doesn't believe you. he's a professionally trained human reader, of course he was going to see right through that. maybe you kinda wanted him to.

"sweetheart," he says softly. "i can hear it in your voice. please open the door."

your lip quivers as this unknown fear settles deep inside of you. you've never been so scared of someone seeing this side of you.

another sob escapes you before you even realize it was there, and you know it was loud enough for him to hear. he doesn't wait for you to open the door, instead he throws the side of his hip into it and it cracks open, a piece of small metal clanking around on the ground from the handle.

you can't even look up at him. you've crumbled in on yourself, legs crossed and elbows on your thighs, head in your hands as you finally just let it all out.

"hey," he says softly, and you can suddenly feel his big warm hand on your bare back. "are you hurt? what's going on?"

he moves his hand off your back and puts it softly around your wrist, pulling it away from your face. he uses his other hand to turn your face to him, his eyes immediately scanning for any blood or wounds.

"y/n, i need you to say something, i'm thinking the worst here," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours. the hand that he used to move your face is now cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away the falling tears.

you still don't say anything, if anything the embarrassment of it all has your tongue. so instead you sit up and fall into his chest where he immediately circles his arms around your shoulders, hugging you to him securely. your heart thuds in your chest as you realize at this position, he can see the fallen razor blade that was to the side of you, hidden by your legs before. you know he's going to see it, he sees everything.

sure enough, you can tell when he spots it. because he pushes your body way from him his, just far enough to where he can look down at your entire body, looking for any signs of blood or bandaging.

"i didn't-" you rasp out. he runs his hands up your arms and uses both hands to cup your cheeks. you can't place the expression on his face, but you know it isn't good. it's never good to make someone you love so much worry so much about you. you feel stupid and even more embarrassed now. a vicious cycle.

"were you going to?" he asks. the concern in his voice loud enough to knock you over.

more tears fall, you want to curl in on yourself and hide away under the rug, but he doesn't let you move your head.

"i think so."

"honey.." his voice is so sad and so concerned. it breaks you even more. you fall back into his chest and he lets you, his arms once again coming around to hug you to him.

"is this something you've done before?"

you take in a deep breath. being in his arms like this always makes you feel better, and the fact that he can't see your face right now makes this conversation a tiny bit easier.

"since i was a kid," you blow out a steady stream of air, willing the hurricane in your chest to go with it. "i stopped for a long time. it felt kinda childish to keep doing it well into adulthood, so i replaced it with other things...." you trail off and he squeezes you tighter and kisses your shoulder.

"and then, y'know, you get older, you get a job, you learn how to distract your brain from the self destructive cycle. but i think i locked the beast away for too long, because tonight i just...couldn't..."

you feel him take in a deep breath. he pulls away from you and runs his hands down your arms and holds your hands.

"i'm glad you didn't. is there anything i can do to help? can we maybe make a plan for the future so it doesn't come down to this again?"

you nod. "i've...never had anyone offer that before. most people just...leave."

he pulls you into a small, soft kiss. his hands are back on your cheeks, and he pushes your hair out of your face. "it'll take a lot more than this to make me leave, honey. we can get through this together. whatever you need."

and for the first time in your entire life, you didn't care about having bragging rights to being your own savior. for once, you can't wait to tell someone how you met the love of your life and how he stood by your side and helped you through the unimaginable. and never gave up on you.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #*mine #*reader #*hotch x reader #the infinite amount of times you saved yourself and the one time you didn't have to

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mando-fando · 1 year

Text

Miguel O’Hara Being a Caretaker Drabble

Idk I got this idea earlier!

Tw: mentions of depression

You’d snoozed your alarm too many times to count. By the time your heavy lids slowly opened, the sun was high in the sky.

That familiar ache settled deep in your bowels as you stared up at the ceiling. The feeling that everything was simply too much. Your limbs felt like they were being encased by 10 tons of cement. You slowly turned on your side in your bed as you thought of the many things you’d wanted to accomplish today. Regret and shame filled you as you began to accept that nothing would be getting done. You’d be lucky to get out of bed at all.

You can’t recall when these moods began to overtake your life. They were unpredictable and all encompassing, ruining your plans, your productivity, and your self worth in one fell swoop.

You heard clinking in your kitchen, and furrowed your brow.

“Hello?” You called out nervously.

Your boyfriend, Miguel, walked over and stood in the entryway of your bedroom door with a smile. “Hey, sleepyhead,”

Your relationship was still fresh. Barely out of the honeymoon stage. You’d just given each other keys to your respective apartments as a sign of commitment.

You had casually mentioned your bouts of depression to Miguel, but you’d never told him how severe it was.

A panicked thought rushed through your foggy mind: your apartment was a horrendous mess.

You gasped as you looked around your room. Clothes were strewn around, and you pictured the pile of dishes sitting in the sink.

“I brought you some coffee, but you seemed pretty tired.” Miguel said as he walked over and sat on the edge of your bed.

Your cheeks were bright pink from embarrassment. He was sure to break up with you now that he knew what a catastrophic nightmare your life was.

“Thank you… you didn’t have to do that,” you said sheepishly.

“I also cleaned up a little. I hope that’s okay,” He reached up and tucked a strand of your unwashed hair behind your ear.

You felt like shriveling up and dying as you suddenly became aware of your day old makeup smeared across your face. The idea of showering the night before was overwhelming.

“Oh my god,” you put your head in your hands, desperate for him to stop looking at you. “You probably think I’m disgusting.” You mumbled.

“Hey, look at me,” Miguel said gently as he brought a finger under your chin.

“You’re not disgusting. You’re just having a bad day,” he smiled. “Let me help you. Please.”

He seemed so sincere. Your heart fluttered at his tenderness. “…Okay.” You said apprehensively.

You were so tired. Exhausted, despite just waking up. There was no explanation.

“So…it gets kind of bad sometimes.” You began to explain.

“It’s okay, that’s what I’m here for. Are you hungry?” He said gently.

You shook your head. “Maybe later.”

“Do you want to take a shower? Or I could give you a bath?”

You felt so small, but not in a belittled way. You felt cared for. “A bath would be nice.”

Not long after, you found yourself sitting in a perfectly warm bubble bath as Miguel knelt next to you. He’d washed your hair for you, and you were already starting to feel much better.

“Lean forward, please,” he gently tapped your shoulder. You obliged. He began running the sudsy washcloth along your back, rubbing in small circles.

He followed along your shoulders to each arm, and he’d finally finished cleaning your entire body slowly and lovingly.

“Thank you,” You said quietly. He smiled at you.

“You’re welcome. Do you want to sit here for a bit, or are you ready to get out?”

“I’d like to stay in here for awhile. The water is nice,”

“I’m going to order something for dinner. If you need anything, just call for me,” he gave you a gentle kiss on the cheek and stood up.

What had you done to deserve someone so kind? You didn’t know, but you promised yourself to cherish him.

When your fingers began to prune, you pulled the drain plug in your bathtub and quickly rinsed off in the shower.

You wrapped a towel around yourself and walked into your bedroom to find a clean set of loungewear waiting for you.

After toweling off your hair, you pulled the clothes over your damp body and went to go find Miguel.

He was sitting on your couch, scrolling through a list of movies. When he saw you walk into the room, he smiled.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked as he patted the spot next to him on the couch.

“Better,” you said with a small smile as you sat next to him.

“Pizza is on the way. Should be here soon, I think.” He pulled out his phone to check the status of the order.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You placed a hand on his arm.

“I know. But I wanted to.” He said reassuringly.

You ended the evening laying on his chest as he gently caressed your back.

The overwhelming ache in your belly wouldn’t cease for awhile, but it was dampened by the love and affection of your boyfriend.

#tw depression #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv

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ebongawk · 8 months

Text

WIP Whenever

tysm @justhere4thevibez for the tag!!

Okay I have way too many WIPs to do snippets from them all but the two main ones I'm working on are:

the time travel AU:

“Eddie?” Whether it was the sound of his name or the weight of his gaze that grabbed her attention, Chrissy glanced up. Taken aback, blinking in surprise, Chrissy looked toward her boyfriend briefly before her eyes met his again. Catching him in the act of openly staring, and Eddie knew he was being a creep. But he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t breathe. She was even wearing her fucking cheer uniform. She’s gonna die soon. But she’s alive right now. And she was looking right at him. “Eddie, man, you good?” A sudden pat to his shoulder snapped the moment clean in half, yanking his attention away from her endlessly sad eyes. Eyes that no one else seemed to notice. Heaving in a great breath, Eddie felt his entire body go numb, looking away from Chrissy Cunningham. Putting her back in his periphery, where she’d lived for so many years before that fateful March day, as he caught Henderson’s concerned expression. Sinclair and Wheeler were also staring at him like he’d lost his marbles, unapologetically staring at the basketball captain’s girlfriend. “I-I––” he started, taking a half-step back. “You good?” Dustin asked again, hesitance coloring his tone in blue worry. “You look like you just saw a ghost.” I did. She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die, and it’s all my fucking fault.

