#i need to catch up on in the dark bc he is Great on that omg

[pucksandpower]

Until Next Time

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)

Mycenae, 1208 BC

The sun beats down mercilessly on the marble steps of the temple. You stand at the top, your white chiton billowing in the warm breeze. Your eyes scan the crowd gathered below, searching for one face among the sea of onlookers.

“Where is he?” You whisper, your heart pounding.

A firm hand grips your shoulder. “It’s time, princess,” your father’s voice rumbles behind you.

You turn to face him, eyes pleading. “Father, please. This can’t be the only way.”

The king’s face is a mask of stone, but his eyes betray a flicker of sorrow. “The gods have spoken. We must obey.”

As he speaks, a commotion erupts at the base of the temple steps. Your breath catches in your throat as you spot Max pushing through the crowd, his face contorted with desperation.

“No!” He shouts, his voice carrying over the murmur of the crowd. “You can’t do this!”

Two guards grab him, restraining his arms as he struggles against their grip.

“Let me go!” Max yells, his eyes locking with yours. “She’s innocent! Take me instead!”

You start to move towards him, but your father’s grip tightens. “Don’t,” he warns.

“Max,” you call out, your voice breaking. “It’s okay. This is my duty.”

Max shakes his head violently. “No, it’s not! This is madness!”

The high priest approaches, his ornate robes rustling as he walks. “The sacrifice must be made,” he intones. “The gods demand it.”

You feel a chill run down your spine despite the heat. The priest’s eyes are cold as he regards you.

“Please,” Max begs, still struggling against the guards. “There has to be another way. Let me speak to the oracle. Maybe-”

“Silence!” The priest snaps. “The decision has been made. The princess will ensure a bountiful harvest for our people.”

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. “Max, listen to me. I need you to be strong.”

His struggles subside slightly as he focuses on your words.

“Remember what we talked about?” You continue. “About the stars?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion for a moment before his eyes widen in recognition. “The cycle,” he breathes.

You nod, forcing a smile. “This isn’t the end. We’ll find each other again. I promise.”

“No,” Max shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t lose you. Not like this.”

The priest clears his throat impatiently. “We must proceed.”

Your father gently guides you towards the altar. You resist the urge to look back at Max, knowing it will only make this harder.

“Wait!” Max calls out. “Just ... just let me say goodbye. Please.”

The king hesitates, then nods to the guards. They release Max, who rushes up the steps towards you.

He reaches you, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life and every life to come.”

You lean into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his skin against yours. “I love you too. Always.”

Max’s lips crash into yours, desperate and salty with tears. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

Then rough hands are pulling you apart. Max struggles, but the guards drag him back down the steps.

“No!” He roars. “You can’t do this! She’s everything to me!”

You force yourself to look away, focusing on the altar before you. The priest approaches, a gleaming dagger in his hand.

“Oh great gods,” he begins to chant. “Accept this offering and bless our lands.”

You close your eyes, trying to block out Max’s anguished cries. You think of stars, of cycles, of promises of reunion.

The dagger plunges, and pain explodes through your body. As darkness creeps in at the edges of your vision, you hear Max’s voice, raw with grief.

“I’ll find you,” he vows. “In the next life, and the next, and the next. We’ll be together again. I swear it.”

As your consciousness fades, you cling to that promise. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It’s just the beginning of a much longer story.

Your last thought before the world goes black is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and determination. Somehow, you know that this is not goodbye — it’s just until next time.

London, 1542

The heavy oak door of your chambers creaks open, and you look up from your embroidery, heart leaping at the sight of Max slipping inside. His eyes dart nervously around the room before settling on you.

“My lady,” he whispers urgently, crossing the room in quick strides. “We must speak.”

You set aside your needlework, rising to meet him. “What is it? You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

He takes your hands in his, his touch sending a familiar thrill through you despite the gravity in his expression. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. I’ve heard whispers in the court ...”

Your breath catches. “What kind of whispers?”

Max’s jaw clenches. “Accusations. Terrible ones. They’re saying you’ve been unfaithful to the king.”

You gasp, shaking your head vehemently. “That’s absurd! I would never-”

“I know,” Max interrupts, squeezing your hands. “But the truth matters little when it comes to Henry’s jealousy. You know how he is.”

A chill runs down your spine as you remember the fate of the king’s previous wives. “What am I to do?”

Max’s eyes blaze with determination. “We’ll run away. Tonight. I have friends who can help us reach the coast. From there, we can sail to France or-”

The sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor cuts him off. You both freeze, staring at the door in mounting dread.

“Quick,” you hiss, pushing Max towards a tapestry-covered alcove. “Hide!”

He resists for a moment. “I won’t leave you-”

“You must,” you insist. “If they find you here, it will only make things worse.”

Reluctantly, Max ducks behind the tapestry just as the door bursts open. The king’s guards pour in, led by Thomas Cromwell himself.

“My lady,” Cromwell says with a cold smile. “I’m afraid you must come with us.”

You lift your chin, summoning every ounce of royal dignity. “On what grounds, Lord Cromwell?”

His smile doesn’t waver. “Treason, my lady. His Majesty has evidence of your ... indiscretions.”

“That’s impossible,” you protest. “I’ve been nothing but faithful to the king.”

Cromwell gestures to the guards. “Search the room. Thoroughly.”

Your heart pounds as they begin tearing through your belongings. You silently pray that Max remains hidden and undetected.

“This is outrageous,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “I demand to speak to the king himself.”

“His Majesty has no desire to see you,” Cromwell replies. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

One of the guards approaches, holding a folded piece of parchment. “My lord, we found this hidden in her jewelry box.”

Cromwell snatches it, his eyes scanning the contents. His smirk widens. “Well, well. A love letter, it seems. Quite damning, wouldn’t you agree?”

You shake your head in disbelief. “That’s not mine. I’ve never seen it before!”

“A poor defense, my lady,” Cromwell tuts. “Come now, we mustn’t keep the Tower waiting.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max bursts from his hiding place. “Stop!” He shouts. “She’s innocent!”

Cromwell’s eyebrows raise in mock surprise. “And who might you be, young man?”

Max stands tall, his gaze unwavering. “I can vouch for the queen’s innocence.”

“Can you now?” Cromwell’s tone is dangerously soft. “And how, pray tell, would you know such a thing?”

You see the trap too late. “Max, don’t-”

But he’s already speaking. “Because I’ve been watching over her. Protecting her. I would know if she had been unfaithful.”

Cromwell’s eyes glitter with triumph. “Watching over her, you say? How ... intimate. Guards, seize him as well.”

“No!” You cry out as the guards grab Max. “He’s done nothing wrong!”

“On the contrary,” Cromwell replies. “He’s just confessed to an inappropriate relationship with the queen. That’s treason, my dear.”

Max struggles against the guards. ���It’s not like that! I love her, yes, but we’ve never-”

“Enough!” Cromwell snaps. “Take them both to the Tower. His Majesty will decide their fate.”

As the guards drag you from the room, your eyes meet Max’s. In that moment, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve been here before, somehow. Torn apart by forces beyond your control.

“It’s happening again,” Max says softly, his eyes wide with realization.

You nod, a sad smile touching your lips. “The cycle continues.”

“What are you two babbling about?” Cromwell demands.

Neither of you answer. What could you say that he would understand?

As you’re led through the winding corridors of the palace, Max’s voice carries to you. “I’ll find a way to save you. I swear it.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you call back, your voice catching.

“I kept the last one, didn’t I?” He replies. “I found you again.”

Memories flood your mind — hazy images of another life, another time. A temple, a sacrifice, a vow made in desperation.

“So you did,” you whisper.

The journey to the Tower passes in a blur. Before you know it, you’re being locked in a cold, damp cell. Through the small barred window, you can see the executioner’s block in the courtyard below.

Days pass. You pace your cell, alternating between fear and a strange sense of calm. This isn’t the end, you remind yourself. Somehow, you know it to be true.

When they come for you, you hold your head high. As you’re led to the block, you scan the crowd, searching for Max’s face. You spot him, restrained by guards, his face a mask of anguish.

“I love you,” he mouths.

“Until next time,” you reply silently.

As you kneel at the block, you close your eyes. You think of stars and cycles, of promises kept across lifetimes. The axe falls, and darkness descends.

Your last conscious thought is a mixture of sorrow and hope. This chapter may be ending, but your story with Max is far from over. In another time, another place, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, and the cycle continues.

Florence, 1633

The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across the cluttered study. You pace nervously, your skirts swishing against the worn floorboards. Max hunches over his desk, quill scratching furiously across parchment.

“Max,” you plead, “please reconsider. It’s not too late to recant.”

He looks up, his eyes bright with fervor. “I can’t, my love. The truth is too important.”

You move to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “More important than your life?”

Max covers your hand with his, his touch warm and familiar. “Some truths are worth dying for.”

“And what about living for?” You counter. “What about us?”

He stands, pulling you into an embrace. “Everything I do, I do for us. For a world where we can live freely, without the shackles of ignorance.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent of ink and parchment. “I fear those shackles are stronger than you think.”

A sharp knock at the door makes you both jump. Max moves to answer it, but you grab his arm.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “It could be them.”

Max’s jaw sets stubbornly. “If it is, hiding won’t change anything.”

He strides to the door and throws it open. A young man stands there, panting heavily.

“Master,” he gasps. “They’re coming. The Inquisition. You must flee!”

Max’s face pales, but his voice remains steady. “Thank you for the warning, Giovanni. You should go before they arrive.”

The young man nods and disappears into the night. Max turns to you, his expression grim.

“You should go too,” he says softly. “There’s no reason for both of us to face their wrath.”

You shake your head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Please,” Max implores. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you because of me.”

“And I couldn’t bear to abandon you,” you retort. “We’re in this together, remember?”

A ghost of a smile touches Max’s lips. “Always.”

You help him gather his most important papers and instruments, working quickly in the oppressive silence. As Max secures the last of his writings, you hear the ominous sound of marching feet approaching.

“It’s too late,” you breathe.

Max squares his shoulders. “Then we face them with dignity.”

The door bursts open, and armored men pour into the small study. At their head is Cardinal Bellarmine, his face a mask of righteous anger.

“Apostate,” he intones. “You stand accused of heresy against the Holy Church.”

Max steps forward, his voice calm. “I stand accused of seeking the truth, Your Eminence.”

The Cardinal’s eyes narrow. “You spread dangerous lies. You claim the Earth is not the center of God’s creation!”

“I claim only what the evidence suggests,” Max counters. “The movements of the heavens themselves tell us-”

“Blasphemy!” Bellarmine roars. “You would elevate your flawed observations above the word of God?”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “My lord Cardinal, surely God gave us minds to seek understanding. How can the pursuit of knowledge be heresy?”

Bellarmine’s gaze snaps to you. “And who is this who dares to question the Church’s judgment?”

Max steps protectively in front of you. “Leave her out of this. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She defends a heretic,” the Cardinal sneers. “That alone is cause for suspicion.”

You feel a chill run down your spine, but you stand your ground. “I defend a good man who seeks only to understand the wonders of God’s creation.”

Bellarmine waves dismissively. “Take them both. We’ll sort out her involvement later.”

As the guards move to seize you, Max erupts into action. He grabs a heavy tome from his desk and hurls it at the nearest guard, then pushes you towards the window.

“Run!” He shouts. “I’ll hold them off!”

You hesitate, torn between fleeing and staying by his side. In that moment of indecision, a guard grabs you roughly by the arm.

“No!” Max cries out, lunging towards you.

Another guard intercepts him, slamming the butt of his halberd into Max’s stomach. He crumples to the ground, gasping for air.

“Stop!” You plead. “We’ll come peacefully. Just don’t hurt him.”

Bellarmine smirks. “A wise decision. Though I’m afraid it’s too late for leniency.”

As the guards bind your hands, you lock eyes with Max. There’s a strange, sad recognition in his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I thought this time would be different.”

You shake your head, a bittersweet smile on your lips. “It’s not your fault. It never is.”

Bellarmine looks between you, confusion evident on his face. “What nonsense is this?”

Neither of you answer.

You’re led from the study, through the torch-lit streets to the forbidding walls of the Inquisition’s headquarters. As you’re separated and thrown into different cells, Max’s voice carries to you.

“I’ll find you again. I swear it.”

“In this life or the next,” you call back, your voice breaking.

Days blur together in your dank cell. You’re questioned relentlessly about Max’s work, about your involvement. You reveal nothing, clinging to the hope that your silence might somehow spare him.

When they finally come for you, you know it’s not good news. You’re led to a small courtyard where a pyre has been erected. Your heart sinks as you see Max already tied to the stake, his face bruised but defiant.

“Heathen,” Bellarmine proclaims, “you have been found guilty of heresy. Do you repent your sins?”

Max’s eyes find yours in the crowd. “My only sin,” he says clearly, “is loving truth more than dogma.”

The Cardinal’s face darkens. “Then may God have mercy on your soul. Light the pyre.”

As the flames begin to lick at Max’s feet, you can’t contain yourself any longer. You break free from your guards and run towards the pyre.

“No!” You scream. “Max!”

He looks at you, his eyes full of love and sorrow. “Until next time, my love. We’ll get it right someday.”

The guards grab you, dragging you back as the flames engulf Max. His agonized cries pierce the air, but his gaze never leaves yours.

As the light fades from his eyes, you feel a piece of your soul shatter. But deep within, a tiny spark of hope remains. This isn’t the end, you tell yourself. It can’t be.

Somewhere, somewhen, you’ll find each other again. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and your love endures beyond death itself.

Atlantic Ocean, 1912

The grand ballroom of the Titanic thrums with life, an orchestra playing a lively waltz as couples twirl across the polished floor. You stand at the edge of the crowd, your gloved hands fidgeting with your beaded gown. Your eyes scan the room, searching for one face in particular.

“Looking for someone?” A familiar voice asks behind you.

You turn, a smile lighting up your face as you see Max, dashing in his tailored suit. “There you are! I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost.”

Max grins, offering you his arm. “Even on a ship this size? Never. Though I must admit, I did take a wrong turn or two.”

You laugh, taking his arm. “Well, I’m glad you found your way eventually. I’ve been dying to dance with you all evening.”

As Max leads you onto the dance floor, a strange sense of déjà vu washes over you. You’ve danced with him before, you think. In grand halls and humble taverns, across centuries ...

“What’s that look for?” Max asks, pulling you from your reverie as he places a hand on your waist.

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing. Just ... happy, I suppose.”

He beams at you as you begin to waltz. “As am I. Being here with you, it feels ... right. Like everything’s fallen into place.”

You nod, leaning into him slightly. “I know exactly what you mean.”

As you dance, the world seems to fade away. It’s just you and Max, moving in perfect synchronicity. But the spell is broken as a violent shudder runs through the ship.

Max steadies you as you stumble. “What was that?”