AND the cuckolding AU:

“You haven’t even ordered yet.” Hesitating, Chrissy let out a slow, deep breath, eyes still tracing the granules of wood beneath her fingertips. They glanced up, washing over the mass of glass bottles lined up in neat little rows, silently picking apart the labels and trying to assuage which one would be safest. Least caloric. Trying to maintain appearances, or something. Trying to pretend her lie of a relationship hadn’t just imploded, and she needed to remain pleasant and small to keep Jason interested. As her mother told her, all through high school. Even if all she wanted was a Sex on the Beach. “Um. A vodka tonic, please?” The bartender scoffed. He scoffed. “Princess, listen,” he said, leaning so his own elbows were propped on the bar just inches from hers. “You really want a vodka tonic? I’ll make you the best goddamn vodka tonic you’ve ever had in your life. But if you’re gonna keep eye-fucking my peach schnapps like it’s a four course meal, I’m gonna end up charging you for it.” “Oh, my God.” She was laughing so hard her stomach had started to hurt. “It’s a dollar a shot, you dig?” “Listen, Mr. Barkeep––” “Eddie,” he interrupted to introduce himself. “I am not eye-fucking your peach schnapps,” she cried around the humor in her throat. God, it tasted so good. Almost as good as a Sex on the Beach. “I didn’t even think bartenders could talk like that! What happened to customer service?” “Alright, princess––” “Chrissy.” “Maybe the bartenders don’t talk like that at the royal castle in the sky that you obviously floated down from,” he grinned to show her he was still joking, “but this is my bar, and I can say eye-fucking all I want.”

(completely different vibes of stories lmao)

I'm tagging anyone who wants to participate!

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #my writing #chrissy cunningham #hellcheer snippets #wip whenever

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bettsfic · 10 months

Note

hi betts!

do you have any advice/thoughts on writing about hoarding? especially, about being the child of hoarders?

with thanks,

from a writer researching the topic for their fic :))

as i am a child of hoarders, i feel uniquely qualified to answer this.

if you were to describe a minimalist's apartment, you would have no choice but to mention what items are in it. those are objects that define the character who lives in that apartment. what things do they choose to keep? a house plant, maybe. a zero gravity chair. a couple candles. a macbook charging on a desk. maybe in your mind's eye you see big windows and pale beiges and ikea furniture.

people in hoarder houses still live in those houses, which means there have to be spaces for that living to happen. one stove burner is cleared off. maybe one kitchen table chair and a small placemat. there's a clear line from a recliner to the television. a path from the recliner to the bedroom, and maybe it's a narrow, difficult path, but a body can fit through it. maybe the bathroom is totally clean but if you open the back door, the garage is completely full. you can't even reach your hand in to feel on the wall for a light switch. and if you could, you couldn't see the light.

so in a minimalist's living space, you describe what's there. in a hoarder's living space, you describe what's not.

a minimalist holds an object and thinks, "i don't need this. i can get rid of it." a hoarder holds an object and thinks, "i don't need this. but i might." hoarding often comes from deep set financial insecurity, the fear that if you get rid of something, you will never be able to obtain it again. those little plastic things that keep the pizza box from crushing the pizza? they make good doll chairs. maybe one day you'll know a little kid who will need a doll chair, and when that happens, you'll be ready.

the child of a hoarder may not grow up with the same financial insecurity, but they do grow up with spatial insecurity, which often lends itself later in life to control issues. it's not as simple as hoarder children growing up to be minimalists (although they might), but hoarder children growing up to be hypervigilant toward objects, their worth, and the space they take up. they may also be hypervigilant of themselves and other peoples' perception of them, and develop an unhealthily high self-monitor. they may become compulsive buyers. they may develop obsessions with a certain type of item of extremely high quality. for example, a child of a hoarder may have a collection of louboutins.

no matter what direction they've taken though, they will have an unhealthy relationship with the ownership and placement of things. at least, they will until they reckon with it.

what follows is a personal anecdote so i'm putting it under a cut.

here's an example from my life:

when i was born, my parents lived in a pretty big house in a terrible part of town. that house was full but not overwhelming. when my sister was about to start school, they decided that they wanted to move to a nicer neighborhood, but all they could afford was a small apartment. and so they brought a house worth of stuff and shoved it in an apartment. my father was a compulsive buyer; my mother is a hoarder. so my dad would buy stuff and my mom wouldn't be able to get rid of it, and neither of them knew how to organize an entire house of stuff in a small apartment.

ten years later, we rented a house out in the country that could fit all our stuff (and oh boy is that a story). but from ages 3 to 13, i lived in a cramped, uncomfortable space.

fast forward twenty years. my sister and i are in our 30s. my sister wears designer clothes, takes spin classes, has a huge apartment and a nice boyfriend and two cats. she works a very high paying job and is also a local celebrity. her apartment is clean. but once when i was catsitting for her, i was looking for something and opened a closet and its contents nearly toppled out onto me. i opened another closet and the same thing happened.

i am the opposite in nearly every way. to list it all out would be very depressing, but let's just say if you were to ask me what my greatest indulgence is, like the fanciest thing i let myself buy, i would tell you orange juice. not even fancy orange juice. just regular generic brand OJ.

my living space is a mess, but it's organized. people are used to organized meaning clean. yes, my things are out and scattered around, but it's only because i haven't put them away. you could point to any object in my room and i could tell you where it belongs. i know where everything is and where everything goes, and cleaning is the process of putting things in the spaces i've already carved for them. my closet is meticulous.

my sister has grown up to become clean and bougie; i've grown up to become messy and frugal. my sister has no problem getting rid of things, but she likes to buy them; i struggle to get rid of things, but i rarely buy them. and i don't think either of us would have come to these extremes if we'd had a tidier living space growing up.

#writing advice #setting

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pidge-it-up-archive · 1 year

Text

i won't do the dance (but we can dance together)

[Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers - 2,559k words - read on AO3]

“Oh, excuse me. Sorry, I must- Oh, please be careful, sir, I’ve kept this coat in pristine condition until now, I- Oh, my.” The angel sighed in defeat. Of course, no demon would ever care about how clean his suit have been for years, or would ever do the kindness of stepping aside so he could get around easier.

Aziraphale really couldn’t blame them. He too would be grumpy if he were to live under these situations. The smell was awful, in a way no human or divine language could describe. And it was hot, but not just “temperature” hot. More like the train on a hot day with no air conditioning or windows, during rush hour, full of constructor workers who haven’t showered in forever, millennia after millennia.

The first, and only, time he was here, his mind was somewhere else entirely. He was so focused on not ruining things, on following the plan, and not being discovered that everything else faded from existence. But now he was an outsider and incredibly lost, so everything was overwhelming.

For half a second, Aziraphale thought about taking a deep breath to calm himself down — a habit he had developed after so many years living within humans, even if oxygen was unnecessary for him — but was able to stop himself by the miracle act of “thinking things through”. He settled for only counting to 7 in his mind. He got this.

He walked through the crowded corridor for… he doesn’t know how long, honestly. Time in Hell is substantially different from time in Heaven or Earth. Felt like a lot, though. Too much.

But then, finally, he reached a more open (not less crowded) space, a bigger hall that led to multiple directions. “Oh, bugger. Maybe this is a terrible idea. He couldn’t be… He wouldn’t be-”

“Angel.”

Aziraphale shuddered. How wrong it was coming out of anyone’s but his mouth. He turned around. “Hello, yes?”

“You are an angel. You are not supposed to be here” The demon was a few inches shorter than Aziraphale, skin pale like an albino lizard.

Aziraphale smiled politely. “Yes, I’m highly aware of that.”

“How did you get here?”

“You see, it was actually quite easy, I always thought it would be harder. All I had to do was take the elevator down, and it led straight here. A huge security breach, if you ask me. For both our sides.”

“Right, yeah, sure. What do you want?”

“Oh, right!” Aziraphale shifted his weight from one foot to the other, “I-”

“He’s probably looking for his boyfriend.” A voice came from behind him. Aziraphale had to give his all to now roll his eyes to the back of his head as he turned once more to face another demon, one familiar this time.

“I- I wouldn’t put it like that. He’s not-”

“Heh, of course you wouldn’t. Neither would he, I believe.” Furfur grinned, the two tips of his tongue flaring out for a second. “Hello, Aziraphill.”

The angel’s jaw locked. He didn’t like the demon’s tone. “For the last time, it’s Azirap-”

“Don’t care. So, was I right?” Furfur rounded him with a mocking interest. “Are you here for you dear, well, ex?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, too angry to even care about the foul odor that made his eyes sting. He had to, or all his angelicness would go down the drain as soon as he closed his fist. “Is Crowley here?”

“What if he is?”

“Is he, or not?” The angel’s tone came out harsh, and as he spoke, a tiny eye opened with an incandescent blue iris staring down the demon, right below his right eye. It blinked, and it was gone just as fast. But Furfur saw the rage it held.

“Y- Yes. He is.”

“Take me to him.”

The demon grimaced. “Follow me.”

As the demon turned away, Aziraphale deflated. So Crowley is here, after all. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

For years, he had followed Crowley's steps from Heaven, looking after him the best way he could. And god, was it hard. Maybe the hardest thing he had done in ages. Because in the first few years they were apart, Crowley slept. He got his apartment back and as soon as it was all back into place, he got under the covers and slept.

It broke Aziraphale to see it happening. It broke him when he would check on him and he had tears accumulated at the corner of his eyes. But there was nothing he could do. Both have chosen their path, and Aziraphate wasn't going to back down on his decision. He couldn't, not when he knew what was at stake.

So he settled for this torturing "routine" for 3 years. He would do his work and then, once a month (or a week) (or day, depending on how anxious he was feeling), he would check on Crowley.

But then, one day, when he tuned in to check on Crowley, he was gone. He then tried the bookshop, then the park, then the Ritz, then TaddfieId, then everywhere they had the tiniest history together, then the stars. He even went as far as to check a few zoos for a particular black snake. But every time, everywhere, all he found was nothing.

After 4 years of fruitless searching he had to face his least favorite outcome (of course, his real least favorite was actually far too terrible to even think about and, therefore was completely ignored): Crowley was back in hell.

Well. Fine. Again, they both made their choice.

But then, a meeting with the archangels and the Metraton happened, and their plan was laid out, and it was terrible, and all his opinion and thoughts were dismissed as nothing, and then, finally, after 7 years, he understood. And God, how he hated himself. How he despised how stupid he had been. He had been played with beautifully, and everyone else had seen the strings but him.

"Supreme Archangel". Nothing supreme about it. He had less power than the queen of England.

So as soon as he left the meeting, he made a B-line to the elevator and pressed "Down" with a capital D.

As he followed Furfur, his mind raced with billions of scenarios, a few more likely than others. What would it be like, to see Crowley after all this time? Sure, this wasn't the longest period of time they had apart, but their separation was very… unique this time. What would Crowley do? Would he turn him away?

And what would he even say? Where would, could, he even start?

"Here we are," Furfur's voice brought him back to the present.

"Oh," The angel stopped almost too late, not bumping into the demon by an inch.

Aziraphale looked up. They were in front of an old large wooden door, with rusty iron patterns adorning it. It was antique and resembled the old doors they had in heaven before the place took a more clean design approach. It must have been beautiful, once. Maybe it was still beautiful even if it was almost falling apart, but Aziraphale didn't know if calling something beautiful in Hell even made sense.

"Worst of luck, Azripastel," Furfur grinned before opening the door.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Okay, now you are doing it on-"

"Oh, what now, you blithering idiot?”

Oh, lord. His voice. Aziraphale didn't know what it felt like to be suffocating. To have your lungs prived from the oxygen it needs to service. So he also didn't know how it felt to finally be able to breathe again, how hopeful, desperate, and relieving that first intake of air actually is. But if he could guess, it must feel something like that.

Listening to Crowley's voice was like breathing again. But then, he looked ahead, and he was breathless again.

"Crowley?” He spoke tentatively, as if he wasn't close to discorporating. Because Crowley… God. Crowley.

He was… Was divine a word he could use? Was it allowed? No, right? Because he had refrained from even using "beautiful" to describe a door in hell, so certainly… But what else could he call him? What else would be even fitting for the scene he had before him? Of course, there were other words, but they were not words he used. He couldn't use them or else he would lose his mind and all sense of self.

Well, it didn’t matter. All he knew and cared for was that right there, in front of him, sitting shir- oh, god- shirtless and leg-spread on a throne, one leg over thrown over its arm, hiding absolutely nothing in those sinful (may She forgive me) leather pants, sipping mindlessly from a glass of red wine, was Crowley. Crowley, Duke of Hell. No sunglasses.

The demon smirked at him, and his eyes were cold. "Well, if it isn't the Ssssupreme Archangel!" Crowley hissed his title.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale spoke again, and like an asteroid trapped in the sun's gravity, he took a step further into the room without even realizing it.

“Stop,” Crowley spat at him like Aziraphale was an overexcited dog, ready to jump. And like an obedient dog, Aziraphale stopped. Crowley shifted, sitting up straighter, and as he did, the sound of the several chains and necklaces he wore tingled. For some reason, that made Aziraphale shiver.

Aziraphale had never, in the history of forever, seen Crowley hold himself like that. Not as an angel, when he was the most adorable creature She has ever made. Not as a demon, or as the snake of Eden. Not even when they faced Satan together. Because Crowley, no matter how powerful he was, he never wore it like a crown. But here… Now? Oh, here he understood why people sinned.

“Why are you even here?” Crowley turned up his nose.

“Oh, I’m-”

“Not you, you idiot. Him” Crowley signed with his head behind the angel. “This isn’t a fucking party. Fuck off, Furfur.”

When Aziraphale looked back to see the demon leave with several complaints on his tongue, he was able to finally take a look at the place. It was crowded with stuff, but not like Hell crowded. It was… Almost like Aziraphale crowded. There were books, and instruments, and plants, and notebooks, and furniture, and ammulates, and paintings, and all sorts of things. All in bad shape, of course, it was almost like the air in Hell consumed things, but… it was there nonetheless. The style. He couldn’t help but smile when he looked back at Crowley.

“Oh, you are sssso full of nerve, aren’t you?” Crowley showed his fangs.

“Sorry,” the angel grimaced. Aziraphale didn’t remember ever even seeing them. They made him look so… Pretty. “I just-”

“Stop, stop, stop. Sssstop.” Crowley shifted again, leaning forward on his elbows, resting them on his knees, the wine glass hanging loosely between his hands. The chains tingled again. “I don’t know why you’re here, but if the best apology ever invented by… I don’t know, someone, doesn’t come out of your mouth right now, you can take your fanssscy grey suit back to where it belongs and leave me alone for the rest of eternity.”

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale stepped closer. At each step, Crowley’s eyes gave away a bit. One tiny sparkle, one at a time.

“I mean it.” Aziraphale was now within his reach. “And it’s not just a little dance! Because you can have the whole Royal Ballet dancing with you and that wouldn’t cut it.”

“I know, darling. I know.” Aziraphale was now so close that Crowley had to look up, but not for long.

Aziraphale was oddly proud for an angel, he would admit. But as he knelt before Crowley on that throne, he didn’t feel one ounce of pride. He knelt, one knee then the other, and sat on his heels. He gently took the glass of wine from Crowley’s hand and sat it aside, then took the demon’s hand in his.

He took his time feeling it this time. It was so fast, at the ball. But now he could feel it and see it properly. It was a beautiful hand. The black nail polish and the rings were a new addition, but it was slender, surprisingly smooth, and cold. So cold. He unconsciously tried to rub it a bit.

“Snake blood.” Crowley’s voice was low on his throat now. Quiet.

“Right, of course.” Aziraphale looked up and met his eyes.

It was like a different being completely from mere seconds ago. His eyes shone with the most pure tone of gold to exist in the universe. Hope suited him well. “Crowley, I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for the things I said. And for how I have said them. But I won’t do the dance, I’m afraid. Because I wasn’t wrong, but neither were you. But we weren’t right either. It’s a mess, really. But you were right about something. Heaven is not- Not what I thought it was. And they have something bad planned, and I- I need you.”

“So… That’s it? A couple of not-even-that-pretty words and you expect me to help you? After everything?”

“Yes.”

They stared at each other’s eyes for a couple of moments before Crowley sighed, taking his hands off Aziraphale’s. The angel didn’t understand how his hands felt colder at the lack of the touch. Crowley reached for the glass of wine, and got up, rounding Aziraphale, who followed him with his eyes from the floor, brows furrowed as he tried to understand if Crowley had or hadn’t forgiven him.

Crowley went to a shelf near the exit and grabbed something. The place was so messy Aziraphale took a while to see what it was, but when he did, he sighed in relief.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” the demon said, opening his sunglasses temples with his chin.

“Y-Yes!” Aziraphale jumped to his feet. But before Crowley could put his glasses on, Aziraphale stopped him, holding his wrist back. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Thank you. And I- I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He stepped closer and put his hand on Crowley’s chest. He was warmer here.

Crowley’s pupil widened and he swallowed dry. Aziraphale couldn’t help but follow his Adam’s apple and wettening his lips. Crowley must have noticed because when he spoke, his voice had the tiniest glint of a smile behind it.

“Oh, I’ll hold you up to that promise, Angel.” Crowley smiled, really smiled, for the first time in seven years.

Crowley put on his sunglasses and snapped his fingers. The huge door stormed open, hitting the walls on the corridor, and nearly not killing Furfur, who was stubbornly waiting outside. “Furfur! My guy!”

“Me?” The demon glowed.

“Yeah, go tell Shax she can have her room back.”

“Wh-What?”

Crowley gulped down the wine, and threw it over to the side, near Furfur’s head. “I’m off this shit hole!” He turned around with an easy smile on his face. Oh, how smiling came easy when Aziraphale was near him. “You coming, Angel?”

He reached out his hand, and without a second thought, Aziraphale took it. “Of course.”

When their hands were securely interlaced, Crowley snapped his fingers and they were out of there. They had a world to save.

END?

>> This short fic was inspired by Joops's Art.

#good omens season 2 #good omens fanfic #fic by pidge it up #good omens #crowley as duke of hell is so hot #inspired by art #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley is a simp for Aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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acespecasf · 1 month

Text

Jeff Hcs to pair with my earlier post because I have nothing better to do with my time

- Since the accident, his hair has started growing brown again, so he dyes it black now. That's why it doesn't look all ashy.

- His entire room has never been cleaned once. Never. There's things in there that Lovecraft would shudder at.

- He does NOT like fire. In any form. Candles? No. Lighters? HELL NO. You dare to have a fireplace? Fuck you.

- There are times he never shuts up and times that he refuses outright to talk.

- He's not a psychopath or a sociopath, but he IS schizophrenic as well as very dissociative, so his personality is all over the place, all the time.

- He dislikes anything pickled. Don't ask why. He just does.

- He hates being labeled. He doesn't want to know what's wrong with his brain. He doesn't want to know his sexuality. He doesn't want to go down the gender rabbit hole. He's perfectly fine not knowing and would prefer not to know. Labels feel like a way of enabling people to make fun of him.

- His manic episodes are why he killed his family. That wasn't really him, but at the same time, it was and he regrets NOTHING. He himself is unsure.

- He and Liu aren't really that friendly anymore, but they tolerate each other. They used to be best friends, and then drifted apart....Jeff often wonders why.

BONUS!! Jeff x reader hcs!

- He will never say he's your boyfriend. The closest you are getting to this being a relationship is whatever the fuck Peter Quill and Gamora had/have going on. He will NEVER say it.

- He steals the blanket so fucking much. He does. It is his blanket now. You're not complaining though, his blankets smell like blood, BO, dog hair, and whatever 'wet' smells like. Wet is accurate.

- He acts like he doesn't give a shit about you most of the time, but he does care. Somewhere deep down. Maybe.

Any of my hcs are fully my own here.

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moodymelanist · 2 years

Text

The Valkyries

Happy Day 5 of @nessianweek, y’all! I hope you enjoy this one<3

Summary: Cassian goes to see a band perform and falls hard for the woman with the red bass.