Around you, other passengers are looking around in confusion. The music has stopped, the musicians exchanging worried glances.

“I’m not sure,” you reply, a sense of unease growing in your stomach. “Perhaps we should-”

Your words are cut off as a ship’s officer bursts into the ballroom. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We’ve struck an iceberg, but there’s no immediate danger. As a precaution, we ask that you all put on life vests and make your way to the boat deck.”

A ripple of nervous chatter sweeps through the crowd. Max’s grip on your hand tightens.

“We should go,” he says urgently. “Now.”

You nod, allowing him to lead you through the increasingly panicked throng. As you make your way through the corridors, the ship’s list becomes more pronounced.

“This is bad,” Max mutters, helping you navigate a particularly steep section. “Much worse than they’re letting on.”

You reach your cabin, quickly donning life vests over your evening wear. As you step back into the corridor, you’re met with a tide of frightened passengers.

“We need to get to the boat deck,” Max says, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. “Stay close to me.”

You push through the crowd, the ship’s groans and creaks growing louder with each passing moment. When you finally reach the deck, chaos greets you. Officers are struggling to maintain order as passengers clamor for spots in the too-few lifeboats.

“Women and children first!” An officer shouts over the din.

Max turns to you, his face pale but determined. “You need to get on a boat.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Not without you.”

“Please,” he begs, cupping your face in his hands. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

A memory flashes through your mind — Max saying those same words in another time, another place. Always trying to save you.

“And I couldn’t bear to leave you,” you insist. “We stay together. No matter what.”

Max’s eyes search yours for a long moment before he nods. “Together, then.”

As the night wears on, it becomes clear that there won’t be enough lifeboats for everyone. You and Max help where you can, assisting women and children into the boats. The temperature drops, your breath visible in the frigid air.

“I think that’s the last one,” Max says as you watch the final lifeboat disappear into the darkness.

You look around the rapidly tilting deck. Those who remain are a mix of resigned, terrified, and in denial.

“What do we do now?” You ask, your voice small.

Max takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “We face it together. Like we always have.”

As the ship’s stern begins to rise, you and Max make your way towards the railing. The screech of twisting metal fills the air as the Titanic starts to break apart.

“Max,” you say, your voice trembling, “I’m scared.”

He pulls you close, his arms strong around you. “I know. But remember, this isn’t the end. Not really.”

You look up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you feel it?” He asks. ���The familiarity? Like we’ve been here before?”

As you stare into his eyes, flashes of memory assault you. A temple in ancient Greece. A Tudor court. A Renaissance study. Always you and Max. Always torn apart.

“The cycle,” you whisper.

Max nods, a sad smile on his face. “We’ll get it right someday. I promise.”

The ship lurches violently, and you cling to each other as you’re thrown into the icy Atlantic. The shock of the cold water drives the breath from your lungs.

“Max!” You gasp, struggling to keep your head above water.

“I’m here,” he calls back, swimming towards you. “Hold on to me.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, your limbs already growing numb from the cold. Around you, the cries of other passengers pierce the night.

“It’s so cold,” you murmur, your teeth chattering.

Max holds you tighter. “I know, love. Just stay with me.”

As the minutes tick by, the cries around you grow fewer. You can feel your strength ebbing, your grip on Max weakening.

“Hey,” Max says, his voice hoarse. “Stay awake. Look at the stars with me.”

You force your eyes open, gazing up at the crystal-clear sky. “They’re beautiful,” you manage.

“Just like you,” Max replies. “In every life, in every time.”

You smile weakly. “You always were a charmer.”

“And you always saw right through me,” he chuckles, the sound turning into a cough.

As your vision begins to dim, you summon the last of your strength to speak. “Max? Promise you’ll find me again?”

His lips, blue with cold, press against your forehead. “Always. In this life and the next, and all the ones after.”

The cold fades, replaced by a spreading warmth. As consciousness slips away, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the promise of reunion.

The wheel turns. The cycle continues. And somewhere, in another time, another place, two souls prepare to find each other once more.

Washington DC, 1968

The air is thick with tension and the acrid smell of tear gas. You stand at the front of the crowd, your hand tightly gripping a homemade sign that reads “MAKE LOVE, NOT WAR.” The chants of the protesters around you swell and ebb like waves crashing against the shore of the Lincoln Memorial.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Max pushing his way through the crowd, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You smile, relief washing over you. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t make it.”

Max reaches you, his hand finding yours. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away. Though the police barricades nearly did.”

You squeeze his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. This feels ... important. Like we’re on the brink of something.”

He nods, his eyes scanning the growing crowd. “I know what you mean. It’s like the whole world is holding its breath.”

As if on cue, a new chant starts up. “Hey, hey, LBJ! How many kids did you kill today?”

You join in, your voice blending with the thousands around you. Max’s deeper tone resonates beside you, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the autumn chill.

Suddenly, there’s a commotion at the edge of the crowd. You stand on tiptoe, trying to see what’s happening.

“What is it?” Max asks, concern etching his features.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. “It looks like ... oh no.”

A line of police officers in riot gear is advancing on the crowd, batons at the ready.

Max’s grip on your hand tightens. “We should fall back. This could get ugly.”

But you stand your ground, shaking your head. “No. We can’t let them intimidate us. We have a right to be here, to make our voices heard.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice tight with worry. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

As the police line gets closer, tensions in the crowd rise. Someone throws a bottle, and it shatters at the feet of an officer. In an instant, chaos erupts.

“Disperse immediately!” A voice booms over a megaphone. “This is an unlawful assembly!”

But the crowd doesn’t disperse. If anything, the chants grow louder, more defiant. You feel Max tugging at your arm.

“Come on,” he urges. “We’ve made our point. Let’s go before-”

His words are cut off by a loud bang. For a moment, you think it’s a firecracker. Then you see the tear gas canister arcing through the air.

“Gas!” Someone shouts, and panic ripples through the crowd.

Max pulls you close, covering your mouth and nose with his bandana. “We need to move, now!”

You nod, coughing as the acrid gas begins to sting your eyes. Together, you push through the panicked crowd, trying to reach the edge of the park.

But the police are closing in from all sides. You see batons swinging, hear the cries of pain and anger from your fellow protesters.

“This way,” Max says, pulling you towards a gap in the police line.

You’re almost there when you hear a scream behind you. Turning, you see a young woman on the ground, an officer standing over her with his baton raised.

Before you can think, you’re moving towards them. “Stop!” You yell. “Leave her alone!”

“Y/N, no!” Max calls after you, but you’re already out of his reach.

You throw yourself between the fallen woman and the officer, your arms outstretched. “Please,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “She’s not a threat. We’re peaceful protesters.”

The officer hesitates, his baton still raised. For a moment, you think he might listen. Then you see his eyes harden behind his visor.

“I said disperse!” He shouts, bringing the baton down.

You close your eyes, bracing for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, you hear a grunt of pain and open your eyes to see Max in front of you, taking the blow meant for you.

“Max!” You cry out as he crumples to the ground.

You drop to your knees beside him, cradling his head. “Max, can you hear me?”

He groans, his eyes fluttering open. “Are you okay?” He asks, his voice weak.

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “I’m fine. Why did you do that?”

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun, could I?”

Despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “You idiot,” you say fondly.

The moment is shattered by another round of tear gas canisters landing nearby. The acrid smoke billows around you, making it hard to breathe.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, trying to help Max to his feet.

But as you stand, you feel a sharp pain in your side. Looking down, you see a growing red stain on your shirt.

“Y/N?” Max’s voice sounds far away. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

You stumble, your legs giving out. Max catches you, lowering you gently to the ground.

“Oh God,” he says, his face pale with shock. “You’ve been hit.”

You look down again, seeing the bullet embedded in your side. The pain is distant, almost unreal.

“It’s not so bad,” you try to reassure him, but your voice comes out weak and shaky.

Max presses his hand to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Help!” He shouts. “We need a medic!”

But his cries are lost in the chaos around you. The world seems to be fading, growing dim at the edges.

“Max,” you whisper, reaching up to touch his face. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? We’re going to get through this.”

You smile sadly, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over you. “We always say that, don’t we?”

Max’s brow furrows in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Every time,” you murmur, your strength fading. “We always think this time will be different.”

Understanding dawns in Max’s eyes, along with a deep, aching sorrow. “The cycle,” he whispers.

You nod weakly. “But it’s okay. We’ll get another chance.”

“No,” Max says, his voice breaking. “Not again. Please, Y/N, stay with me.”

But you can feel yourself slipping away. The pain is gone now, replaced by a spreading warmth.

“Find me again,” you breathe, your eyes starting to close. “Promise me.”

Max’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “I promise. In this life or the next, I’ll always find you.”

As consciousness fades, your last thought is of Max’s eyes, filled with love and the weight of lifetimes. The wheel turns, the cycle continues, and somewhere, two souls prepare for yet another chance at forever.

Monaco, 2024

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. You’re curled up against Max, his arm draped protectively over your waist. The steady rhythm of his breathing is a comforting constant, one you’ve grown accustomed to over the years.

A gentle weight lands on the bed, followed by a soft meow. You open your eyes to see Jimmy padding across the duvet.

“Morning, Jimmy,” you whisper, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. He purrs contentedly, settling down in the small space between you and Max.

The movement stirs Max from his slumber. He blinks sleepily, a smile spreading across his face as he focuses on you. “Good morning, schatje,” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Morning, champ. Sleep well?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Always do with you by my side.”

As if on cue, another weight lands on the bed. Sassy makes her presence known with a demanding meow.

Max chuckles, reaching over to pet her. “Good morning to you too, princess.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I think someone’s jealous of all the attention Jimmy’s getting.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Max says, scooping Sassy up and placing her on his chest. She immediately starts kneading, purring loudly.

You watch them with a fond smile, a wave of contentment washing over you. “I love this,” you say softly. “Just ... all of this.”

Max turns his head to look at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Me too. Sometimes I can hardly believe it’s real, you know?”

You nod, understanding completely. “I know what you mean. It’s like ... we’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“Lifetimes,” Max agrees, a hint of something ancient in his gaze.

You both fall silent for a moment, lost in memories that feel more like dreams — flashes of other lives, other times, always reaching for each other but never quite able to hold on.

Jimmy stretches, breaking the spell. You laugh as he nearly pushes Sassy off Max’s chest in the process.

“Alright, you two,” Max says, gently moving the cats aside. “I think it’s time for breakfast.”

As if understanding his words, both cats leap off the bed and head for the door, meowing insistently.

You groan, burying your face in Max’s shoulder. “Five more minutes?”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know they won’t let us rest until they’re fed.”

“True,” you sigh, reluctantly sitting up. “I suppose we should get up anyway. Don’t you have that interview today?”

Max nods, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Yeah, in a couple of hours. Nothing too intense though, just a quick chat about the next race.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, stretching. “Want me to make coffee while you feed the furry overlords?”

“Sounds perfect,” Max says, getting up and pulling on a t-shirt. He pauses at the door, looking back at you with a soft smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest, the same feeling you get every time he looks at you like that. “You might have mentioned it once or twice,” you tease. “But I never get tired of hearing it.”

Max crosses the room in two quick strides, pulling you into a deep kiss. When he pulls back, you’re both a little breathless.

“I love you,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “More than I ever thought possible.”

You cup his face in your hands, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “I love you too, Max. Always have, always will.”

A loud meow from the hallway breaks the moment. You both laugh, the spell broken but the warmth lingering.

“Duty calls,” Max says with a wink, heading out to tend to the cats.

You make your way to the kitchen, starting the coffee maker and pulling out mugs. As the rich aroma fills the air, you can hear Max in the other room, talking to the cats as he fills their bowls.

“There you go, Jimmy. Easy, Sassy, there’s plenty for both of you.”

You smile to yourself, struck once again by how perfect this all feels. It’s not just the quiet moments like this morning — it’s the way Max lights up when he talks about racing, the pride in his eyes when he brings home another trophy. It’s the way he holds you after a particularly rough day, or the sound of his laughter when you’re goofing around together.

Max joins you in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you pour the coffee. “Smells amazing,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck.

You lean back into him, savoring the moment. “The coffee or me?”

“Both,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You turn in his arms, handing him his mug. “So, what’s on the agenda after your interview?”

Max takes a sip of coffee, thinking. “Not much, actually. I was thinking maybe we could have a quiet day in? Watch a movie, order takeout?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, your smile widening. “I’ll even let you pick the movie this time.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Even if it’s another racing documentary?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Even then. Though I reserve the right to fall asleep on your shoulder if it gets too technical.”

“Deal,” Max grins, pulling you close for another kiss.

As you stand there in the kitchen, coffee in hand and cats weaving between your legs, you’re struck by a profound sense of rightness. This is what you’ve been searching for, life after life. This quiet, domestic bliss with the man you love.

“What are you thinking about?” Max asks, noticing your thoughtful expression.

You smile, leaning into him. “Just ... how happy I am. How perfect this all is.”

Max’s arms tighten around you. “It really is, isn’t it? Sometimes I wonder if I’m dreaming.”

You pinch his arm lightly, laughing at his mock-offended expression. “Definitely not dreaming.”

“Good,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. “Because I never want to wake up from this.”

As you stand there in the morning light, surrounded by the life you’ve built together, you silently thank whatever force has finally allowed you and Max to find your happily ever after.

The wheel has turned, the cycle has ended, and at last, your souls have found their home.

[pseudowho]

okay here’s me getting all cocky and confident because you answered my ask once (ily for that seriously i think i screamed and fainted and sobbed and climbed up the walls a little) and once again asking you for….. for crumbs………. so my horny self was sitting and thinking…………… nanami sees you reading absolute filth and porn and you end up in biig trouble.. (i.e him doing that exact thing to you 😭) or perhaps you going up to nanami after reading absolute filth and being all needy with him bcs that straight porn made you a liittle…….. yk… 🌚🌚🌚

anyways i literally love you and ur my favorite writer ever and im gonna stop now before i burst

SMUT [smuht] (noun)

In which Nanami Kento catches you reading dirty literature...and punishes you with a performative reading.

Warnings: The anon who keeps targeting me like this needs a warning label...but otherwise: roleplay, erotic literature (*laughs and laughs in Tumblr*) being read to you while you're systematically destroyed, performative Bad!Nanami, Kento fucks you wearing a mask and leather gloves, Pleasure Dom!Kento who gets lost in the sauce, reader way out of her depth, bondage, the usual spicy goodness, couple of cheeky movie references

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The one she knew only as the Man in the Mask swept over to her, delighting in her capture, having evaded him for so long.

"Ahhh..." he sighed, his breath sweeping over the swell of her breasts, and sending shivers down her spine. "Finally...the little mouse who has wreaked havoc on my dreams for too many lonely nights. How does it feel? To be trapped here with me like this?"