Word Count: 2,505

Warnings: Smoking

Read on AO3 here!

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

Cassian

When Azriel had invited him to see his girlfriend’s band perform, Cassian simply had no idea what he was getting himself into.

It had been a long week of teaching the little shits otherwise known as twelve-year-old history students, so when Azriel dropped the flyer in the Inner Circle group chat and asked them to come with him, Cassian hadn’t hesitated to say yes. He needed a break, he hadn’t seen Az and Gwyn in a while, and he loved a good concert.

When the fated Saturday night came around, Cassian took his time getting ready and made sure to clean up his place somewhat – maybe he’d get lucky tonight. It was a short drive to The Rainbow, and Cassian was grateful he was able to find parking only a block or two away.

Once he got inside, it was almost too easy spotting Az and Gwyn in the crowd. Azriel was dressed in his usual all black, but even in the low light of the bar, Gwyn’s fiery hair shone like a beacon. Cassian made a quick stop at the bar to get himself a beer before he went up to them.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Cassian joked once he got close enough. Azriel rolled his eyes but gave him a one-handed hug as Gwyn laughed, clearly delighted to see him here.

“Class clown as always,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m just glad I could see the show before you get too famous,” he responded with a grin.

“If I get famous for anything, I hope it’s for my research,” she countered. Gwyn was easily one of the smartest people Cassian knew, as she had a Ph.D. in psychology and could talk for hours about her research on authenticity and diversity in the workplace. She also taught a class or two every semester at the University of Prythian, so she and Cassian had bonded over their shared teaching experiences.

They made small talk for another fifteen minutes or so, catching up on gossip since the last time they’d seen each other. Apparently, Mor and her girlfriend Andromache had broken up, so she couldn’t make it because she was busy packing her stuff from the other woman’s apartment. Amren was still on vacation with her boyfriend Varian, and rarely responded to the group chat as it was, so nobody really knew what she was up to.

Rhys showed up only a few minutes before Gwyn and her band were going to perform, apologizing profusely and buying them more beers. He served as a representative for Velaris County on the state legislature, and one of the town halls had ran late so he’d busted his ass to get there on time.

“I didn’t miss anything, did I?” Rhys asked, still somewhat out of breath. He handed his friends their beers before taking a deep swig of his own.

“No, they’re getting ready to go on now,” Azriel responded. He pointed with his beer to the small stage at the front of the bar, where a small crowd was beginning to gather. The three of them were tall enough that they wouldn’t have any trouble seeing over most people’s heads, so they decided to stay where they were until closer to the show getting started.

Cassian watched as Gwyn and three other women began setting up for their performance. Gwyn had changed into a tight, black leather dress with a zipper down the entire front, complete with a pair of matching thigh-high leather boots. He watched as she quickly adjusted her microphone and tapped it a few times to make sure it was on before turning to help the rest of her bandmates lug out some heavy-looking amps. They seemed like they’d be at that for a while, so he turned back to his friends and began teasing Rhys about his outfit.

“Sorry for looking professional while serving your sorry ass,” Rhys quipped back, earning a laugh from Azriel. Rhys had had the good sense to leave his suit jacket in his car, but used his free hand to loosen his tie so it wasn’t so tight around his neck. “Better?”

“Much,” Cassian replied with a laugh. “It stopped me from making a complaint with your office, at least.”

Rhys rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Like that’s stopped you from bothering my office before.”

Cassian laughed again, ready to keep making fun of Rhys, but then the lights started dimming and a bit of a hush fell over the crowd. Azriel took that as his cue to start moving the three of them forward closer to the stage, and they eventually made it to the middle of the crowd; close enough to clearly see the stage, but not so close that they’d be getting jostled too badly if the crowd decided to get crazy.

“Thank you all for coming out,” Gwyn said into the microphone. She motioned to her bandmates behind her and added, “We’re The Valkyries, and you can find us here again next month. We’re gonna do some of our own stuff mixed in with some classics, and if you like us, you can stream us on Spotify and Apple Music.”

As the Valkyries launched into the first song of their set, Cassian had to fight to keep his jaw from dropping. He hadn’t doubted Gwyn’s talents, as he’d heard her angelic voice countless times over, but he had no idea their band was so good. At least, that’s what he told himself the reason for his shock was. It absolutely had nothing to do with the most stunning woman he’d ever seen in his life playing the bass.

She was tall, only a handful of inches shorter than Gwyn, but it was a little hard to tell from how far Cassian was from the stage. She had on a leather halter top laced together in the middle in a way that pushed up her generous breasts and showed off her flat stomach, paired with black jeans and thick black boots. Her bass was dark red, the same color as her nails and lipstick, and coincidentally the shade of red Cassian liked best.

It was hard to make out from the distance, but Cassian thought she might have some kind of tattoo between her breasts. He prayed he’d get the chance to see it up close, along with the rest of her tattoos. She had a half sleeve on her left arm of what looked like flames at the top, flowers in the middle, and a large crescent moon at the bottom.

He liked the tattoos almost as much as he liked her face. She was focused on playing, rocking her body in time with the beat as her fingers moved expertly across the strings of her bass guitar. Her bronze hair was pulled back from her face in a high ponytail, keeping the long waves out of her gorgeous face.

Cassian was so mesmerized throughout the set that he didn’t notice the knowing looks Rhys and Azriel were exchanging across him. He only had eyes for her , the way her entire body leaned into the music, the tiny smiles she exchanged with her bandmates when things went well and the way she scrunched her nose in distaste when someone messed up.

By the time the show was over, Cassian had subscribed to the band on every known social media platform and made sure to like his favorites out of the songs they’d performed. He noticed they’d only performed songs also performed by women – his personal favorite had been their cover of Blondie’s Call Me – but he’d liked their original music, too.

“They were really good,” Cassian said as the crowds began to thin out. They had moved closer to the bar while they waited for Gwyn and her bandmates, and he ordered some water just for something to do.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Azriel replied dryly. “I have been telling you how good they were for months.”

“He only cares now because they’re all hot,” Rhys teased, earning his payback from Cassian’s earlier ribbing. He barely dodged Cassian’s half-hearted punch, but it didn’t stop him and Azriel from laughing at the look on Cassian’s face. “You’re not exactly denying it, Cass.”

“Whatever,” Cassian grumbled. He resolutely ignored the knowing grins on his brothers’ faces. “I plead the Fifth.”

Gwyn and her bandmates picked that moment to return from backstage, all four of them still wearing the outfits they’d worn on stage. All that leather and skin on display from afar had been one thing, but seeing them up close was doing unspeakable things for Cassian’s overactive imagination.

“You were amazing,” Azriel complimented, giving Gwyn a rare smile as he opened his arms to her. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Gwyn replied. She came in close for a hug before stepping back, leaving her boyfriend’s arm slung around her shoulders as she looked around at everyone else. “Thanks for coming, also.”

“Of course,” Rhys and Cassian replied in unison. Rhys shot Cassian a knowing smirk before he said, “Gwyn, introduce us to your bandmates.”

“Oh! Sorry, I forgot that you’ve all never met face-to-face because I talk about you all so much.” Gwyn pointed to everyone in turn. “This is Emerie, Cresseida, and Nesta, also known as The Valkyries. Ladies, these are my boyfriend’s brothers Rhysand and Cassian. You all know Azriel already, of course.”

Nesta , Cassian turned over in his mind. It was a name he hadn’t heard before, but that was fitting for a woman the likes of he’d never seen before.

“Just Rhys is fine by me,” Rhys responded with a smile. He raised his beer at the band’s direction in an approximation of a toast. “You were incredible up there.”

Emerie smiled, her brown skin shining prettily under the low lights of the bar. “Thanks, just Rhys. Glad you enjoyed the show.”

“Hope you enjoyed it enough to come back to the next one,” Cresseida said with a smirk. She slung an arm around Emerie’s waist, tipping her head of silvery curls onto the other woman’s shoulder with a little sigh. “And to stream our music.”

“Don’t worry, my favorites are already in my playlist,” Cassian promised, somehow managing to find his voice now that he was up close to them. To Nesta . Seeing all that skin on display and not being able to touch was a true exercise of patience, but hopefully by the end of the night things would be looking up.

“Thanks for your dedication,” Nesta replied. Her gray-blue eyes swept over him and he fought the urge to fidget under that powerful stare, especially once he realized she had an eyebrow piercing through her right brow.

Cassian somehow managed not to swallow his tongue when he realized she was blatantly checking him out. “No problem.”

“I’m gonna step out for a smoke,” Nesta announced to the group. She dug into the back pocket of her obscenely tight jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before shooting Cassian a meaningful look. “I’ll be back in a few.”

Nesta had barely turned and disappeared into the crowd before Rhys was shoving Cassian in her direction. “Hurry up and follow her , dumbass!”

Cassian didn’t waste anymore time after that. He quickly finished the rest of his water and left the plastic cup on the counter, manuevering through the crowd as quickly as he dared until he’d managed to find Nesta again. She led him on a winding path to a side exit, the bouncer guarding the door nodding at both of them before letting them outside.

“Wasn’t sure you’d get the hint,” Nesta said once they were outside, her voice much quieter now that they were away from the hustle and bustle of the bar. She leaned against the wall of the building next door and pulled a cigarette from the pack to light it. “You want one?”

“Trust me, I got it,” Cassian replied, laughing a little at how eager he’d been to follow her. “And I’m okay, thanks.”

“Mhmm.” Nesta breathed out a long line of smoke, and he pretended that he wasn’t looking hard at the shape of her lips as she did. “What do you do, Cassian?”

“I’m a teacher,” he answered, running a hand over his hair for something to do. “Middle school history.”