Her heart stalled in her chest, and she gasped, his grazing touch to her belly leaving embers in its wake. The Man in the Mask saw her nipples pebble beneath her shirt, and felt something snap inside him as he loomed over her with a whisper; "I know. I feel it too."

With little warning, he lowered his barely covered mouth to her neck, hungry against her, and--

The door opened, and you leapt out of your skin, dropping your phone to the floor. You sat bolt upright in bed, your other hand coming up guiltily from beneath the covers as Kento leaned into the bedroom to greet you. You interrupted him.

"You're home early," you said, offering an unconvincing smile. Kento looked at you, flatly. He let the statement hang for a moment. His shrewd eyes flicked, taking in the glossy subtleties he saw from you only in foreplay.

"...well I thought you'd be pleased, but I'll just go back then shall I--"

You hesitated, words caught in your throat. Your eyes flickered to your phone. So did Kento's. His eyes narrowed.

"...what are you read--"

"Nothing! It's nothing." You lied, unconvincing. You both hesitated for a moment more, before Kento darted. You cursed at him for being faster than you, and Kento's fingers closed around your phone, sitting beside you on the bed in one swift movement. You smothered a pillow over your face, screaming silently, wanting the duvet to grow great maws and swallow you whole.

Kento read silently for a moment, scrolling, before reading aloud; "...she didn't want to fight anymore, as his fingers slid between her puffy lips...goodness me...his cock strained against the fabric of his clothes, begging for attention...I bet it did..."

You had begun to crawl away down the bed, just a maggot, unworthy of the sun and all its glories.

You felt a hand clasp around your ankle, and you squeaked as Kento dragged you back up the bed, without even taking his eyes off your phone.

"I don't think so, where are you going--"

"--oh god Kento just give me something for the cringe and let me die--"

"--no no no I'm blessed to be a part of my wife's interests--"

"--I am less than human, we need a divorce, I can't look you in the eye ever again--"

Kento scoffed, dark and derisive. "As if I'd let you divorce me. As if you'd even want to...now, where did I put that..."

Kento stood, still holding your phone as he rummaged in his dresser. You laid flat to the bed, trying to wiggle away again, still embarrassingly wet, your mortification laced with undeniable arousal.

"Stay exactly where you are, or I'll damn well make you."

You stopped. You looked up at Kento, unusually meek, as he approached you. He stood by the bed, looming and powerful, a god made flesh. He unbuttoned his shirt to the navel, not bothering to remove his harness. He undid his belt with a clink-clink. He let his tie hang loose...and pulled a black balaclava down to beneath his collar. He finished off with a pair of soft, black leather gloves.

Something imploded inside you; a dial-up noise in your mind. Kento prowled over to you, looming over you and chasing you up the bed, caging you beneath him, and reading through the smut on your phone screen.

"Be honest," Kento read aloud, his honey-brown eyes swirling with something altogether darker and more dangerous, "if you'd wanted to escape me...you could have."

You panted, breathless, your pupils blown into inky black as you lay splayed beneath Kento. You couldn't help but be captivated, lost in his insidious pull. You felt your heartbeat between your legs.

"Did you stay because you dream of me, too?" Kento intoned. You bit the poisoned apple, trembling as you nodded up at him. "Did you stay...because you wondered if hatred was as erotic a passion as love?"

"--Kento, I-- let me go, I--"

"That's the spirit." Laughed Kento, his voice booming through you, the vibrations crackling across every nerve, and you whimpered. Kento grasped your hands together with his own, gloved and powerful, pinning them above your head with the whole weight of his body. He pulled his tie loose with the hand holding your phone.

"I can't let you leave...not now. Fuck...you have no idea what you do to me, do you?" Kento growled. Being the villain seemed so effortless to him. Your safe word had never been further from your mind, your attempts to leave so paltry and insincere. The way Kento looked down at you, waiting to see if you would make him stop, sent shivers down your spine. Kento released his tie, eyes skimming across your phone for confirmation.

"I'd apologise, for trapping you here like this..." Kento intoned, tying your bound wrists to the head of the bed as you squirmed, crying out in anguish, "...but I'll show you...how you've craved my touch, just as I have craved yours." You strained against the bonds, in just the silky chemise you wore for bed, and it didn't take much for your breasts to fall free of the fine little straps.

In truth, Kento had never been harder in his life. Seeing you battle against primal desire beneath him, feeling your half-hearted embarrassed squirms brushing your bare mound against his aching, thick cock...and your nipples, hard as diamonds and covered by a thin veneer of lace. His breaths were heavy, chest heaving as he continued his performative reading.

"Just one taste, and we can return to how it was before." Kento groaned, his mouth suckling at your neck, licking, tasting, biting. You cringed against the assault on your senses, afraid to lose yourself to such diabolical pleasure. Kento pinned your bucking hips down with his own, the tip of his cock trapped beneath his waistband against his belly. "Just once...and we can rest easy at night, knowing how it feels for me to spend myself inside you."

You keened, mewling as Kento rested the phone on the pillow beside your head, and took your nipple into his mouth, ragging it around beneath his tongue with a fractured growl. Your head spun with the weight of him, totally captured, so wildly out of control. The suckling pleasure he gave to your nipples, connected in a fine thread to your clit, making it pulse with vicarious bliss.

"I can't...can't take it anymore...Ken--" You moaned, squeaking as his teeth closed in barely hinged warning around your breast.

"Unless it's to tell me to fuck you, I won't have you mewl like a kitten at me any longer." Kento rumbled against your breast, wet with his spit and the marks he left behind as he took what he was owed. "I hope you can take it. I'm...no small man. If you are ruined, after, I know you will bear the scars with grace, just as you have bore your hatred of me."

You were already so steeped in the hot rush of being pleasured, you did not notice how Kento's eyes glowered, lathering down your body and darting occasionally back to your phone. He continued his pilgrimage down your body. Kento growled in frustration at the chemise blocking him, and he rucked it up, spitting curses as you squeaked, wriggling against him.

"At least fight like you mean it." Kento laughed, and you blushed, eyes squeezed shut, mortified by how obviously faked your resistance was. Kento kissed his way down your belly, settling at your mound. He hovered, silent, giving your desperate clit nought but the breath from his lips.

"Do you want my fingers...or my mouth?" You whimpered again, babbling nonsense, such a rough and ruined heroine. Kento laughed again, dark and delicious, raising his mask just enough to free his mouth. "No words? No matter. You shall have both."

With little warning, Kento sunk his tongue between your folds, ragging his mouth and nose from side to side again to bury himself in the heat of you. You cried out as he growled into your heat, hitting a high note as he sunk two thick, gloves fingers into your fluttering pussy, slamming inside all the way to his knuckles.

Kento swore against your pussy, grunting and moaning as he lapped at your clit and entrance with animalistic rage. Quite canonically to his role, his cock wept against his belly, pre-cum leaking down onto his waistband until the fabric was cloying and sticky, the friction against his tip sending him spiralling. He couldn't help but fuck against the bed as you melted beneath him, writhing against his tongue.

Panting, letting his gloved fingers fuck into you and imagining it was his cock instead, Kento chuckled against your clit, at just how easily he had snapped. He pulled his fingers out of you for a moment, wickedly obsessed by the stark contrast of your creamy white arousal on the black leather.

He could smell you on the balaclava, the fabric over his nose soaking with your essence. Kento felt lightheaded with the blooming, heady scent of you. His cock twitched, aching and neglected, and so close to spilling thick spurts of seed all over its owner.

You risked looking down for just a moment. The eyes of a villain pierced through you, as Kento licked his gloves clean, not breaking eye contact once. You whimpered. He laughed, and curled his fingers back into you, continuing his relentless attack on your poor, aching cunt. Your moans reached a fever pitch, and Kento felt the creep of his own orgasm through his belly as he rutted against the bed with total abandon.

"Sing for me." He groaned, lifting your hips off the bed as he knelt, sucking your clit into his mouth in a devastating final move. You tipped violently over the edge, bucking against his tongue and crying his name, a stream of nonsensical babbles. Kento was quite sure you came harder than the girl in the story.

By the time you came back to earth, being licked in slow, languid movements through your peak, you saw Kento kneeling between your legs, stroking his cock in long, jerking pumps.

"You've reduced me to this." Kento forced, his teeth gritted and his mask back in place over his mouth. "To this...this boy, fucking his own fist just from the taste of you." Kento cursed, his gloved fist wet with pre-cum, cracking his neck from side to side and growling through his lurid tale. You lay, fucked out, bound, a fascinated by how Kento's whiskey-rich voice could fill you with fumes, warm and drunk one minute, but cold and piercing the next. You swung, manoeuvred across his harsh dichotomy.

Kento loomed over you, trapping you beneath him again, blocking the light from your eyes, a bad moon rising. "You did this to me." He hissed, accusatory in his possession of you. "You started this sordid fight. But I'll finish it. No more fisting my cock at night just to the thought of you. No more dreaming about bending you to my will."

You felt Kento's tip press through your entrance, thick and insistent enough that you squirmed up the bed, crying out as he yanked you back, his hands closing around your waist. Kento plaited his fingers in your tied hands, the ghost of affection, and readying himself to slam into your quivering heat. He was falling apart, he could barely contain himself, overcome by the raw power of making you pliable, shaping you to his desires--

Kento whispered in your ear, his voice shaking, gravelly; "And when you submit...know that it was entirely your fault."

You felt your delicate petals forced aside, crying out to be filled to the brim by Kento in one slick thrust. Kento could barely suppress a roar beneath his mask, throwing his head back in ecstasy. His enormous hands cuffed your waist, making it squidge down against your hips every time he dragged your hips, moving your pussy around him like a cock sleeve.

Kento's strength made manhandling you look easy. You lay ruined beneath him, your head lolling against the inside of your own bound arm. The image of him unbuttoned, masked, gloved and still almost fully dressed above you, grunting and groaning as he used your pussy for his own pleasure, burned onto your retinas.

Kento barely moved his own hips, his eyes fixed feverishly on where he dragged your swollen pussy around the length of his cock, twitching and burning inside you. He couldn't contain himself. The hook behind his navel, all scorched steel and selfishness, beseeched him to drag his pleasure from you.

"Fucking-- ruin you-- never be satisfied...by another man again-- keep running from me, and I'll hunt you down...and take you like this every-- fucking-- time--"

As Kento's pleasure roared over him, he punctuated his thrusts against your belly with the written word in action. Making nothing more than jolted, pitiful moans as he fucked repeatedly against your sensitive cervix and soft-spot, you clambered for purchase, sobbing your pleasure as his gloved fingers rolled your clit between them.

Kento came with a string of curses, his thighs cramping beneath him with the force of it. Feeling his seed begin to pump and spurt into you, he dragged you aggressively to another orgasm with his leathered fingers. He had to feel you clench around him, sucking his seed deep inside you. He had just enough forethought to recall his final, toxic line as he gasped, groaning and bucking with the force of his ejaculation.

You could barely hear him through the fog of pleasure, faint in the distance; "If you have the nerve...to crawl back to me...full and swollen-- know we can be enemies in matrimony, as well as battle."

The room was hushed and dark, the gloom broken only by your mingled, heavy breaths, and the earthy smell of sex. You reached up pulling Kento's balaclava up and pressing a breathless little kiss at the corner of his mouth.

"...but...we still have to get a divorce. I just-- couldn't live with you knowing what I read--"

Kento laughed, his shoulders aching from the weight of the villain, slipping away with his gloves and mask.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Catch of the Eye | Azriel x Hippy!Reader

Summary: After you moved into Velaris, your bright demeanor and clothing seemed to demand Azriel’s attention, as well as the rumors of the Princess of Autumn’s disappearance.

Word Count: ~ 800

Warnings: None!

A/N: This request had me cracking up while writing it bc the idea of a hippy bamboozling az into silence is so funny to me, hope you enjoy <3

Requests are open!

Ever since Azriel had met you, since you’d moved from Autumn Court, you always managed to utterly flabbergast him in ways that shouldn’t be possible for the stoic shadowsinger.

It had all started when he’d noticed the bright, almost obnoxious clothing you always had. Some weren’t bad, like the jeans you would wear with bright floral patterns accenting them, or the flowery shirts or skirts you’d wear.

Your fashion sense was the complete opposite of his, and since you had moved to Velaris under his suggestion, he got to see your wacky outfits every day.

Sandals were a common choice, not to mention warm-toned clothes, cardigans, and knitted tops. The earrings you wore were nothing like he’d seen before, not even trying to be elegant or beautiful, just giving an extra pop of color and flare to your outfit.

It fascinated him.

He’d always seen proper noble women trying to be beautiful or elegant or alluring, but you weren’t that at all. You were just…yourself. You didn’t care about what others thought, you were a rule unto your own law. You were just so out there, sticking out like a sore thumb, but in a good way.

Your bright clothes and personality became a comforting sight for him amongst the dark color theme of Night Court, with most residents opting for black.

And your opinions?

Completely outrageous. But also funny.

Like when you rambled on about how Fae should need a license to winnow, to ensure that they weren’t endangering themselves or others if their skills weren’t good enough. Or how any winged Fae should also need licenses, for the same reason.

He will never forget the time that you told Rhysand to his face on one of your first few times meeting his family that if Velaris was already peaceful and perfect, why not expand that principle to Hewn City, too?

And when he’d tried to explain that the people of Hewn City were too stubborn and hateful for that, you’d just called his reasoning “stupid” and an “excuse” because he just wanted to live in his little paradise city and not deal with the problems of the Court.

That had frazzled Rhys.

In fact, you frazzled almost everyone in the Inner Circle. Except Cassian. He seemed to find you extremely entertaining. You’d nearly given some of them a heart attack, especially since your fiery red hair and hazel eyes oddly resembled the Princess of Autumn, who hadn’t made a public appearance in months, and some people were getting suspicious.

Once getting over the initial hurdle of them adjusting to you, Feyre invited you to her art studio, and when Azriel got there (he’d volunteered to help with some of the paints since he didn’t have any missions that week) he saw you, an absolute mess of paint, helping all the children. You were surprisingly good at it, knowing just what colors to mix for them, giving them what they needed and when, and generally working well with Feyre even if all your paintings were bright and usually neon, and hurt his eyes a bit if he looked too long.

“You’re good with them.”

He spoke to you as he walked down the street, you alongside him as you finally left her painting studio.

“I’ve handled kids before, they’re pretty fun usually.”

He raised a brow at that.

“Did you…babysit, or something?”

He asked, the mental image of you watching and caring for a child for an extended period of time not exactly a great one.

“No, I helped raise my little brother. He was always a more mellow kid, but he had a tongue on him, that was for sure. I oughta visit Luci sometime soon.”

He listened. You’d never mentioned brothers before, or any family at all, really. It didn’t help his suspicions.

“‘Luci’ is an odd name for a boy.”

He commented dryly, and you, clearly not catching onto his sarcasm, as you rarely did, only laughed.

“Boys can be named whatever, but his full name’s Lucien.”