“That’s sweet,” she responded with a little smile. His heart skipped a beat at how beautiful she was when she smiled, even when it was small, and a large part of him wanted to know what she looked like with a true smile gracing her features. “I could use some of that in my life. I’m mostly surrounded by assholes otherwise.”

“What do you do to be surrounded by assholes so often?”

“I’m a lawyer. There’s just as many men trying to prove they have the biggest dick in the room as you’d expect.”

Cassian laughed at the image, but he certainly wasn’t surprised she was just as smart and quick-witted as she was beautiful. “I see your point. I can be an asshole sometimes, but hopefully not as much as them.”

“Eh, you look like a much nicer guy than any of them,” Nesta replied with a little shrug.

“I hope so, but I also hate the ‘nice guy’ thing,” he responded with a little shudder.

“Why?” she asked curiously. She took another drag from her cigarette as she waited for his response.

“Being a nice guy isn’t about looking like one, or telling people you’re one,” he told her honestly. “Being a good person means you shouldn’t have to… I don’t know, broadcast it to the world. You should be a good person just because it’s the right thing to do.”

“I like that answer,” she replied after a minute. “So you’re a teacher, you think being a good person is important because it’s the right thing to do, and you came to my concert. You don’t have a girlfriend waiting at home for you, do you?”

“No,” he said way too quickly. He very much liked the direction this conversation was heading, but he wanted to test the waters early before he got too invested – he’d been burned by biphobia before, but he was hopeful that wouldn’t be the case here. “No boyfriend, either.”

If anything, Nesta’s expression got slightly more intrigued at his words. “None of the above for me, either.”

At this point, Cassian would’ve usually made some forward comment that would’ve hopefully gotten him on the way to someone else’s bedroom, but things felt different with Nesta in a way he’d never experienced before. He wanted to be honest with her, not just feed her lines he’d given to dozens of people before her.

Instead, he just said, “Do you want one?”

The corners of Nesta’s lips turned up as she dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with her boot. “If you’re as nice as you seem, maybe.”

#nessianweek2022 #nessian #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #moodymelanistwrites

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svenotes · 4 years

Text

stay with me | jjk

❝ maybe staying another night at your boyfriend’s isn’t such a bad idea ❞

[ PAIRING ] : jeon jungkook x reader

[ GENRE ] : established relationship au + smut and a smudge of fluff

[ WORD COUNT ] : 6k

[ WARNINGS ] : oral sex, some real good tongue technology on jungkook’s part, fingering, overstimulation, penetrative sex, creampie, LOTS AND LOTS of dirty talk, jk calls oc ‘baby’ and ‘pretty girl’ way too many times, oc worried that her bf is going to get tired of her, some mentions of anxiety, jk is the sweetest bf and even sweeter at sex, there is barely any plot and just a lot of sex im so sorry

[ AUTHOR’S NOTE ] : i'm on my period and i got horny and then this happened

masterlist | wattpad cross post | ao3 cross post

“No.”

Jungkook shuffles behind you, the bed moaning. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

You shake your head, failing to suppress your smile as you slip on your thong. However, it does little to hide you from him. Glancing at the mirror, you see him shamelessly stare at your ass, licking his lips before he meets your gaze through the glass with a boyish grin.

You turn around to face him. “You’re going to ask me to stay.”

Jungkook hums, eyes dancing across your bare skin, darkening. Heat rushes to your cheeks as he admires you, confidence swelling in your chest and you take a moment to admire him. He sits at the edge of the bed, naked and yours, white, silk sheets pooled around his lower abdomen.

Your eyes trace over his rigid muscles, and your fingers itch to touch him. Even under the dim light, he is beautiful with his dishevelled hair and swollen lips. You finally meet his gaze and swear your knees almost give out. Heat pools in your stomach when you see the hunger in his gaze, breath hitching in your throat. Your thighs press together reflexively and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Wrong.” Jungkook pulls you at you until you're straddling him. He cranes his neck to press butterfly kisses along your jaw. “I was going to ask you to not leave.”

“Baby.” You thread your fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands. “That means the same thing.”

“Don't care,” he hums, pressing a firm kiss against your lips. “Don’t go.”

His plea tugs at the strings of your heart. It’s hard to say deny him. It’s especially hard to deny him with his dick hard, prodding against your thigh and his lips coercing you to stay cocooned under the sheets with him. However, the anxiety that builds in your chest is overwhelming and the thoughts that kept you up the night before still linger.

“Jungkook.”

“Unless you’re telling me you're staying, I don’t want to hear it.”

You giggle, leaning down for a sweet kiss. Minutes pass by before you pull away with a burn in your lungs and clouded mind. He chases after your lips, but you tilt your head for his lips to press against the corner of your lips, to his reluctance.

“Baby,” you start, “I need to go home and get new clothes. I’ve spent the entire weekend here and now I have nothing to wear.”

“I like you naked, anyway.” He grins as you slap his chest, failing to bite back your smile. “You can wear my clothes.”

“I have no underwear left.”

“I have a laundry machine.” He traces every curve of your spine, sending shivers down your back. “You’ll have clean clothes tomorrow.”

You brush the long strands of his hair from of his face. “I could grab some new clothes and come back tomorrow.”

“It’s going to be dark soon,” he reasons, unhooking your bra with two fingers and you cock a brow. “Leave in the morning — after breakfast. Dangerous people come out at night, y’know? I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“You would’ve won me over with that one if you didn’t unhook my bra,” you remark, pinning him with a look.

“Really? Wait, lemme redo that—!” You let out a heartfelt laugh, throwing your head back and he grins. “Seriously, don't go. I don’t want you walking outside late at night.”

“The sun’s only about to set, I can get home before it gets too dark.”

Jungkook’s brows pinch together, lips curling downwards. “You’re trying so hard to leave. Why?”

Your heart misses a beat and you pray he doesn’t notice the hesitation in your eyes as anxiety swells in your chest. Your worries flood your mind as a reminder as why you must leave.

“You're going to get sick of me if I don't give you some space.”

“I could never get sick of you,” he retorts, holding you closer with a shake of his head. “And I don't need space from you. Wanna keep you in my arms forever.”

Your gaze softens on him and his cheeks are coloured pink. “Kook.”

“I don’t want you to leave — not tonight.” He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. “Want you to stay with me.”

You indulge in the idea; one more night. You could stay one more night. You could. However, the fear in your chest does not allow for it. You’re scared — worried if he spends every waking moment with you he’ll soon get tired of you. Perhaps it’s a stupid thought considering you’ve been dating for over a year now, but the dread still lingers. No matter how much you reason with it, it haunts your thoughts — keeps you awake in the middle of the night even as he rests in your embrace.

He drags you from your reverie, pressing a kiss against the sweet spot under your ear and you let him have his way for now.

“Don’t go,” he says again in a whisper, pleading with his eyes. “Please. I want you to stay.”

Before you can answer he leans down to press his lips against yours. His lips meld with your own in a fervent kiss, his hand trailing down your body and tracing the curve of your ass, as he presses himself against your core. You roll your hips against him as the kiss becomes more sloppy and desperate with every press of him against you. Waves of pleasure shoot down to your core, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Jungkook,” you moan.

His lips trail down the underside of your jaw, pressing a wet kiss against your pulse. A coil of desire begins to tighten at every nudge of his shaft against your nerves, nails digging into the skin on his back in response.

“Ngh — Jungkook, please,” you urge as presses his hips against yours, applying pressure to your bundle of nerves.

“Please, what, baby,” he hums, smirking against your skin. “Use your words.”

“Touch me. Please, ah,” you moan, throwing your head back against the pillow. “Need you to touch me.”

He throws your unhooked bra to the side. Bringing a hand to wrap around your breast, he squeezes it adoring how soft and pliant you are under his touch. You arch your back as his tongue flicks against your perked nipple.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his warm breath fanning across the pebbled bud on your breast. “Thought you had to go, hm?”

“Jungkook—!”

“I won’t stop until I’m satisfied,” he says, hoarse, searching your eyes for an answer. “I won’t let you go until you’re begging me to stop. Do you want that?” He rolls grinds his cock against your core, groaning. “Won't stop ’til I feel your hot, tight pussy milk me for every last drop. Ah, wanna feel you fall apart on my cock, see you all pretty and full of my cum, hear you beg for more and more until you break.”

You gasp at his vulgar words, the hot, white coil tightening in your stomach. You wish so badly for him to be inside of you when you clench around nothing. His lips wrap around your perked nipple, licking and biting you, eliciting the sweetest of moans from your lips as his tongue swirls around your bud.

Your thread your fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck how he likes it. He moans against you as you continue to experimentally roll your hips against him, desperate for some friction — for him.

“Do you want that, too, baby?” He asks, leaving a trail of kisses up the valley between your breasts. “Means you can’t go home though. You’ll miss your train if you let me do the things I want.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to get tired of seeing me every day?”

You try to laugh, but your voice comes out strained and full of worry. It doesn't sound like a joke as you hoped, voice shaking as you ask your question. Your heart thunders in your chest and you wonder if he can hear it.

Jungkook stills, his lips brushing against your collarbone. He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed and eyes full of confusion.

“You think I’m getting tired of you?”

You look away from his piercing gaze and he doesn’t like it. Taking your face in his hands, he urges you to meet his eyes and you find yourself meeting his concerned gaze.

“Talk to me,” he says, softly.

You take a deep breath, eyes flickering to your hands resting against his chest. Mustering the courage to open up, you meet his gaze again as he patiently waits for your response, a thumb rubbing soothingly against the soft skin of your cheek.