He stopped walking at that, and you continued, oblivious to it until he jogged to catch up.

“You’re Lucien’s sister? As in Lucien Vanserra?”

He asked in a quiet but surprised tone. You only nodded, grinning at him in that lazy, relaxed manner you always had.

“Our secret!”

You declared, before prancing off to go look at the bright fabrics of your favorite salesmen in Velaris. You’d already befriended more than half of the people there, and they all seemed to like you.

Cauldron help anyone who befriended you, and definitely help the shadowsinger stuck as your mate for eternity.

[webslingingslasher]

trouble waking peter up bc she’s horny… I stg he’s never been happier to be woken up

“blood, tears and fire only”? he’s gna have to add one more to the list

YES. IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR SO LONG.

it’s like being so hungry, you wake up with a growling stomach. knots tied and pulled, gurgling for sustenance. this is a new kind of hungry, one that has you famished. you could eat alone, or, you could invite peter to the buffet.

you start gentle, he’ll be grumpy no matter what, but maybe this time he’d catch on to your desperate touches and connect the pieces. peter looks so peaceful when he sleeps, it’s like he turns off all thoughts from the outside world.

‘peter?’ taps on his arm, they turn into delicate pokes. ‘peter? are you up?’ you’re unsure of him moving away from you means yes, he still looks asleep. ‘yes? you’re awake?’

peter breathes deep, you start to feel guilty, but not enough to let him continue his slumber. ‘pst, peter. wake up, please.’ a light shake, it does enough, your touch is shook off.

‘leave me alone.’ his blanket is tugged under his chin, its risen over your head, you bat it off, peter blissfully reaching back into dream land.

‘no, wait.’ you’re met with a heavy sigh, ‘what’s the rule, trouble?’ you trace shapes on his shoulder, like a toddler, you recite his bedtime rules. ‘blood, tears, and fire only.’

‘do we have any of those?’

you’re so… hungry you could burst into tears. but, that’s not what peter asked. ‘no.’ a satisfied nod, ‘great. i’ll talk to you when the suns up.’ the blanket is forced over your head again, you shove it off, this time you’re met with a whiny ‘hey!’

‘i think we need to add another one into the rulebook.’ peter cracks an eye open, you’re too awake for his comfort. ‘what time is it?’ you look behind you, a flash of white on your screen. ‘two.’

‘jesus, trouble. what do we need to add?’ you blank, peter’s frustration shows. ‘c’mon, quickly.’ you roll to your back, ‘i’m… horny. really, really horny.’

a total one eighty from peter, suddenly he’s wide eyes and smiles. ‘oh! okay, yeah, sure, we can add that.’ you blink your eyes and in the short second peter rolled himself over to lay above you.

'what do you want? something quick or the full shebang?' you think he might have been sending you the graphic dream because he's just as, if not more, ready as you are. peter's tugging his, your shirt off while you move your hips around to make more room for him.

'um, i mean we can have sex, sure.' peter looks up at your face, he leans back slightly, the missing blanket makes you shiver. 'you don't sound sure.'

'it's kind of selfish, so, yeah. let's have sex.' you hum when peter wraps an arm around your hip and tugs you closer to him. 'what's selfish?' it's two in the morning and you woke him up from a dead sleep, you shouldn't push him any further.

'what i want. let's just have a quickie.' you reach for his boxers, your hand stings when it's slapped away. 'ow?' peter pushes past it, 'what do you want?'

you feel shy for a moment, it feels like you're using him, you want to ditch the whole thing. you went from overtly horny to guilty in a second. 'i don't know...' peter isn't playing your games, he leans in over you.

'i'm not asking again, trouble. what do you want?' meaning, if you won't tell him, he'll override the situation and shut it down. 'okay, okay. could you... please?' it helps nothing, you just hate asking for it.

peter might not be able to fill in the blanks, but he could pick up a hint. 'could i?' your hands rest on his shoulders, he questions you and you answer by gently pushing him away, pushing him... down.

'what are you... oh, are you? that's what you want?' you pull the comforter over his head, peter fights it off, his hair falls in tufts. 'don't lock me down there, it's dark and hot.' that was the complaint? he's not upset?

'you're not mad that i woke you up just to go down on me?'

'god, no.' kisses down your neck, 'what's the rule?'

you smile, 'blood, tears, fire, and sex only.'

'that's my girl.'

[stararch4ngelqueen]

YOU SAID SOFT!JASON AND I CAME RUNNING

soft!jason who just needs a fucking hug but its a stubborn bitch about it until reader basically forces him to hug her (its koala szn ok i dont make the rules) and his resolve is just GONE and he melts into her touch bc he really needed it

I follow the book of SZA for this season.

Personally ima imagine Gotham Knights Jason cause he gives off ugly bulldog vibes and I love that, but all Jason lives matter here 😊❤️

—

It’s been a while since you’ve witnessed a squash get butchered into many interesting pieces.

The tackling of the oddly tough spaghetti squash was always handled by your boyfriend, who made cutting it into its prepared state look incredibly easy. Cut it into multiple rings, season them, roast them, then fork out the perfectly cooked, sizable noodles with said utensil.

He was lost in thought, he had to have been, as said rock hard vegetable had been resorted to crooked, uneven cubes. His bowed head and dark expression after you quickly noticed, only signified the assumption to be true.

“Jason.” You tried his name again for a second time, concerned enough to settle a hand along his forearm. It was a miracle he hadn’t lost a finger yet, but knocking on wood in your mind would’ve been powerful enough to make it happen.

“Jason.”

The knife pauses, the man blinking once as if someone snapped in front of his face. He lifts his head a bit, coming back to his senses only to realize the state of what mess he’d created on the cutting board.

“Shit,” Jason mutters once, glancing over to see if the other half of the spaghetti squash was still intact.

“Shit.” The curse was further dragged out a little louder. Too lost in his dark cloud of remembrance to realize he butchered it all. Great. Just great.

“Hey,” you speak up, watching him catch your gaze for a split second before avoiding it, quickly setting the knife down.

“Hey.” He clears his throat, his hands piling together the fragments of their now ruined meal. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” You try to insist, watching him scoop up the pieces in his hands. “We can still roast it, make it into something still eatable.”

Jason didn’t respond.

This makes your worry meter spike just a little bit more.

“What’s with that frown handsome? You love Italian night.” You question, keeping your hand settled along his forearm.

There was nothing Italian about this dinner, except the homemade sauce and crumbled choice of sausage from an authentic butcher.

He groans but not out of irritance for your words. His hand shifts, making your hand etch back as he leans against the counter, his head bowing once more.

“Nothing.”

What’s going on in that kind mind of his? Was he involuntarily reminiscing of topics and experiences you don’t dare to mention? Was he beating himself up inside for his slip up, ruining a crucial part of your guys’ dinner?

“Come here,” you step closer, slightly extending your arm out a bit as an offering.

Jason nearly etched his head off to the side, nearly mumbling an ‘No. M’fine babe,’ but you weren’t having it.

“Come heeere,” you tried again, reaching your arm up along his opposite bicep, attempting to capture his broad build into your limited embrace.

You make the effort to squeeze in between the tall man of muscle and the kitchen counter, managing to fit both hands over hud shoulders, securing them being his neck.

“We can fix it.” You tell him before he can say otherwise, his brow either furrowing or raising in mixed surprise, and or denial, “We can ask Alfred for one of his secret recipes. If it doesn’t work, fuck it. We’ll make nutella sandwiches or something.”

His brow sharply quirks.

You return the expression with a smile.

You’re a bad influence on him. He adores that about you.

He huffs, an edge of his tone resembling a weak, throaty chuckle. A corner of his lip raised into a limp smile, which was all you needed to see.

“Long day?”

He merely has the strength in his social battery to respond as his head lowers to settle along your shoulder. With a single sigh, the weight of his body against yours nearly had you squished against the counter. A pleasant company along your sides were those ‘unrealistically’ large hands guarding your back from digging too deep against the marble countertop edges.

“Yeah.”

Your small hand cradles the back of his head, nearly soothing the pain from his tension headache. His eyes close, another small sigh leaving his nose. Not all of the palpable stress leaves his body, but your comfort nearly dulls it down into something much more manageable in seconds. Something much more bearable.

Your soft voice floods his aches and pains with a golden warmth of serenity. Your secret super power did wonders on his heart and mind. You didn’t even have to try.

“How’s Nutella sandwiches sound, actually?”

“We don’t have the marshmallow fluff.”

“No, but.. think we got strawberries.”

His brow slightly quirks again. Tonight sounds like it’s getting better already.

[moraxsthrone]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — WHEN HE CUMS UNTOUCHED (sort of)

ft. diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli (separately; kaeya's is x gn!reader; all others are x f!reader)

be warned: nsfw. mdni. diluc's: wet dream/self-inflicted somnophilia(?)/oral (m. rcv'ing)/cum eating. itto's: rut/face-riding/oral (f. rcv'ing). kaeya's: prostate milking. thoma's: subby thoma/blindfold/sensory deprivation/marking/edging/orgasm denial. zhongli's: shibari/rope play/bondage/f. masturbation/squirting (his is kinda long - that's what she said - so i formatted it a little differently so it wouldn't be a 1k wall of text)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — DILUC

you wake up to the feeling of diluc rutting his hips behind you, his hot morning wood rubbing slowly between your naked butt cheeks. you smile groggily, your mind still shaking off the fog of sleep as you roll back against him. fuck, you missed him so much. he came home late last night, so damn tired he didn’t eat or anything; just stripped all his clothes off, crawled into bed, and pulled you into his arms. he’d been gone for almost a month, working tirelessly alongside his employees to help with the grand opening of a brand new angel’s share location in liyue. branching out is great for business, but being separated for such an extended period was rough on both of you. you would’ve accompanied him to the land of commerce, but someone needed to hang back and manage the day to day operations at both the winery and tavern in mondstadt. but it’s okay bc your husband is home again now, and is presently grinding his neglected dick against your plush butt. intertwining your fingers with his in front of your lips, you groan and kiss the knuckle of his thumb, “mm, diluc baby, missed you…” he responds by rocking his pelvis harder. unbeknownst to you, he’s dreaming a sweet little dream of sinking his thick, pale cock inside the wet heat of your cunt. he grunts, but you don’t think much of his non-verbal response until his hips buck and then still as you feel his warm, creamy fluid squirt against your bare ass. you gasp and look over your shoulder to see him smack his lips sleepily as his eyelids flutter for an instant. realizing he’s still asleep and in the throes of a wet dream, you throw the covers back and sink down between his legs to clean his cum from his cock with a warm tongue bath, making his dreams even wetter for him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ITTO

he’s in the peak of one of his ruts when he comes over to your place in need. your scent alone is enough to make him feral when he’s in heat like this. the towering oni barely makes it through your front door before scooping you up and carrying you to bed where he drops you on your back. he stands up again, staring down at you and licking his fangs as he peels his shirt off, exposing the scarlet markings on his broad chest and hard abs. he’s sniffing at the air, his mouth watering when he catches the familiar scent of your arousal. something about being manhandled by your oni makes you so wet for him, especially when his mating pheromones are lighting up the pleasure center of your reptilian brain. “take your clothes off, baby,” he commands, and you obey. he strips down to his boxers and lies down on his back before grabbing your naked thighs and practically dragging you on top of him. his thick, veiny cock has popped out of the hole in his underwear like it always does when he gets hard because he’s so fucking big. you sigh when your moist cunt drags along the textured underside of his wide shaft, the thick vein there rolling over your clit. you slick him up with your wet folds, gliding with ease and letting out a little whimper when your little pink pearl catches on the large mushroom tip of his cock. he’s watching your pretty pussy milk his precum out of his dark pink slit, the clear liquid oozing out almost nonstop and glistening in his white happy trail. “fuck, baby, come sit on my face,” he grumbles, cupping your ass in his huge hands and pulling you to straddle his shoulders. “y’smell so good ‘n i wanna taste ya…” you’re more than happy to oblige him, knowing how much he loves it when you ride his face and my gods, he’s so good at eating pussy, why wouldn’t you? you settle down on his waiting mouth, a shiver racing down your spine when his long tongue darts out to tease your engorged clit. immediately, your legs start to shake and you have to hold onto his horns to steady yourself so you don’t fall forward. he pulls your clit into his hot mouth, wrapping his lips around you, suckling your hard bud in pulses until you’re a whining mess above him. he’s watching you, slowly rutting his aching cock into the air behind you. his magma irises are nearly overtaken by his slitted pupils as you throw your head back and rock your hips. “f-fuck me with your tongue, itto~” he releases your clit with a lewd, wet pop; his black-painted claws drawing blood beneath the surface of your skin when he digs them into your plush ass to pull you harder against his face. he’s all but fucking the air with his drooling cock when he plunges his tongue inside your tight hole. you’re nearly sobbing when your fists tighten around his red horns, using them for leverage to fuck his face. the tip of his nose is bumping against your twitching clit when he growls and you cum hard in his mouth. you’re still clenching helplessly around his prodding tongue when he moans and you feel his long, thick ribbons of hot cum streak across your back.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — KAEYA

your boyfriend is lying on his back, enjoying the attention you’ve been giving to his naked body. you’ve left countless kisses and pretty little marks between his thighs when you press two fingers against his perineum, making him moan shamelessly as he arches his back off the bed. gods, he loves it. you haven’t even touched his dick yet, which is rock hard, twitching and leaking between his open legs. you spit on your fingers where they line up with his ass before massaging his rim. down to a mere shred of dignity, the cavalry captain is uncharacteristically close to begging, thrusting his purple-tipped cock into the air when he bucks his hips in an effort to try and push himself onto your finger as you prod at his tight little hole. he’s gritting his teeth and clenching his fists above his head but when he feels the delectable pressure of your digit finally entering him, his features go slack as a high-pitched sigh leaves his lips. his beautifully-toned arms are flexing, knuckles going white around his pillow while he clenches rhythmically around the tip of your finger as you slowly work it in a little deeper. “nnhmm~ fuck, baby…” he groans, arching his back again, “...give me more…” you tut at him with a light chuckle, “so greedy, kaeya.” but you oblige him. you pull out of him just long enough to add a second finger before pushing inside again, and he gasps. “oh fuck yes~” he brings a hand to your face and you look up at him to meet his heavy-lidded, heterochromatic gaze. his lips are parted and a dark pink blush graces his cheeks. “you look particularly stunning like this, love,” you coo at him, gently pressing deeper inside, “pleasure is definitely your color.” he smiles at you and cups your cheek, pressing his thumb to your lips which you happily welcome inside your mouth to suck on. “it’s all for you, snowflake hahhh~” his eyes roll back when you curl your fingers to press against that telltale soft spot inside of him. you wrap your free hand around his thigh, kissing and sucking new marks there as you gently fuck his puckering hole with your fingers. “ohh…hnn…gods yes!” he keens “fuck me harder, baby~” you thrust into him with increased pressure, tugging harder and harder on his p-spot, watching his dark-skinned balls move in his sac as they draw closer to his body - all while telling him how fucking sexy he looks for you and how you can’t wait to ride his cock. his mouth is open, eyes closed, he’s humping the air again when you feel him tighten around you. “fuck, f-feels so good…i’m- nnggnnfuck! cumming, baby!” his walls squeeze your fingers in hard, rhythmic pulses, his thick cock bouncing lewdly and slinging long ropes of his hot cum across his own chest and abs as he whimpers your name.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — THOMA

you’ve had this sweet boi on his knees for the past hour, completely naked and blindfolded. you’ve touched nearly every inch of his body with some part of your own, but with the clear expectations that 1) he has to keep his hands to himself and 2) he’s not allowed to cum until you tell him to. and he’s done so well. he’s even told you when he was close a few times so you could quickly wrap your fingers around the base of his pretty cock and squeeze it hard to hold his orgasm back. now he’s sitting back on his heels, strong thighs spread open, the rest of his senses in overdrive from the temporary loss of sight. a long, clear thread of precum dangles underneath his shaft as it leaks from his slit in a near-constant drip, making a cute little puddle on the floor between his legs. dark spots are forming in the fabric where the corners of his eyes are watering from the overwhelming-but-unresolved pleasure you’re giving him. you kneel down in front of him, inching your way between his legs until you’re close enough to kiss him. he eagerly kisses you back, chasing your lips when you pull away to suck on his pulse point. he stifles a whine when you lightly pinch his nipple and lovingly lick the new mark you made on his neck. you leave a trail of feather-light kisses along his jawline, making him bite his lip when you stop to nibble playfully at his earlobe. “always such a good, obedient boy for me, thoma,” you whisper, eliciting a hiss from him as you force his rock hard cock down to let the shiny, swollen tip slip between your wet pussy lips and nudge against your clit. “mmm~so hard…your cockhead feels so good, baby,” you coo in his ear. “your cunt…so warm,” he pants, his breath hot on your cheek. “ohhgods, gonna cum!” he warns. you pull away, letting his cock slap against his belly while sliding your fingers down to his base to give him a hard squeeze, but it’s too little too late. thoma tries to fight it, but his body betrays him and his hips begin to thrust involuntarily. he chokes back something between a groan and a whimper while his seed squirts out of his winking cockhole and against his navel before dribbling down his length and over your fingers. “m’sorry, milady,” he pants. “i tried not to…” but you take pity on him and untie his blindfold to find his pretty green eyes pleading with you. “hey,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth, “it’s okay, baby boy. you did so well for me and i’m proud of you.” he presses his forehead to yours and nods before kissing you passionately and lowering you to the floor so he can fuck you properly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ZHONGLI

he’s such a good sport, letting you practice some of the shibari skills he’s taught you…on him. the arm binder you’ve got him in looks beautiful; you take a couple of pictures and show them to him.

“hm, yes, very elegant indeed," he critiques thoughtfully. "your symmetry has greatly improved as well.”

you beam with pride at his praise and kiss his cheek. “thank you, li...although much of the credit goes to my most capable teacher,” you say with a wink.

you take a step back, admiring your work while seeking his reassurance that he’s adequately restrained, but not in any pain. you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make you a little wet - his bare, chiseled arms of onyx and gold bound exquisitely by black jute behind his back. this gives you an idea and you start to undress.

his lips curve into a little smile as you take off your top. “what are you doing, love?” he asks, enjoying the show.

you smirk down at him as you push your shorts down your legs before letting them fall to the floor. “a test,” you say, sitting on the edge of your shared bed just a few feet opposite him. “let’s see just how proficient i’ve become.”

he chuckles lowly as you lean back and spread your legs for him. a faint glow flickers behind his amber eyes as they follow your fingers when they begin to trace light patterns along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. the mouth-watering scent of your arousal hits his nose, sending a dull ache straight to his balls.

he watches intently as your fingers graze your slit, a dark groan forming in his throat when you spread your dewy petals for him. you hum appreciatively as you let your middle finger slide between your folds, collecting your slippery nectar on your fingertip before rolling your clit around with it. he shifts in his chair, a subtle adjustment that provides little more room for his cock to grow.

you let out a quiet moan and he licks his lips as he watches some of your slick trickle out before you gather it on your finger and smooth it over your hardening bud. his cock is getting uncomfortably hard and he’s beginning to get slightly annoyed at the fact that he keeps trying to bring a hand to his front to adjust himself, only to be reminded that he can’t. you even looped the rope through the slatted back of the chair he’s sitting in, so he can’t even stand up. you’re close enough to him that were his arms not bound, he would need only reach out to touch you, but in his current predicament all he can do is watch helplessly as you pleasure yourself.

you look between your legs to see him staring intently, his lips parted, eyes glowing fiercely as he shifts again in his seat. the god formerly known as rex lapis is so mesmerized by your masturbation that he doesn’t notice the mischievous grin that takes shape on your flushed face as you bite your lip. you watch his bright eyes widen when you finally dip a finger inside your tight hole. the sight of your slick coating your finger as you let it sink in all the way to your knuckle makes him huff impatiently. he can already taste you on the back of his tongue when he feels the first bead of his precum leak out onto his thigh.

you thrust your finger slowly a few more times before pulling it out and bringing it to your mouth to suck, only to return it to your cunt and adding a second finger to fuck yourself with. his cock is throbbing painfully in the confines of his pants and he’s desperate for something, anything to rut against.

you’re fingering yourself deeper now, harder, forcing more of your need out around your fingers, drenching your knuckles. your palm is slapping your clit as you raise your hips off the bed. zhongli’s hips start rocking on reflex, the pressure of his slacks pressing his cock against his thigh making him sigh with some semblance of relief. it’s not ideal but he’s so needy that if he doesn’t fuck something he's sure he’ll go mad.

inside his pants, he’s leaking all over his thigh, his swollen cockhead gliding easily through the puddle of precum on his leg and he whines at how good it feels. the warmth of his own skin, the slick of his pre, the texture of his slacks - it’s all too much. “cum! cum for me, darling…” he growls.

“hnnhh~ li? mmgonna cum for you,” you whine, struggling to keep up with your own impending orgasm, but you manage. “fuck! zhongli!” you cry, so worked up over the show you’re giving him that you squirt against your own hand for him.

he’s thrusting faster now, shamelessly rolling his hips, humping his own thigh. “nnhhhfuck…” he groans, the searing coil at the base of his spine about to snap. with just a couple more drags of his cock over his slick thigh, his mouth falls open in a loud moan, his hips jerking as a large wet spot spreads over the leg of his pants. he cums on himself so hard that some of his creamy white nut seeps through the fabric of his dark slacks before dripping down his inner thigh onto the floor below. 

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — masterlist

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — thank you for reading, loves. please consider reblogging and/or commenting if you enjoyed! smooches for you!

[puranami]

✿ It's The Little Things - 3 ✿

A/N: @leafyturtle come get y'all Franky and Robin fluff! I'm excited for this one, lotsa faves in here >:3c

Summary: Little relationship things with (currently) anime/manga exclusives ✿

Characters: Franky, Robin, Law, Kid, Killer

Content: SFW, G/N reader, language in Kid's (bc it's Kid lol) bottomless fluff ✿

(Part 1 - Luffy, Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji) (Part 2 - Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk) (Part 4 - Crocodile, Rosinante, Doflamingo)

Franky

✿ Multiply his self-aggrandizing by 100, and that's how he sees you; he is your personal hype man! Every single insecurity, no matter how big or small, will be kissed away, because you are perfect, and you should definitely tell people as such. Wait, you're too shy and don't want to? No worries, Franky's got you, and he'll tell everyone himself. Loudly. No, he won't stop or tone it down; "The world needs to know how super you are!" He loves when you hype him up in turn, and uses it to show you how great self confidence is; and it will rub off on you. He's so proud when you declare how amazing you are, even if it's just to him! "AOW! That's right, babe, you are amazing!" He'll pick you up in those huge, strong arms of his, practically crushing you in a bear hug.

✿ Franky loves to make you any and all gadgets he thinks you'd like, or need. Just as he is constantly upgrading his body, he develops and re-develops things that make your life easier, or that bit cooler! While he likes to surprise you with them, seeing how your eyes light up in wonder as he shows you how it works, he loves it even more when you're involved in the building process; brainstorming ideas, designing, picking out the colour palette, he'll even let you use a blowtorch, just, please be careful, wait what was that twinkle of mischief in your eyes? Okay, no more blowtorch - leave it to the pro! It would kill him if you got hurt on his watch, he's meant to protect you!

✿ He's made up a comfy little alcove in his workshop so you can keep him company while he's working. Soft cushions, blankets, lights so can work on your own hobbies, it's perfect! Even when you were just friends, you were always welcome there, and it's become your little safe space. It's comfy enough to fall asleep there when Franky works late, and he even modified it so that there is room for him to sleep there too. While hanging out, you'll talk about everything, and nothing, what you're both working on, or you'll simply listen to music and enjoy each others presence, and that often leads to loud singing, especially on Franky's part. He'll share his cola with you too, you just bring the snacks - can't work on an empty stomach after all!

Robin

✿ Robin is very calm and reserved, especially compared to the rest of the crew, so her way of showing affection follows the same pattern. She'll put a gentle hand on your arm, and touch your foreheads together, but her favourite thing to do is to grow an arm out of your own, reaching down to hold your hand, all while on the other side of the room, smiling to herself. If your eyes are sharp, you'll catch the delicate blush on her cheeks when you bring your arm up to kiss her hand, or gently hold it to your cheek. She'll also make a pair of arms to wrap around your waist, or shoulders if you're sat down. She'll hold you personally too, but that is saved for your private quarters or the library.

✿ Part of her flirting is making dark comments and jokes; "I know the best way to your heart, dear." - "Through my stomach?" - "Oh no, that's not very efficient! It's anywhere between the 2nd and 4th ribs." She'll say it with such a loving gaze and gentle smile, and if you didn't know Robin better, you'd be worried she was plotting your murder, but that's just how she is, and you love her for it. She will also tell you all the gruesome details she finds in her books and research. Part of you suspects that she's purposefully trying to spook you so she can comfort you, but really she just finds these thing fascinating. Robin will be ecstatic if you can match her gallows humour, or if you have morbid facts of your own you can share with her.

✿ She takes great comfort in the fact that you love her unconditionally, and that you have always accepted her as she is, morbid interests, and former associations included, and she makes sure that you know she loves you all the same, no matter your quirks, flaws, and mistakes, for that is the beauty of love! You are each others port in the unrelenting storm of life.

Law

✿ Law is so used to losing the people he loves most, so for him to open up, it will take a lot of time, patience, and understanding. You can't push him on things, and will have to wait for him to come to you - he needs to feel like he has some control over the situation so he can make better judgement calls, and do something if it all goes wrong. It's nothing personal, he just doesn't want to helplessly watch his world fall apart again; he's older, smarter, and much stronger now, he will keep those he cares about safe. Once he's at that point where he feels like he's ready to be open and honest, he is completely dedicated and doggedly loyal, though he isn't very expressive with it.

✿ He shows his love through acts of service; making sure you are eating and sleeping well, tending any injuries you get in day to day life, moving you if you've fallen asleep in a weird place or position so you don't get any aches and pains, or catch a cold. Law hopes that you can feel the love he has for you in each action. He just wants to know you are healthy and well so he doesn't need to worry about you. Well, he says that, but he still worries, he can't help it. You'll need to use his own tactics against him to make sure he actually sleeps and eats instead of just working. It won't always work, sometimes he's working on things that are far too important, but he will relent otherwise.

✿ PDA is not a thing for him. At all. It's almost like he doesn't want to jinx things with the world seeing he has entrusted his heart with another again. On the Polar Tang, when it's just you and the crew, he'll be a little more open, placing a hand on your head or shoulder, matching your pace as he walks beside you, slightly gentler eyes, and the hint of a smile; so subtle, yet the crew sees right through him, and they like to tease you both. Nothing serious, but it still gets them the worst chores in response. In private, when you are alone is the only time will he allow himself to be vulnerable.

Kid

✿ Given how intense and aggressive he is, you have the patience of a goddamn saint, and guts to back you up. He refuses to lessen himself for anyone; he is who he is, and you can either accept it and embrace him fully, or you can, in his words, "Fuck right off!" It will take a lot to break through the immense barriers he has - he will shout, argue, insult, and to get through, you have to be able to withstand that without crumbling. Shout back! Show him you're not gonna let anyone walk all over you, not even him, earn his respect, then you can build up from there. Once you've wormed your way into that exclusive club of 'We aren't Killer, but Kid still cares about us," he will be ride or die with you, and when he realises he genuinely likes you, or hell, even loves you, he would burn down the world for you if you asked him to.

✿ Out in public, you get no special treatment. It's just safer that way. He can't afford to be looking over his shoulder every other minute to make sure no one is trying to get to him through you. He'll still keep an eye on you of course, but it's indistinguishable from him watching over the rest of the crew. On the Victoria Punk he will be possessive, but not affectionate. Kid will keep you by his side, or drag you onto his lap, just generally manhandling you really, there will be no mistaking who you belong to. Once you're alone he will actually soften up; he knows he's a lot, and he cares deep down, but he's still in charge, he is your captain after all. You should take advantage of this time to get all the affection out of him that you can!

✿ You're one of the few that are actually allowed to hang in his workshop, as long as you don't bother him. He'll entertain some conversation if he's just setting up, or having a break, but once he's in the zone, zip it. He's fine with you watching him work - he's good at what he does and he knows it, but seeing the admiration in your eyes is a nice ego boost. He'll make you things if the mood hits him, particularly bits of jewellery, as it makes it easier to manhandle you from the other side of the room. He's a busy man, he doesn't want to wait for you to look his way and walk over, he wants your attention now!

Killer

✿ Like Kid, Killer has a tendency to manhandle, but it's not nearly as aggressive; he's a big guy with big, strong muscles, and he just enjoys hauling you around like a sack of potatoes. It gives him the opportunity to hold you close, 'accidentally' touch your butt, and your laughter through it all is just so sweet. He greatly enjoys your presence when he's going about his day, and deeply appreciates any assistance you can offer, such as in the kitchen, and certainly when trying to manage his idiot best friend and crew, as he's essentially the de facto caretaker on board. Often you'll end up sat on his shoulders, acting as an extra pair of eyes and hands - no shenanigans go unnoticed!

✿ You have become an expert at reading Killer's moods and expressions through his mask, every slight shift of his body, and the angle of his head has a very specific meaning. It doesn't help that he's a quiet man in general; balancing Kid's incessant ranting and raving with his well thought out, straight to the point statements. He much prefers to listen to you talk, only talking when he has something to add to the mostly one-sided conversation. He loves having these 'chats' with you sat in his lap, head resting against his broad chest. Sometimes his goatee will tickle the top of your head, and he lives for those giggles.