“I—I’m scared that you're going to realize I’m not as great as you think I am,” you begin softly, voice shaking. “I’m worried if you spend too much time with me you'll get sick of me. I’m scared you’re going to get tired of me and leave me.” You pause, noticing the bewildered expression on his face. “I wanted to leave so I could give you space in case you wanted it. I didn’t — I don’t want to suffocate you.”

He’s silent for a long moment and you know it’s because he’s collecting his thoughts. However, a part of you still worries. You worry it's because he realizes he has grown tired of your presence. You worry he realizes that you have too much emotional baggage and doesn’t want to deal with it. You worry because you have a hard time accepting someone’s love.

“I haven’t done a good job at being your boyfriend,” he starts and your eyes widen, “if you’re thinking I’m going to get sick of you.”

“No,” you reply immediately, cupping his face. “It's not you. It’s my insecurities — my anxiety. You’re more than perfect. You say and do all the right things, Kook. I just… I’m scared one day you’re going to get tired of me — tired of constantly reassuring me, sick of having me around all the time and clinging to you.”

You’ve talked to Jungkook about it before. He knows about the thoughts that keep you up at night — the worries that gnaw at you until you’re in tears. He knows and he stays. He tries to help you in every way he possibly can. He holds you when you need it, whispers reassuring words, comforts you no matter when or where. He’s there for you in every possible way because he loves you.

But sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you — especially when it comes to him.

“Baby,” he starts and it’s hard to meet his eyes, “I will never get tired of you. I will never get sick of you.”

“You don’t know that—!”

He cuts you off, “But I do. I know because I can’t get enough of you. I don’t think I ever will. Every moment you’re not with me all I want is you. All I can ever think about is you. You drive me crazy and you don’t even know it. All I ever want is you beside me, in my arms, in my house with me. I always want you right beside me — right where you belong.” A pause. “You know I love you, right?”

“I love you, too.” Your response is almost immediate and he smiles, leaning to press a soft kiss against your lips.

“Do you know how much I love your laugh?” You’re silent. “Do you know how much I love making you smile; how much I love waking up beside you and falling asleep with you in my arms. How much I adore your victory dances when you win games and your snoring—!”

“Hey!” You complain, but there’s a smile curling on your lips to match his.

“I love you so much — every single part of you — I couldn’t possibly ever get sick you. I love you so much I don't ever want to let you go.”

Hesitantly, you look at him and let the sincerity of his words sink in. His eyes are full of adoration for you and your heart is enveloped by a sudden warmth only he can elicit in you. Lifting your hand between your bodies and extend your pink finger to him.

“Promise?”

He doesn't hesitate to wrap his small finger around yours before sealing the promise with a sweet kiss. “Promise.”

“Okay,” you say, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I wasn’t being too clingy this weekend? I wasn’t bothering you or being annoish—!”

“I’m going to stop you before you say more things I don’t like.” He smothers your face in his hands, eyes narrowed. “Remember, I wanted you here this weekend, too. And I want you to spend another night because I love you and I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“Okay,” you murmur, shyly. “I’ll stay the night.”

“Good. I want my pretty girl beside me,” he chuckles under his breath, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. You notice his eyes grow softer, an emotion you cannot decipher hidden behind the awestruck in his eyes that leaves butterflies in its wake. “Move in with me.”

You blink. “What?”

“I—!" His eyes are wide as if he didn’t expect himself to say the word himself. His eyes flicker downwards before they meet yours again with purpose. “I want you to move in with me.” A deep breath. “My apartments too big for just one person and I miss you whenever you’re gone. You spend more time here than you do at your own place anyway. Move in with me.”

You search eyes and all you're met with is sincerity. “Are you sure?”

“Yea,” his smile is soft but it makes your heart swell. “Yea, I'm sure. I’m tired of waking up every morning and not having you beside me.”

“Moving in?” You ask, uncertainly.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but I wasn’t sure if you were ready. And you don’t have to give me an answer tonight or tomorrow. I want you to think about it and if you’re not ready, that’s okay because I’ll wait for you. You’re worth the wait.”

“Kook—!"

“I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you, ___.” Your eyes widen at the declaration and his cheeks are coloured pink despite the bright smile on his lips. “I know we’re not there yet, but I want you every single day for the rest of my life. So while I wait for you to be my wife, I want to move in with you.”

Jungkook momentarily stills before he realizes the soft pressure against his lips is your own, smiling into the kiss as he closes his eyes. He kisses you tenderly and sweet, but there is desperation behind them. You’ve kissed Jungkook thousands of times but he still makes your head dizzy as he slips his tongue between the seams of your lips. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, your fingers tangled in his hair and his own pulling you closer towards him.

He pulls back first, a string of saliva connecting you before he places another firm kiss against your lips. “Was that a yes?”

“Yea,” you breathe, grinning. “Yea, it was.”

He flips you onto the bed with practiced ease, your back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you. You giggle as he places butterfly kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“I love you so much,” he breathes, face hidden in the crook of your neck. “My pretty, pretty girl.”

“Jungkook.”

“Yes.”

“I want to cum.”

He laughs, pulling away. “Shameless, too.”

He leaves a trail of kisses down your body until he’s a hair's breadth from your cunt. His fingers brush against your closed slit, arousal leaking through the flimsy material as he presses against your core. Your breathing becomes erratic when he presses a kiss against your clothed lips.

“Baby — fuck.” Your eyes roll back as he drags his tongue to your clit, the friction from the fabric on your nerves driving you crazy. “St-stop, agh, teasing.”

“You’re not in the position to make rules, baby,” he says, rubbing against your clothed clit. “I’m going to take my time with you — have you begging for me to taste your cunt. And when you do, I’ll use my tongue to lick every little drop of sweetness from your pussy. Make you come on my mouth over and over until you’re begging me to stop.”

You whine, “Please.”

He teases you, moving your underwear aside just enough to lick a long stripe from your pussy to your clit. Groaning, he meets your eyes as your underwear slides back in place.

“You taste so good, baby,” he purrs, pressing a kiss against your thigh. “And you're so fucking wet. Bet I could slide right into you.” His fingers are back on you, brushing against your clit but not enough to do anything. “You want me, baby?”

Your arch your back in response to his next ministration. “Yes.”

His touch is gone just like that and you whine, brows furrowed in frustration. He snaps the waistband of your thong against your skin with a smirk.

“Beg.”

“Jungkook—!”

You’re about to complain, but he cuts you off. “Beg or I’ll fuck myself using that pretty mouth and leave you dry. Tell me, baby, how bad do you want me?”

“Please, baby, I need you.” Your hooded eyes meet his heated gaze. “Need your fingers, mouth, cock — you. I need you so bad. Wanna feel you so bad, please.”

“Could be better,” he muses before he presses a kiss against your clothed core. “But I’m impatient.” He taps your hips. “Up.”

Helping you out of your underwear, he brings his face towards your core, blowing against your opening. His nose brushes against your thigh as he places another kiss against the soft skin, hooking your legs over his shoulder.

“You’re soaking and I’ve barely touched you.”

You hum, contentedly when his tongue brushes against your slit. “All for you.”

“My pretty girl,” he rasps, nose brushing against clit. “So wet and needy for me.”

Before you can complain again you feel his hot, wet tongue press harshly against your lips before he drags it up to your clit. He swirls the rosy muscle on your clit, teasingly until your moaning and breathless. Without warning, his lips envelop around your throbbing bud, sucking in full force you scream his name as your hips buck. Warm hands hold your waist down as he hums, tongue licking against your entrance again. For a moment he dips inside you, moaning at the taste of your sweetness before going back to suck at your clit the way you love it and you see stars behind your lids.

He repeats the motion over and over, swirling his warm tongue around your swollen bud and sucking it in a way that has you forgetting your own name. Against your slick lips, he whispers praises, before he slips two fingers into your warm cavern and curling his fingers inside you.

“O-oh, fuck—!” you gasp, fingers tangled in his hair. “Don — mmngh — don’t stop, ngh.”

“Gotchu,” he grins when he finds your sweet spot. “Does it feel good, baby?”

“S-so good.” Your nails scrape against his scalp and he emits a low groan. “So fucking good, fuck.”

His fingers continue their onslaught at a new pace, brushing roughly against the spot that leaves you breathless. His lips are back on your clit like a hot suction and you scream out from the overwhelming pleasure.

“So fucking tight,” he muses, pressing a kiss against your bud. “Your pretty cunt's taking my fingers so well, baby. You sound so pretty while I fuck you with my fingers, but you sound prettier when you cum, you know that?”

Your head is spinning from euphoria, ecstasy and the lack of oxygen, but it doesn't matter — not when he's bringing you closer and closer to your release.

“Mngh — J-Jungkook!” He sets a new violent pace that leaves you overwhelmed as he hits your sweet spot. His name falling out your lips like a broken record while he licks at your juices, groaning against your cunt when you fist his hair and pull him closer to you. An electrifying coil in your lower abdomen tightens, building further when his ministrations bring you closer and closer to your peak. You clench around his fingers, bucking your hips further into his hand, whimpering as you say, “God, yes — ngh, fuck. I’m so close.”

“Cum for me.”

Euphoric pleasure slowly, yet surely floods through your body, his lips enveloped around your sensitive bud as he curls his fingers against your soft spot. With one last flick of his tongue, you fall off the euphoric cliff as he laps at your juices. He presses harsh, but sure circles against your clit with his thumb as you ride out your orgasm. Your hip spams, thighs trembling as he coaxes you through an indescribable, mind-blowing release that leaves your vision white.

His lips don’t leave your nether regions, wincing at the oversensitivity. You tug at his strands of hair but he shakes his head.

“Not done with you yet,” he whispers, licking the fruits of his efforts once his fingers slip out of your dripping cunt. “Wanna have you crying my name. Wanna show you how much I love you. Will you let me?”