✿ It will take a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to remove his mask, and you can bet he refuses to laugh around you for the longest time. Just be patient with him, and let him do things when he's ready, and don't make a big deal out of it if something slips; he'll be pretty mortified, so just giving him a loving smile and a gentle touch will reassure him that maybe the things he's insecure about, or straight up hates, aren't as big an issue as he believes them to be. Telling him he is perfect is appreciated, but not effective in building him up, since nothing is perfect really, but seeing you love him unconditionally certainly will give him a boost.

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry | Part 3 Sneak Peak!

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ Only! talk of and allusion to oral sex (m and f receiving), infidelity, Aegon is a cheeky mofo bc of course he is, reader is goinggg there, bad language, obvi aegon x reader is not endgame and it's ermm complicated but I feel obliged to include it as a warning pffffft

Word Count: 544

Author's note: because I have been taking... disgustingly long to get this part finished and I am beyond sorry to keep you all waiting, hopefully this will give you some reprieve! There will still be a couple more days before the next part is up - this bitch (for reference:: me) has been going through it lately so the time to write has been limited. Let me know what your thoughts and predictions are! I will have my eyes on the inbox bc it's great!! motivation. love you all xoxo, kisses! <3

“Does my dear brother forego his duties for the comfort of whores, perhaps?”

Pursing your lips, you gently turned your face so that your lips were centimetres away from his, Aegon’s fringe brushing across your forehead. There was a ringing in your ears, a nervousness about how you were so close to betraying your husband and how you were unsure that you could handle the fallout of what was definitely about to happen. Things are much different for women; infidelity and adultery would be grounds for far worse than simply an annulment. This world was not so kind to a lady who partakes in the same treachery as a lord.

“It seems my husband is no different to any other man who does not hunger for his wife.”

“I hunger for his wife,” Aegon all but moaned at the way your lips nudged closer to his. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his fingers into your flesh. “But I am no fool, my Lady. Aemond has always been the sole object of your gaze. You are here for more sinister reasons, I suspect.”

You blinked. Why did these Targaryen princes so often seem to be one step ahead?

It was a relief that he had not moved away from your closeness. In fact, Aegon leaned further into it. His smile never faltered and he waited patiently for you, watching as you thought of your next moves. There was a flush of embarrassment that prettied your skin and it was clear that your facade was close to crumbling. So you sighed, resigning to the fact that being honest with Aegon would be best. 

“You are right,” you muttered. He shook with a silent laugh at your bravery and the way your chin remained turned up. “I-I believe you are aware of my intentions, Your Grace. Will you have me dragged back to Prince Aemond’s feet or will you allow my scheme?”

Aegon was in front of you in a matter of seconds, bending down so that he met your height as you stayed seated. “I would risk meeting the wrath of a man whose temperament and pride are unchained.”

“Teach me how to make it worth it then, my King,” you held strong in forcing the tremble out of your voice. You didn’t want to bed him entirely–absolutely not. Just what you had seen through the gap in Aemond’s door would be more than enough and there was a bubbling gratification in your stomach knowing that Aemond would not be able handle what he had so easily served out. 

His hand held the back of your neck and he jerked forward to catch your lips, grunting when you turned your head from him. You couldn’t kiss him. You weren’t interested in kissing him–only fulfilling the steady thrum of excitement at the need to both experience what you had been teased with and show your husband that he should be sorry. 

A deep breath and you looked at Aegon through your lashes, bringing your fingers to feel the softness of his lips. “I do not want you to fuck me, Your Grace. But show me how I may give you pleasure with my mouth. And how a man can satisfy me with his.”

[koishua]

you're my hom(m)e — choi yeonjun.

notes: enough domesticity and fluff to rot this country's teeth. my late late val's day gift <3 pretty short but what's new. if you like it then pls pls pls leave a forehead kiss for me bc i have an exam and need moral support. if you don't then pls leave one anyway bc ur cute i bet anyways bye

home has a name and it's choi yeonjun. it's when you're here and he is there, far away, and yet his voice, even through the phone, is still more than enough to chase your fears away. when he calls you and your name slips past his lips and you can feel the desperation— the yearning— and when his heart breaks at the sound of your silence behind the line, because he knows that you're crying and he knows that you don't want him to hear how painful the time apart has been for you.

home is choi yeonjun when he is back by your side again, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging onto your presence like he's been depraved of it for longer than eternity. it's when he cradles the back of your head to the nape of his neck and when the grip of his arm around your waist becomes stronger after you tell him that you miss him. home is wherever with yeonjun. not the apartment you'd been renting ever since you'd moved out to study, being there through everything with you even before a tall, charming, and silly man named choi yeonjun existed in your life.

home is yeonjun (yeonjun yeonjun yeonjun yeonjun— God, you hope you'll always get to say that same name with all of the love and affection in the universe, long after the last star burns out and fizzles out into nothing) when sunlight filters through your curtains and you wake up to see his sculpted face all puffy, pillow marks on his cheek from how long he'd stayed laying on his side to face you, not that you look all that better, but he'd disagree. it's when you can lay there and count the lashes brushing over the skin right under his eyes, having enough time to observe his every feature in great detail. home is whenever yeonjun's eyes flutter open and an immediate toothy smile forms on his well-rested face, you brushing away the hair over his forehead to place a chaste kiss there and wherever else you manage to catch before he feels ticklish and traps you in his arms.

home is choi yeonjun (gosh, his name is so beautiful and you're pretty sure from the odd way your heart beats, that somewhere on that bundle of tender and tired muscle his name is etched and carved into it), because he knows where your ice cream scoop is whenever you feel down and you crave the company of a cold treat. it's him, because whenever you look up at your ceiling, there are stars glowing in the dark in the shape of your favourite constellations ("if you're going to wake up in the middle of the night to contemplate on life and don't want to call me, you can at least stare at a ceiling that's not dreadful and boring"). it's yeonjun, because he loves it when you laugh at his stories about his day and he loves it even more when you tell him about how a bird flew inside the cafe you'd been working on writing a paper at and how it landed in your table and how the owner had to chase it away and they'd accidentally destroyed your cheesecake in the process, offering you a new one apologetically.

home is choi yeonjun, because on the day you'd agreed to have a home date because of your conflicting and busy schedules, he'd made it to you in time despite the raging storm and pouring rain, drenched from head to toe ("the car broke down and i had to take the train, but then i realized that i didn't have my card with me, so i had to run. i'm sorry if I'm late."). home is everything that reminds you of him, even the coffee mug he'd seen at a flea market and bought, because he'd thought that the spots on the ceramic looked like your childhood pet parrot.

choi yeonjun is home, he simply is.

[odderevents]

I have had a thought. Steve secretly knowing how to play the piano bc he learned as a kid and had to stop bc his dad's an asshole is lovely. I've seen this floating around a few times and I love it. Eddie catching him playing the piano and being so fucking in love with him will never not be perfect.

But.

Consider

Steve playing the Harp.

It's definitely a rich kid instrument. Big ass fucking impractical instrument. Absolutely beautiful to look at and listen to. Hands playing piano is great. But have you ever seen an accomplished harpist? It makes you think impure thoughts about what those fingers can do.

So. Steve secretly knowing how to play the harp

Maybe his mom used to play it, so there's a big harp (the ones with the columns and super intricate base board, not celtic) that's just gathering dust in the basement. Steve started piano lessons, loved learning how to pull music out of an inert object. But his dad decides it's to effeminate, makes him stop. And sure, a harp is a different beast to a piano. But you've still got cords, and Steve's got a pretty decent ear, and he can barely remember seeing his mom play. So one day when he has the house to himself, which isn't an unusual occurrence at this point, he tries it out. And he's admittedly pretty shit at it, but so was he at piano when he started. Only difference is he has no teacher.

So maybe Steve discreetly finds a way to acquire a beginner's practice instructional book for harp. And works on it when he needs to get his brain away from things.

He's even more careful with it than he is with any dirty mags he might later acquire. He knows that worse, much worse than piano, harp is not a masculine instrument and under no circumstances should his father find out about his affinity for it.

It's still his go to when he can't sleep even years later, pulling out the now old and battered booklet of sheet music and exercises. Especially once the upside down bullshit starts. It's soothing and mindless at this point.

The harp that was much too big when he first started with it is now just the right size, it's weight against his shoulder comforting. He can close his eyes and his fingers naturally find where to land and pluck.

Even when he becomes friends with Robbin and then Eddie, both musicians who he knows wouldn't give a damn about him playing a woman's instrument, he can't bring himself to mention it. If he did, they would want to hear him play and he's self-conscious about being self-taught. Both of them play well, they play with other people and people come to listen. He doesn't consider himself a "real" musician. It's just something he does to keep his hands and brain busy on nights where the sheets feel like they're strangling him and the dark reminds him too much of when he can't see not because it's night but because something's hit him in the head again and he can't tell apart the sound of his heartbeat from something pounding through his walls.

So he goes to the basement. Finds his stool. Removes the dust cover. Goes through the meditative motions of tuning it by ear, because that's how he's always done it. And then he plays until the tips of his fingers feel numb. Somehow, he always comes out of it peaceful enough to pass out on the couch in the basement for a couple more hours.

Steve is so used to keeping it a secret he doesn't even think about it when he starts dating Eddie. It's just a thing that's always only been his, and most importantly, it's been vital to keep it that way for so long it's the natural state of things for Steve at this point. It doesn't ever come up. When Steve gets nightmares when he's sleeping with Eddie all he has to do is curl into his boyfriend's chest and feel the warm heartbeat that's not his own to settle back into himself.

The problem arises on a night when Eddie was supposed to stay with Steve but he got held up in Indianapolis when getting a new amp for his guitar. He would come back to Steve but it would be late in the night. Steve has been keeping himself busy all day so he passes out in the early evening on the couch in front of a shitty sitcom he put on to try to distract himself from the empty house.

Nightmares find him, which isn't terribly unusual, but he doesn't have his usual method of coping so he resorts back to his previous habit.

Eddie walks in bone tired after many hours of driving to and from Indianapolis, waiting while the clerk figured out they didn't have the amp he'd been assured over the phone would be available for pickup today, waiting some more while they had the amp driven from a sister shop an hour away because no way was he driving back and forth again to Indianapolis on another day. So yeah. Eddie is beat. All he wants is to dive head first into his boyfriend's impeccable pecs.

He doesn't find Steve waiting with a welcome kiss like he usually would when he walks in. Instead he's greeted with a hauntingly beautiful rendition of the melody of Master of Puppets in a way he's never heard before.

He drops his stuff in the entry hall and goes down to the basement where the music is coming from, curious to see where Steve might have found the recording. Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself when he finally lays eyes on Steve, with dried tear stains on his cheeks and his eyes closed as his fingers pluck and strum without hesitation. He's rooted to the spot as he watches Steve work his favorite song in a new and completely heartrending way. He hasn't been able to listen to it since he played it in the upside down. It always brings up the bitter blood tang of the air and the hair raising shrieks of the bats. But this is somehow different, it's soft and melodious but it's still got the same bones.

Eddie feels tears on his own cheeks. He's missed this song goddammit. And he couldn't be happier that it's Steve that's given it back to him

Queue tears and fear and confessions and comfort. Somehow much later in the future there's inexplicably a harp in some of the corroded coffin tracks. And it shouldn't work but it does

[forlorn-crows]

one time someone asked me for a little something about cirrus and mountain's friendship. i don't know where that ask ran off to, but. tagging @askingforthesun bc i think i mentioned this to you randomly one day.

sometimes cirrus asks mountain to help her shave. gives them a chance to spend some alone time together and catch up. slice of life & banter for a sleepy sunday.

words: 680

“Ah, there it is,” Mountain hums, running his thumb along the newly shaven patch of skin.

“There’s what?”

“Your cute little mole.”

“Oh,” Cirrus snorts, thwacking him with the end of her tail. 

“Whaaat,” Mountain complains. He swishes the razor in the dish of water on the nightstand, laying it on the towel so he can go back to admiring the little blobby heart-like mark nestled in the fold of her upper thigh. “I love it. One of my favorite kissy spots.” The earth ghoul dips down as if to do just that, only to get a hiss and a face full of feathers.

“Uh uh,” she scolds. “No. You’re gonna give me pimples.” As if Mountain doesn’t already know this.

He sighs dramatically, resting his cheek on the opposite thigh. “Can you blame a ghoul for wanting to kiss such a perfect spot?”

“For an untrimmed bush? Yes. Because we both know once you start, you’re gonna get all horn-dog on me and I’ll be left indecent,” she pouts. 

Mountain tuts and rolls his eyes. “Would not,” he protests. He’s terrible at lying. With a pointed glare, Cirrus says as much. “Okay, maybe I would.”

“You have,” she corrects. “And I am not in the mood.” It’s not malicious, the way she says it. More haughty, teasing, and matter-of-fact, re-settling herself against the pillows with a wriggle of her shoulders. 

Mountain chuckles, placing a kiss to her bare thigh instead. “Alright, darling.” He runs the pads of his fingers lightly over the edge of her hair, feeling for rough spots or stray hairs. Pulls the thin skin to check in the creases too, mentally taking note of where to pick back up. 

“Thank you,” Cirrus chirps, crossing her arms playfully. 

Mountain just smiles and picks up the safety blade again. He shaves carefully along the crease of her thigh, brow furrowing as he concentrates. Cirrus has dark hair, so it’s easy to see, but he always vows to be precise when she’s asked him for help.

He cleans the blade again. “How’s mentoring going?” They’ve been talking about everything and nothing, mainly Cirrus’ newly developed finger joint pain (“So stupid, I’m how old and this vessel is just now deciding to fuck with me?” “You have been going hard on that baby grand recently, though, Cir.” “It’s new, it needs breaking in!” “Little harder on the hands, isn’t it?” “Well–”).

“Aurora?” Mountain hums an affirmative. “She’s . . .” Cirrus interrupts herself with a laugh. “She’s a handful, I won’t lie. In the best of ways.”

“She’s an eager one. Maybe more than Sunshine,” he muses.

“Yes,” she sighs. “So eager. She makes me feel like an old woman sometimes.”

“A wise old owl.” Mountain’s smirk earns him another tail smack. “You are going to make me miss a spot,” he accuses. 

Cirrus ignores him. “She has so much energy. She fits in wonderfully, and Sunny is taking well to mentoring, too. But Lucifer, that inner fire of hers . . . somehow it’s more pronounced than Sunny’s, if that were possible.”

“She’ll mellow out,” Mountain assures. “Sunny did, too. You and Lus have a calming influence.” The earth ghoul sets the razor aside and surveys his work. He hums, considering. “How’s the shape for you? I know you wanted a bit less this time, but I didn’t want to take too much off before I trim.”

“Hmm . . .” She peeks over her torso, assessing. Mountain hands her the mirror so she doesn’t have to crane her neck. She palpates her mound, pulling away hair from the shaved perimeter and spreading her thighs to see the rest. Tilting the mirror this way and that. 

“No, that’s great, sunflower, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, darling.” Mountain takes the mirror back and trades it out for the comb and scissors. “Same as usual for length?” 

Cirrus nods. “You know I can always bring you my clippers too, right?” 

“Call me old fashioned,” Mountain shrugs. “Sometimes it’s nice to slow down. More time to catch up.” He offers her a smile, one that she mirrors fondly.

“Can’t argue with that.” 

[zivazivc]

what's your headcanon about the bergens keeping the trolls as prisoners?

OHOHOHOHO! fair warning, my headcanons tend to be really dark and this is no exception.

I'm not typing this anew, I'm just pasting two blocks of text I sent to a friend via tumblr messenger on two different occasions, so it might feel a bit disjointed while reading:

block of text one:

okay basically in my hc trollstice is also a once a year thing but it’s not barbaric in the sense that on that day they let the bergens into the cage and they just go ham catching trolls left and right. in my hc king peppy and chef actually have a fucked up agreement where chef shows up a few weeks/days before trollstice on a particular year and tells him how many trolls she needs that year and then the trolls pick that year’s victims by lot (only trolls who are 40 and older participate (with a few exceptions like obvs the king, but also rosiepuff but more on that some other time)) (also the age limit used to be much higher at the very beginning but they had to adjust to their population growing smaller). they implemented this to keep the kids safe and also to kinda force the population to reproduce more, because everyone starts having kids young bc they want to see them grow up before there’s a chance that they can get picked for the next trollstice (it’s also why jd and freesia we’re already thinking of starting a family at 18) ANYWAY during all this the trolls have been secretly digging the escape tunnels for years, and they are getting close but they keep pushing the date back because of cave ins or other setbacks. ANYWAY the bergen king has a baby son who will be old enough for his very first trollstice in a few years, and the chef being a demon spawn proposes that the prince’s very first troll should be a princess. king peppy and everyone is horrified because viva is still young and he tries arguing that she’s the only heir to the throne. So then Chef is like “then make a new princess for the prince, you still have two years time”. SO THEN the king is forced to have poppy (hence why she’s so much younger than viva 🙃) but the trolls are still all horrified of the idea that the bergens would eat a child so they collectively start working extra hard in the tunnels and they manage to finish them just in time for the prince’s first trollstice…….

this would also explain why chef was so confident about where baby poppy was located at the last trollstice at the beginning of the first movie when she walked into the cage and knew which pod to grab - it all had to be planned in advance.

AND there being no “old” trolls would also explain why so much life wisdom and knowledge about the outside world managed to disappear during the time the trolls were imprisoned. no grandmas or grandpas to pass the knowledge on.

.

.

block of text two:

in my hc rosiepuff isn't the brothers’ grandma but is actually their great or maybe even their great great grandma, who was alive when the bergens arrived. she was from a family of like “biologists” who studied plants and fungi and knew how to take anything in their natural surroundings and use it as food or to make medicine. they were like witch doctors or folk healers, something in those lines. rosiepuff was pretty young when the bergens arrived and by the time the bergens and trolls implemented trollstice and the rules about picking who gets eaten, she was the only one left from her family. and the troll king at the time chose to excuse/prohibit her from participating in trollstice in the hopes of her passing on what was left of her family’s knowledge about wild plants because they will need it when they escape and will have to survive in the wild and build their society from scratch. so rosiepuff was basically the wise elder at the troll tree and she also drilled her knowledge into all her children and grandchildren and this is why branch and the other four were able to survive so well on their own. especially branch, who lived alone with her for a few years before she died and just hyperfocused on her teachings and his promise to build a bunker. the reason she died the way she did is that chef was experimenting with a new recipe for the bergen prince’s first trollstice so she quickly popped into the cage the day before trollstice and just snatched the first troll she could get her hands on… she basically died just the day before the trolls escaped. :( which is also why clay didn’t find out about it (in my hc clay didn’t escape the troll tree the way jd, spruce and floyd did)

[indouloureux]

Hehe I love your writing, I have a little request! Reader goes to by weed from Eddie but realises they forgot their money so offers to pay Eddie in another way 🤭🤭🤭💦💦

thank you for requesting! <3

18+ mdni. cw: oral (m receiving), anxious!eddie. (eddie calls the reader pretty, but that word can be gender neutral bc i said so) (nobody comment on the robocock thing i could care less)

eddie looks anxious. he sits in front of you with his knees bouncing and his lunchbox open right on this dingy table he'd marked as his. you scratch your cheek, looking at him awkwardly; he refuses to look at you.

but he's blushing, from his cheeks down to chest that disappears behind his raglan 'hellfire' shirt.

"so,"

"so!" it seems as though he's been snapped out of his daze, his back straightening and his palms wiping across his jeans. eddie's curls bounce across his forehead when he stretches his neck. you swallow thickly at the movement. "here for the weed, eh?"

"yep," you clasp your hands together on the table, lips moving to the side. "jazz cabbage. devil's pubes,"

eddie's eyes seethe playfully at you, all his nervosity burnt to the brink. "jazz cabbage is unacceptable. devil's pubes, however. very creative,"

"i have a whole list for it," you chuckle lightly. he laughs, though, carding through the mess inside that metal box of his until he pulls out a bag of that smelly, dark bushy green mess. "'s that it?"

"no, this is spicy lettuce," it's visible how he tries not to roll his eyes.

you stare blankly at him.

"christ- yes, this is it!"

making a sound of realization, you nod your head, playing dumb. eddie's smile returns despite his previous disbelief though. he thinks you're still cute.

"twenty bucks," he places the bag in the middle of the table, right above where your elbows rest. "i'd give you discount but, uh, i'm kinda short on money right now."

"oh?" you take the bag in your hand, observing it like it's something you've just seen. the wind that howls blows lightly on your skin, and at the same time the collar of your blouse. eddie catches a glimpse of the top of your chest and almost chokes at your obliviousness. "how come?"

"i was- uh- planning on renting robocock for a change? great movie, i heard. exceeded the expectations, highly unrealistic but oh-so-dreamy,"

you snort, a hand moving behind to feel up your wallet inside your pocket. you wait for your palms to feel up an acute angle somewhere on your thighs or behind you, but you're patting on the fat of your flesh instead.

"shit," you whisper. quiet, tuned out from the rustling of the trees and the squirrels that run by, but eddie's ear is sharp.

"something wrong?" he tilts his head at you, bottom lip jutted out. his hairy arms sit on the table, hand splayed out, a vein bulging out beneath his tattoos. had you not been panicking, maybe your mouth would have watered at the sight.

"my wallet," you frown. "i- it's not here-"

you jolt your head to him and remember you'd left your wallet inside your room in a rush. eddie's eyebrows raise in a question, fingers fiddling with his ring.

"it's in my bedroom," you groan, sinking your face into your hands and driving your fingers through your hair. "i left it in my bedroom because i was hurrying,"

eddie's lips part in an "oh," hauling his head back. he almost seems... disappointed— with you. or upset, or sad because then the deal will be cut short, or the fact that he wouldn't be able to make some cash today.

you think of a compromise. tutoring? you'd like to bring it up, but you worry you'd might offend him and eddie's the only dealer you know isn't in jail. driving him around? he needs it. he drives like a maniac, from what you'd seen.

you're desperate. you just needed the weed now. you think you might die if you don't; god knows what might happen if you cry all your depression out again.

dolorous, a thought comes up in your mind as you stare at the bag in your hand, flickering your eyes between that plastic and at eddie's—who's waiting patiently for what you want to do next.

you muster up all the courage and brazenness into a ball in your chest that puffs up. eddie leans back, copying you, brown eyes awaiting.

"you've watched porn other than robocock, right?"

—

eddie is a gentleman. so much, in fact that he offered you his beloved vest to kneel on so you wouldn't bruise your knees on the ground.

he looks more nervous than earlier, a bead of sweat falling down his temple, mends with his shirt and leaves a gray spot just below his black collar.

although, people usually sweat whenever they have sex. a little less when they get head.

you litter kisses over the swell of his tip, your hand wrapped around his slowly hardening cock. eddie's hands are fisted beside his thighs, his chest heaving already, eyes watching you carefully — scrutinizing every aspect of yours.

"just relax, munson," you murmur calmly, the flat muscle of your tongue pressing right above his heavy sack, licking slowly up until the thick ridge of his mushroom head. eddie hisses a quiet fuck that sends heat over every vein that builds you. "just think about- how you're in the porn you're watching,"

eddie chuckles. "it is actually like a porn i'm watching. except, y'know, they're usually compromising for pizza than for w-weed—ohhhh christ,"

you envelope your lips around him, cheeks closing in around the throbbing helmet. eddie's eyes drip in inebriated arousal, his hands fighting the urge to grab your hair.

humming around him when he moans louder as both your hands twist and tug on his length, you see the way all the whisky glow of his eyes darken the way a cloud hides the sun behind and glooms everything so melancholily pretty.

eddie's fleshy shaft disappears every time you bob your head. you gag when you take him deeper and your nose digs into his pubes, drool lathering over your chin.

"shit, you're so-..." he finally lets himself push your hair behind and cup your cheek, his nails scraping on your scalp before he clasps his hand on your locks. "so pretty. so fuck- so fucking amazing with this oh god."

you pull away from him with a teasing lick on his leaking slit, the salty taste of his precum that continues to dribble down at the squeeze of your warm hands. "thanks."

you go back to putting your lips on him again, this time a tad bit aggressive. you have the urge to make him cum hard, something you consider as an apology for leaving your wallet and not being able to pay him.

but something about his heavenly sinful sounds, his moans and the way they sound like harmony with the wet sound of his cock fucking your throat keeps sending fountains down your underwear that completely ruins the fabric.

your legs cross, thighs applying pressure on your heating sex. eddie's grip tightens on your hair, and you let yourself indulge just a little bit when you pull out to take his balls into your mouth, hands squeezing on his spit-covered length.

"ohhh, fuck, yeah, that's amazing," you blush at his praise, the loose fuzzy skin of his sack that lays heavy on your tongue. eddie's eyes roll to the back of his head, his rings pressing against your head. he brings himself to look down at you, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. "shit- so much better than fuckin' robocock."

you try not to splutter out a laugh. you see his stomach tense beneath his shirt, his balls clench inside your mouth as you continue to pump him with that lewd sound. eddie's plump lips part into whines and moans that loop around the trees of the forest behind hawkins high.

"better than any other porn out there?" you purr, jerking him off with kitten licks. "do you usually let people suck your dick as payment to fulfill your fantasies or what?"

"shut up," he groans, throwing his head back, hiding his eyes with the back of his hand. "i'm gonna- gonna c-cum—hngh!"

eddie's hips buck in the air when you put him in your mouth again, thrusting and basically fucking your mouth to bring himself to that thrilling feeling of an orgasm.

when he finally cums, it spills down your throat, salty down your taste buds. you pump him, milking him until eddie's telling you it's too much. he watches your cum filled mouth move back and scoop up his seed off the side of your lips and suck if off your finger.

"god, heaven and hell," eddie exhales, watching you do something so filthy. "that was hot,"

"way better than weed," you stand up from between his legs, patting dirt off his vest.

"you should forget your wallet next time," he chuckles, tossing you the bag of weed. then he saunters over to you, leans down until his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. "but uh, maybe instead i should punish you for leaving it behind."

gawping, you laugh and slap his chest. "easy there, peter weller."

[illicitlimerence-writes]

lost in japan | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x vettel!reader word count: 5.5k words request: yes by anon: “could you please write an imagine where mick and reader have a crush on each other but whenever they're together they always get shy or flustered and it's all cute and stuff?” & “may i please have some crumbs of vettel!reader and mick slowly catching feelings for one another and seb is in the front row eating popcorn watching as it unfolds” warnings: language, time jumps (i tried my best with the years and ages (reader and mick are the same age)). also! again! seb’s age makes no sense here!!!!!!!!!!! another thing, i know cherry blossom season is in march-may but let’s pretend it’s also in september-october okay byeeee. a/n: it is 4:30 am and i just finished this, kinda glad bc it confirms my theory that i work best during the night. 

my masterlist 

meeting him was the beginning of everything. 

there was nothing special about their first meeting, but her life would change completely from that moment on.

she always wanted to go with her father to his races, she loved that her dad was so passionate about the sport, everytime he returned home he’d explain everything to her, she always had a million questions. 

so, when she was eleven years old, in 2010, she joined her father, sebastian, for the first time. they traveled to monaco, a track that his father loved and could potentially give him the lead of the championship if he were to win it. 

age 11, 2010.

she held her father’s hand and looked at everything surrounding her. everything was so big and shiny and new to her. 

“woud you look at that?” a tall man said as they walked the paddock. he had a big smile on his face, she recognized him.

“dad, that’s your friend!” she said, pointing at the man. 

“yes, darling, that’s my friend, michael,” seb looked down at her, smiling.

“hi, michael!” she waved her hand, the older german ruffled her hair in return.

“it’s great to finally meet you, and see you here. is this your first time here?” 

“yeah! i’ve always wanted to see this in real life,” her smile was big as she looked at the teams’ motorhomes around her.

“and what’s your first impression?”

“i don’t think i want to leave,” she giggled, looking up at her father.

“well, i’ll let you get back to your tour. but when you have some free time make sure to stop by the mercedes garage, okay? i think my son could use a friend,”

“ah, you’ve brought mick with you?” sebastian asked, his friend nodded. “then he’ll have to come to the dark side, cause my kid is not going anywhere near that garage,” he shook his head, as both his friend and his daughter laughed. 

“we’ll figure it out, these two need to meet, though.”

okay, maybe meeting him did have something special about it. a thought ran through her mind, maybe they’d grow to be as close as their fathers. 

-

age 22, 2021.

“hey kid,” she froze, eyes widening as she turned around.

“dad!” she wrapped her arms around her father, closing her eyes as she hid her face in his chest. “what are you doing here?”

“good to see you’ve missed me, you haven’t called in so long i thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“it was only three days, dad. but i’m so sorry, it’s just… i’ve been busy here, and with the schedules and time difference, i-”

“it’s okay. i’m just happy to know you’re alright,” he smiled, ruffling her hair. 