You lift your head from the pillow, leaning on your elbows as you sit up. He holds your stare, smirking before he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit to your sensitive bud and you shudder. His grip on your thighs tightens to keep you in place before he lowers his head between your thighs, the hot suction back on your clit.

“Agh, Kookie.” You throw your head back, chest heaving. “I’m too—” Gasp. “—sensitive.”

“You can take it.” A kiss against your nether lips. “Wanna show you how much I want you — how much I love the taste of you. I’m not letting you go until you’re begging me to stop. You up for that? Want me to remind you how good I can make you feel?” He dips his tongue back in you and you hiss. “Can you be my pretty, little slut, baby, hm? You wanna make me happy, don’t you?”

“Y-yea.”

You feel him smile against your thigh. “Who does this pretty pussy belong to?”

“You.”

“That’s right.” A rewarding stroke his tongue. “This pussy belongs to me. You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Will you let me play with this pretty cunt, baby?”

He watches you with hunger in his eyes and the desire to have him use you as he pleases to seek his own pleasure overcomes you.

He brushes his tongue against your swollen nub, and you gasp, “Yes.”

“Pretty girl,” he hums and you’re immediately wrapped around his finger. “Do you want to be my perfect little slut?” You nod, meeting his heated gaze, a wolfish grin curling on his lips. “You're too good to me, you know that, baby?” He teases his tongue around your entrance, eliciting a whine from you. “My pretty girl.” Lips wrap around your clit and you scream, body falling limp against his sheets. “My perfect, little slut.”

And with that his tongue is on you, violently bringing you to another release. You are oxygen and he is a man deprived, burying himself deeper in your cunt. A growl emits from the back of his throat as you thread your fingers through his hair, your winces from oversensitivity shifting to moans of pleasure. He finds home between your thighs, reluctant to leave as he licks at every drop of sweetness you grant him. Jungkook brings you to release over and over until your tears stream down your face and you find it hard to take the pressure of his tongue against your overly-sensitive nerves.

With one last wave of pleasure washing over you, he pulls away. His cheeks are coated with a warm fuchsia, lips parted as he looks at your cunt with a predatory gaze. From his nose to his chin, he is covered in a sheen of your juices, eyes blown out as they meet your own.

He adores your fucked out expression, your chest heaving while you catch your breath. His tongue swipes at the remnants of your release on his swollen lips, the back of his hand wiping the excess off his chin before he leans down to catch you in a short kiss. When he pulls away, his eyes search yours for any sign that you want to stop, but he finds nothing.

“You did so well, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“You told me you would make me pretty and full of your cum.” His gaze hardens on you, dark eyes trained on your own. “‘M not full of your cum yet. Can you fix that?”

“Such a greedy slut.” A smile grows on his lips as he leans down to your neck, nipping at the skin. “I made you come on my mouth so many times, but you still want more. Greedy, needy slut.”

“For you.” You wrap your legs around his waist as you grind yourself against his dick. “Only for you.”

He groans, hips rolling in rhythm with yours. “You like being my slut?”

“I like being yours.”

He stills for all of a second before he breaks out into a grin, laughing as he presses a kiss against your lips. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pulls his lips back on yours. As he leans towards you, his shaft presses against your folds. You’re barely able to focus on the kissing as you lose yourself in the overwhelming sensation as he grinds against you, coating his length with your juices.

A knot forms in your lower abdomen like a hot, tight coil wanting to snap. You can already feel yourself get needy at the feeling of his length against your folds, but before you can act upon it—!

“Tsk.” Jungkook clicks his tongue against his teeth as he catches you trying to slip his cock past your folds. “You want my cock?”

“Mhm,” you hum in a daze, eyes lazily meeting his. “Want you inside me.”

“It’s not going to be that easy, baby.” You furrow your eyes at that, mouth opening in protest. “Beg for it. Tell me how badly you want to be fucked by my cock.”

You frown. “That’s not happening—!”

There’s a teasing pressure against your pussy that makes you gasp, eyes rolling back as your mouth hangs open. A soft whimper escapes from you as he adjusts his cock to rub against you, mixing his pre-cum with your juices.

“What was that?” He asks, smirking and you glare at him through your lashes. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. I can give you everything you want if you just—” he leans down until his lips brush against your ear, his finger grazing over your sensitive clit and you hiss, pushing your hips against his hands for more, “—beg.”

Again, you ignore his request but more so because he aligns his cock to prod against your cunt and you cannot focus on anything but your need to have him buried in you. You can feel the sudden weight in the pit of your stomach as you lick your lips.

“So hungry for my cock,” he grunts. “You want something to fill you up so good you forget your name, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you cry at the lack of attention on your sex. “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks, lips curling because he knows he has you exactly where he wants. “Words.”

“Please fuck me,” you give in, frustrated as your walls clench around nothing. You’re hungry for more — body craving more of what he’s willing to offer; of the undeniable pleasure he would provide if you just gave in. “God, I want your cock — need it. Need you to fill me up, need you to fuck me — nngh!” You moan, body going rigid against his as his head rubs against your swollen bud, fingers tweaking at your perked nipples. “Want you so bad, baby. Wanna be your perfect, little slut so bad. Have me however you want, I don’t care — do whatever you want to me. I don’t fucking care.” You grind yourself against him, chest heaving as the desire for him to fill you up becomes desperate. “Just fuck me, baby, please.”

“That’s my girl.” He rewards you with a kiss. “I’ll fuck you, baby. I’ll fill you up with my cock. Gonna bury my cock deep inside your slick cunt. Gonna stretch out your walls so good no other cock will be good enough for you — no other cock could ever fill you up like mine. No one will fuck you better than me.”

“That’s right, baby,” you urge. “Make me yours.”

Painfully, slow he slips his cock into your warm cunt, groaning. He’s big, in both length and grith, causing a slight burn accompanied by an abundance of pleasure. Moans fill the room as he fills you up to the brim, inch by inch until he no longer can. Your hot, slick walls clench around him and he groans, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“Stop that,” he growls, brows furrowed in concentration. “You’re so fucking tight, ah. If keep you do that I’m going to fucking blow my load.”

“Do your worst, baby,” you say, eyes hazy. “I want you to ruin me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, unsheathing himself from your cunt until the tip is nestled an inch within your entrance and then slams himself back into you. A lewd moan erupts from both of you as the stars decorate your vision. You arch your back, pressing your chest against his, eyes rolling back every time he sinks back into you. With each thrust and roll of your hips, he rubs himself against the spot that leaves ecstasy rushing through your veins.

“You’re so, agh, hot like this.” You can feel the pressure build in your stomach, the coil tightening with every brush of him against your sweet spot. “So hungry for my cock.”

“Feel so good in me,” you moan, watching as his dick slips in and out of your cunt. “Fill me up, ah, so good. Fuck, take what’s yours, baby.”

He visibly shudders at that before latching his lips on your perked nipple. His tongue laps around the perked bud on your breast, spare hand coming to knead the other before he swaps breasts.

You groan, dragging your nails down his back, sure to leave a mark. “Oh, fuck.”

Your eyes roll back as the head of his cock brushes roughly against the spot that has you seeing stars. He has your toes curling, his name coming out like a mantra as he ravishes your body, moaning into your neck. A knot of pleasure tightens, burning like a hot coil and he knows with the way you pulse around his dick that you’re so, very close.

You can taste the bits of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, but it’s still not enough. You need so much more and he hears it in your pleas.

“Puh—please,” you breathe as you feel him press his lips against your pulse. “Hard—oh, my God.” You barely get the words out of your mouth before he’s ploughing into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Ngh, like that, fuck. S-so good, baby. Feels so good.”

“Yeah,” he groans, biting your neck. “So good to me, fuck. Such a good fucking girl.” At that, you squeeze around him and he lets out another lewd moan. “You gonna cum?”

All you manage is a nod and a sharp breath of air. His hand slithers down your body to find your clit and he presses against it harshly, eliciting a hiss from you. It’s oversensitive from the multiple times he made you cum on his tongue, but he doesn’t care because he knows you love it. He’s quick to rub circles around the bud and smirks to himself at your vocal response.

“Don’t — ah — stop.” You feel the coil burn more, pleasure building in your body like rapid fire. So fucking close to your next release, even as the sensitive bud stings. “Gonna — ah — gonna cum.”

His lips are eager for yours, pressing against them in a searing, hot kiss as he tries to coax the orgasm from you with his sinful lips. You can taste yourself on him and hum. His release threatens to unravel before him, but he fights against it so he can feel you wrap around his cock when you cum. He lifts himself off you to admire the blissful look on your face as you slowly become undone before him.

“Pretty girl — ngh,” he whispers, hot breath fanning over your cheeks and you whimper. “All mine. Come — ah — for me, hm? Come all over my cock, baby.”

Sweat drips down both your bodies, your walls clenching around him as he fucks you hard. Every thrust leaves his head nudging against your sweet spot, clouding your vision white. A fire builds within you again, leaving you to gasp for air between every moan.

“Kook, I — ah, I can’t come—” Moan. “I can’t come again.”

Softly rubbing against your clit, he presses a chaste kiss on your lips. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good slut for me, tonight, baby. You can do it. Come around my cock for me.”

And with his words and one last thrust, the burning coil snaps, pleasure rushing through your body in euphoric waves. Your veins flood with ecstasy and he soon follows, his seed coating your walls. Overwhelming pleasure unravels within you both like a wildfire, spreading across your bodies as he continues his pace to ride out your highs. His lips find yours once again, pressing a lazy kiss against yours as you both ride out the last remnants of your orgasms.

Once he’s caught his breath, he slowly slips out of you, lifting himself to admire the way his seed spills out of your pretty cunt. You feel his cum spill out your cunt, down your thighs and onto the sheets beneath you.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he says aloud and your lips curl into a tired smile. “So dirty and full of my cum.”

He leaves the bed, heading towards the washroom to grab a warm cloth and you lay there, tired. Exhaustion seeps itself into your bones, lids heavy as they flutter shut. You don’t hear Jungkook return, but rather feel him when a warm cloth brushes against your swollen pussy, cleaning you up. He’s swift to clean you up the best he could before attending to himself and putting the rag away. Maneuvering over you, he brings the blanket over your bodies, nudging you to lay beside him.

“You were so good, baby,” he whispers as he pulls you closer towards him. “Always so good for me.”

“Mhm.”

He chuckles. “Are you tired?”

“Yea.” You nuzzle against his chest finding comfort in listening to his heartbeat. “I honestly could’ve knocked out after that first orgasm.”

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. “Sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

“We do?” You furrow your brows. “Why? What’s tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna help you pack your boxes so you can move in by the end of the week.” You laugh along with him, throwing a leg over his own as you get comfortable. “Are you sure? You really ready to move in?”

Unable to hide your smile, you press a chaste kiss to his chest. “Yea, I’m sure.”

"You’ll be stuck with me for a long time,” he hums, exhaustion washing over him. “I won’t be letting you go for a while.”

"You better not.” Your smile quickly turns to a frown when you finally notice. “Jungkook?”

“Yea.”

“I'm hungry.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jeon jugnkook #jungkook #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts scenario #bts #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook imagines #usersuhdays

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landinoandco · 3 years

Note

Hey could you do one with max verstappen, where the reader a fight about him not helping around the house (witch he doesnt do because he is just tired from working hard but the reader dont know) so they yell at max and he suddenly walks away but then they find him crying in bed, because hes overworked and feels like hes never gonna be good enough at being a driver and the readers boyfriend. And feels like he can only dissapoint the reader, his dad and cristian. But the reader comforts him. Tnx

Because I'm not good enough...

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: angsty

Word count: 2 k

Requests are open :)

You were sat at the dining room table, staring out at the empty seat in front of you. Your arms crossed across your chest and your lip in between your teeth. You had been sat there for an hour - in the grand scheme of things an hour didn’t seem like such a long time but it was his final warning and an hour was just long enough to allow for your anger to boil over.

Dinner was in the fridge - the same dinner you had cooked an hour ago, your phone lay screen up on the table - the same phone you used to call Max two hours and a half hours ago, he told you he was on his way home. Home whilst you were in the UK was 25 minutes away from the Redbull HQ. This was becoming a regular occurrence, some nights he would come home so late that you had already taken yourself to bed. The atmosphere in the house seemed to freeze over whenever he was around even though you were yet to come out of summer, there was something hanging over the pair of you - unspoken feelings and as of now a red hot anger that threatened to escape from your usually composed nature.

Ever since the championship had taken a turn in the favour of Redbull, Max had started to become much more distant. It started off with him not inviting you along to the races, leaving on the Wednesday before race weekend and sometimes not seeing him until the following Tuesday and that was on a stand alone race weekend. On the triple headers, it could be nearing two weeks until you two were spared 5 minutes alone and even then it was a brief conversation before he rushed back to the factory or to train.

You thought you knew what you signed up for and since yours and Max’s relationship and that was three years ago so you thought you had seen it all - been through it all with him, witnessed every high and every low. This was a new territory and you knew that if it wasn’t tackled soon -

The click of the door lock echoed in the hallway, you straightened in your seat - eyes locked ahead of you and your knee bouncing.

Max sighed loudly and wiped his hand over his face, it had been a long day - he had been at the factory up until Christian had invited him out to lunch, it was nice to catch up with his boss and Max felt like he owed the man so much; guiding him through the years that had led up to the moment they found themselves in. Max felt like over the past years he had matured as a person, sometimes still short tempered but being an F1 driver it wasn’t necessarily a bad trait. After his lunch with Christian, his dad had called him - the less said about the conversation the better. By the time you had called, the last thing he wanted to do was come home and risk upsetting you. He had taken himself on a run - to clear his head and focus on what he was going to say to you because he felt like something definitely needed to be said.

He also owed a lot to you, you had put up with so much over the years and standing by his side even when he had made a mistake - although you were very quick to tell him when he was in the wrong. You seemed to be on his level, a blunt and forward look at life - there was no time for dawdling about when you had things to be done. Life was short and there was no time to waste.

Recently however, he was putting so much pressure and stress on himself about work that the hours slipped away from him and so did the time spent with you. He felt the atmosphere change around the pair of you - as though he was always walking on thin ice, the cracks beginning to show. The guilt he felt was nothing like he had ever felt before, all he wanted to do was talk to you but he was scared of pushing you away - which is ironic because not talking and letting the pent up anger build up was having the same effect. He was never that good when it came to talking about how he felt - as much as he wanted to he felt as though he would be a burden and that he would put too much pressure on you. He could never tell you what he really felt like inside. It was embarrassing, he knew that a professional athlete should never feel what he felt. It weakened him and having weaknesses in a sport like Formula 1 was not an option.

Max shrugged his coat off and walked through to the main room of the apartment - the room where you were sat waiting to pounce as though he was your unsuspecting prey.

He offered a tired smile, in response he got a sneer. Swallowing hard, you felt the anger take over, like some monster escaping from a cage.

“I have been sitting here for an hour, Max -” You shot to your feet, pointing at the table, your voice cracked slightly. “For months, you’ve been leaving me - it’s me who’s been cooking for us both, cleaning, washing - everything, Max. By myself.” You were shouting now, your heart threatening to break free from your chest. Max just stood there, a blank expression on his face - his gaze fixed to the ground. “I don’t understand what went wrong, Max. We were happy, hell, we spoke to each other. Now, I’m alone. In fact, I may as well be alone if this doesn’t change.” The words had fallen out of your mouth before you had any time to consider them - or the consequences. Your eyes went round with shock and you fell back to your seat. A loud silence filled the room.

Max, too, had not expected the words that had initiated the silence. He opened his mouth, eyes still on the ground, then closed it again before raising his head and looking you dead in the eye.

“You don’t mean that.” He managed to mutter, barely being able to raise his voice any louder. He felt a tired emptiness, this was the last thing he had wanted to happen.

“That’s all you have to say to me.” You rounded on him again, angry tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“No - I -” He stuttered, then closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, “I just don’t think we should talk things through whilst you’re angry -” He saw you about to interject, when he raised his hands. “You have every right to be. That’s not what I’m saying. I think we should wait to talk about it so we don’t say things we are going to regret later.” Max could feel his throat constricting, he was battling to keep his emotions at bay.

You sniffed and nodded slowly, placing your head in your hands - hot tears escaping and shoulders tensed.

Max swallowed thickly, his eyes swimming with tears. He made a move and after no interruption left the room. He had only made it to the stairs before he collapsed, the fatigue getting the better of him. He was such an idiot, a fact he was certainly aware of now, how could he have let things get this bad. Did that make him a selfish person?

He couldn’t hold it in any longer, a harsh sob escaping from his mouth - fingers shaking and his head a loud mess.

As soon as Max had left the room, you had gotten up to get some water - when you paused, a sound catching your attention - a deep sounding sob. You waited, a line appeared between your brows. Slowly and carefully, you inched towards the door - waiting with baited breath for the sound again.

It was coming from the stairs and there was only one person it could be. Regret instantly pooled in the pit of your stomach, you hadn’t meant for him to cry. You were just so angry and he needed to know that.

“Max.” You called out softly, unsurprisingly there was no response. You went in the direction of the stairs and hunched over in front of you was your boyfriend - attempting to stifle his sobs. You rushed forwards, placing your arms around his shoulders and pulled his body into yours. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around your waist. You kissed the top of his head, stroking his hair as he continued to cry - you allowed him to empty his emotions out; some tears of your own betraying you entirely.

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Came a muffled voice. Pausing, you released your hold of him and placed your hands either side of his face - offering him a watery smile. Then, using your sleeves you wiped his tears away - he watched your every move, waiting for you to say something. When you didn’t, he braced himself - lips trembling; he knew it was now or never. He had to tell you how he really felt.

“I’m not good enough.” He stated simply, his eyes glossy. Your forehead furrowed. “I’m never going to be good enough to take the championship, I’m going to let everyone down. Everyone that has ever believed in me - it doesn’t matter what I do, how much work I put in - I’m never good enough. And you -” He paused, meeting your gaze, a lump forming in the back of your throat. “I keep letting you down, time and time again. I was the one who caused this, I’m never going to be good enough for you.”

“If you believe that -” You began, kissing the newly formed tears away, “Then I will eat your race shoe.” You moved to sit next to him on the stairs, pulling him into your side. “Why didn’t you tell me that’s how you felt.”

You felt Max shrug, the side of his head resting on yours. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of my problems, you already put up with so much.”

“I will always have time for you, Max.” Grasping his hand in yours, “You are enough, you are more than enough. You are Max Verstappen, the fastest, strongest guy I know.” You chuckled lightly, “I know it may sometimes feel like that and that’s ok. You are putting yourself through so much - maybe, it’s time to give some consideration for your personal life. It’s unhealthy to work all of the time - then we run into issues like these.” You spoke softly, almost whispering but you could tell he was hanging onto every word you spoke. “I love you, Max. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You admitted, turning your head to look at him. He chewed on his bottom lip, processing your words.

“I love you too, more than anything.” He murmured, placing his forehead on yours. You lifted your head slightly to leave a soft kiss on his nose, earning the corners of his lips to quirk up.

Closing your eyes, you relished being in his arms again, to have him close to you. You had missed it. You had missed him. Both of you knew you had a lot to work through, that it wouldn’t simply disappear but both of you were going to do it together. Hand in hand. And that was more than enough.

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