“i am. i am, it’s… kinda hard to believe that this is finally happening,”

“well after all these years and all your hard work, you deserve this, my love,” he threw an arm over his daughter’s shoulders, holding her close.

after endless classes, auditions, she was finally about to star her first movie as the lead actress. when she was about thirteen an idea got to her head, and it was impossible to get it out. she took as many acting classes as she could, even left her home when she was seventeen to fly overseas and hopefully get more opportunities to be in the spotlight. 

it didn’t surprise sebastian, that his daughter would find her passion in acting. when she was little she used to always set up plays where she portrayed every role, most times recreating a disney movie she’d seen that day. he trusted her. he knew that a child’s dream had to be supported as much as possible, just like his own parents had done with his. 

distance had been difficult at first, but once her first roles started coming, once she started to get so busy she barely had time to sleep, she knew it was all worth it. her first roles were small, but slowly, she caught people’s attention. casting directors, actors she’d worked with were asking to work with her again. it was simply out of this world.

“i- but dad… don’t you have a race this weekend?” she said, walking through the different sets of the studio until she reached her trailer. she was in the middle of shooting, but sebastian arrived just in time since she was about to take a break. 

“yeah, that’s why i’m here. i’d like you to come with me,” 

“dad,” she smiled. it had been years since she stepped foot in the f1 paddock, she remembered when her entire life revolved around that sport, when she wanted to know every detail there was to know about it… that’s not to say that that wasn’t the truth anymore, but her passion for the sport moved aside, leaving space for what would become her job, her favorite thing in her life. of course, she still followed the sport, tried to not miss any races, supporting her father, her favorite person and biggest inspiration. 

“come on, i know you have the weekend off,”

“how did you-” she frowned

“your mother,” he answered. she sighed, but smiled after a second.

“okay. i’ll go”

-

a beautiful ‘before and after’ picture would be created later on the weekend, as she walked side by side with her father down the f1 paddock. just like she’d done when she was little. she was getting deja vu. she was happy she’d decided to join her dad, they didn’t spend as much time together as of lately, but this weekend she was determined to make the most of their time together.

as they walked, sebastian was catching her up on everything she’d missed since the last time she was there, which was about two years ago. she knew some things from speaking with him, and from the things she saw online, but there was nothing like seeing it all in real life. 

they were stopped several times, by fans, journalists, and even people who knew her since she was just a kid. mechanics, engineers, and other team members from both red bull and ferrari.

then, someone caught up to them, embracing sebastian and smiling, her father patted the young man on the back,  keeping a hand on his shoulder once they separated.

“all good?” sebastian asked, the younger blonde nodded, noticing her.

“(y/n)?” he asked, his eyes drifting back and forth between the father-daughter pair. sebastian smiled at the way mick’s eyes widened. he knew it.

she nodded, frowning as she couldn’t quite name the person infront of her. 

“it’s been so long, how have you been?” he asked, smiling.

that was it.

she recognized that smile.

age 11, 2010.

contrary to the previous days, that saturday afternoon, she found herself watching the qualifying session with company. of course, the day before she hadn’t been completely alone, but she wasn’t with people she knew that well.

seb had meant his words, his daughter couldn’t leave the red bull motorhome, not because he didn’t allow it, but because he didn’t trust anyone to really take her through the paddock to the mercedes garage. so, corinna schumacher and her kids, mick and gina, went to find the young girl. 

‘michael, his wife and kids, you can trust them.’ those had been her father’s words before introducing her to them. 

she’d been quite shy at first, keeping to herself and just staring at the screens. she’d already had all of her questions answered during the first two practice sessions, but quali was different. she didn’t get it. 

mick noticed her small frown, and he turned to his mother, who was busy staring at the screens showing michael’s data. 

“mom,” he called, the woman turned to him, running her fingers through his hair, making a mental note to take him to get a haircut soon. “she’s upset,” he said. “why?”  

“well, i don’t know. why don’t you ask her? maybe you can help her feel better.” mick turned his head back, pursing his lips, then nodded.

he walked to the young vettel girl, standing behind her. but he couldn’t figure out how to talk to her. then, he heard her talking to herself.

“why is it only eighteen minutes?” she huffed, her eyes glued to the moving cars.

“are-are you mad?” mick asked her, not thinking twice about his words, or how he could’ve startled her. she jumped, moving to the side and looking back at him.

“what?” she asked.

“are you… upset?” he tried again, raising his eyebrows, he didn’t know why he felt nervous talking to her.

“no. yes. i- i don’t know,” she said, looking back at the wall of screens in front of her. “dad said ‘see you in an hour’, but the clock says there’s only fifteen minutes left,” she pointed.

“oh!” he said, “that’s just the end of q1,” he continued, but she stared at him only with confusion in her face. “sorry, qualifying is divided in three, q1, q2, and q3,” he started, she nodded.

“i know that, but-”

“all qualifying sessions last different times, and when you add it all up it takes about an hour, a little longer sometimes,” he explained, “i know it can be confusing, but that’s why i’m here! and my mom and my sister. we’re here to take care of you. that’s what my dad said,”

“thanks, that’s… nice.”

“you’re welcome. and… i know that our dads are friends. so… maybe we’ll be like them when we grow up!” mick smiled, and her eyes drifted down to his lips, he had a nice smile. she could still see it in her head seconds after, that was a smile she’d never forget.

“i was thinking the same thing.”

–

age 22, 2021.

“mick?” she asked, eyes wide. “no way, you made it to f1?” she asked, eyeing his shirt and cap.

“finally,” he smiled, she chuckled, she remembered hearing him talk non-stop about one day being like his father. she was happy he’d finally reached that dream.

“congratulations! i- that’s amazing!” she smiled, “why didn’t you tell me? any of you?” she asked, looking from her old friend to her father.

“well, you’ve barely had time to pick up the phone and say hi, i didn’t even get a chance,” sebastian shrugged. she turned to mick, raising an eyebrow.

“well i… you know… we haven’t talked in a long time and… i didn’t think you’d care,”

“oh, come on! it’s me! i’ve known you… forever!” she was genuinely shocked that she’d missed this news, “you know you can tell me anything-”

“yeah, she’ll just answer three days later,” her father butted in.

“but i’ll answer,” she defended herself, “anyway, as i was saying before being rudely interrupted, doesn’t matter how much time passes, i’m here for you, yeah?” she smiled, trying to think when the last time they’d spoken was. too long ago.

“got it, and… same goes to you,” he grinned too, and she was immediately transported back to her teenage years. “i have to go, but it was great seeing you, you’re staying the whole weekend?” he raised his eyebrows, smiling as she nodded, “great, guess i’ll see you around,” 

she nodded again, waving her hand at him, but he took a step closer to her, moving to wrap his arms around her, she was caught off guard, but slid her hands around his waist in return. 

“good luck,” she told him, watching him walk away after he said goodbye to sebastian. she turned to her father, and frowned. “what?”

“anything i should know?”

“what?” she asked, seb raised his eyebrows.

“you’re… flustered,” he noticed, she rolled her eyes.

“i’m not,” she grunted, pushing him with her shoulder. seb chuckled, walking beside her, “everything used to be so big,”

“it’s all the same, you just grew up,” he smiled, a nostalgic smile.

“don’t get emotional,” she chuckled.

“you and mick…” seb started, “what… what happened between you two?” 

“what do you mean?” 

“well, one day you wre hanging out, the next it’s like you never knew each other.”

“i don’t know, i mean… i still consider him my friend, you know? like… he was a big part of my adolescence and i just… got busy. but, so did he. i’ve followed his career, well, i must’ve messed up somewhere along the way since i missed the news that he was in f1.”

“maybe this weekend you guys can work on that,” he suggested as they reached the aston martin hospitality. “i’m sure he’s missed you. he always asks me about you,”

“really?” she asked, taking one last look behind her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but he was nowhere in sight.

“every weekend.” seb nodded. “he’s a good kid. you two have my blessing, you know? in case you both ever want to… you know.”

“dad!”

-

age 23, 2022.

seoul had always been one of her favorite cities. the culture, the people, the different traditions compared to what she was used to from living in europe for so long. it was always special when she was there. 

but that night, she wasn’t as ecstatic about being there. 

not when he was so near yet so far at the same time.

it was pathetic, really, to be that infatuated with someone. she’d lived many years without him in her life, and it only took him one weekend to turn her life upside down. 

mick and her father were in japan, it was the last time sebastian would race there, and her stomach hurt at the fact that they were really close, but she was stuck in south korea for the press junket of her first movie, a little over a year’s work was finally ready for the world to see. 

to say that she was stuck would be an exaggeration, she’d arrived a few days before to get used to the time difference, she didn’t have to be there until wednesday, and it was currently monday. and all she wanted to do was get out of there. 

she was being dramatic.

but she did wish she could be there with him. 

her phone rang, and she ran to the bed, picking it up. she smiled as she picked up the call.

“hey,” she said, a smile appearing on her face before even hearing his voice, just reading his name in the contact was enough to turn her stomach upside down, to make her heart beat at high speed.

“hi, i didn’t know if you were busy, i-”

“no, i’m free,” she bit her lip, “how’s japan?”

“well, i actually haven’t had the chance to check it out, i’ve been sleeping all day,” he chuckled, she let herself fall on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“tired?”

“not anymore,” he laughed, which made her chuckle, too. “and you? have you explored seoul yet?”

“ah, well that’s the plan. that’s why i got here a few days before necessary,” she explained.

“oh, that’s nice, i’m sure there’s a ton of things to do there,” mick said, his voice sounding lower than before.

“yeah,” she sighed, “tokyo sounds great right now, though.”

“so does seoul.”

“what a tragedy we are,” she chuckled, biting her lip. “if only… there was a way to solve this,”

“switch places?” mick joked, though there was nearly no humor in his voice.

“maybe… we could get lost in japan.”

“we?"

"you're two hours away," she whispered, standing up and walking to the window, the sun was starting to go down, the best of seoul's night life would be starting soon. "i'm only a couple hundred miles away,"

"do you want to get lost in japan?" he asked, and she could hear the smile on his face.  

"let's get lost."

-

age 22, 2021.

she felt like a little kid again. she remembered the thrill and excitement the pre-race brought, but living it as an adult, after years and years being away from this world, it felt like living it for the first time. 

watching her father get ready, she thought about how lucky she was to have him. he’d taught her to fight for her dreams and not give up until she achieved them, to love people with kindness and give back whenever she could.

there were cameras all over the place, something she’d gotten used to. her eyes shifted from her dad, who was talking to the mechanics, to the screens on the side of the garage. 

after a few seconds, she saw herself. she smiled at her ‘reflection’, turning to the side until she spotted the camera, giving it a small wave before looking back to the screen. she saw herself doing that, then the broadcast changed from her, to mick. who was also smiling at the screen, and the delay allowed her to watch him smile at her. 

she looked down, feeling her face getting flustered. she and mick had been rekindling their friendship that weekend, catching up when he had free time, remembering the days when the paddock was their playground. it was easy and she was happy that they’d had the chance to do it, she felt bad for losing touch with him years ago. 

“it’s time,” her father said, walking to her. she smiled, hugging him. 

“good luck and fight hard,” she said, watching his eyes light up as he recognized those words. the same words she told him the day of her first f1 race. 

after watching her dad step in the car and wait until he drove away, she stood up and walked down the paddock, sneaking into a different garage. 

mick was zipping up his suit, adjusting the velcro strap. her lips curled up as she watched his concentrated face, his eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to be in deep thought. a second later, he turned his head to his side, and he had to do a double take to make sure he was really seeing her there. 

she smiled sheepishly now that she’d been caught, she took one careful step in, relaxing as he walked to her. 

“hey,” she said, smiling wider. “just wanted to wish you good luck,”

“thank you,” he grinned, a light pink tint creeping on his cheeks, “i’m really gonna need it,” he exhaled deeply.

“you’re gonna do great,” she reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “come here,” she pulled him closer, giving him what was supposed to be a quick hug, but he wrapped an arm around her back, keeping her there for longer than what was deemed appropriate. “i know this place brings back a lot of memories, but just enjoy it. it’s your first time here, racing in f1, your dream. you got this, mick.”

after the race she went to the pit lane, hugging her dad, but spotting another blonde german behind him.

“i’ll be right back, dad,” she told him, making her way to mick. “hey, that was so cool. congrats on finishing your first monaco race,” she hugged him, feeling his arms around her back. 

“your dad is watching us. he’s smiling really weird, make him stop, please,” he pleaded, and she turned around to see her dad raise his eyebrows. she rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly at mick.

“it sometimes feels as if he’s the kid. i should go. i’ll talk to you later,” she raised on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

-

age 23, 2022.

she’d landed in tokyo. the city was filled with lights, skyscrapers, and she never wanted to leave. she’d told her dad about her plans, and had arranged a dinner for the three of them. she was the first to arrive, and was waiting for the two drivers to get there. the place was packed, but of course they’d given priority to sebastian vettel and his daughter. her booth was away from the rest of the other tables, it felt closed off and she was glad the place was good for talking. it would be good for catching up with them.

it was night, and she was feeling quite tired after a hectic and busy day, but she had limited time before having to jump back to her own responsibilities. she wanted to make the most of her free time. 

footsteps caught her attention, she looked up, a happy smile on her face.

“mick!” she jumped up from her seat, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. it had been about a month since she last saw him, but she missed him as if it had been years. “how have you been?”

“i’m good, you?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek as his way to say hi. 

“same. i… on my way here i was thinking that maybe… i was overreacting, and that i could’ve just come here after the race and-”

“no, i- it’s fine. actually i- as soon as i landed i just knew that you’d love this place if you were here. so i guess i- i’m glad that you wanted to get lost-” they both smiled at his words, “with me.” the concept of ‘getting lost’ in a new place fascinated her, to be so mesmerized and hypnotized by the people and the little markets and stores, that you forget about time, responsibilities. 

she smiled at him, nodding, she sat back in her place, with mick in front of her. 

“oh, great, i thought i was late,” mick said, sitting in front of her, “your dad’s always pestering me about being on time, and look at him, or- well, you know, you can’t because he’s not here.” he continued, “shutting up now.” he raised his hands as she laughed.

just at that moment her phone rang. 

“sorry,” she excused herself as she picked up her phone. “dad?”

“hey, kid, so… i won’t be able to make it tonight. some last minute thing with the team came up. but! you two enjoy a nice dinner, catch up, behave and use protection,” he rushed the last few words before hanging up. 

she was left with wide eyes and heat creeping up her cheeks, she shyly looked over at mick, thinking about how to explain what her father just said.

“what did he say?” mick asked, still so confused about everything happening.

“um… dad’s not coming, um, he said we should have a nice time and catch up.”

“oh… well, that’s alright with me, if…” he started, raising his eyebrows as he waited for her answer.

“yeah, i- yeah, let’s do it, we’re already here.” she smiled, pushing aside her nerves, reminding herself who she’s with. it’s mick. sweet, kind, thoughtful mick. her friend mick.

mick, who was staring at her with those big, bright blue eyes that took her breath away.

they talked, ate, drank wine and felt as if they were the only people in the world. conversation flowed easily with him, and the best part was that he really seemed interested in watever she was saying, he asked questions, gave suggestions and advice. and when it was his turn to talk, it took everything in her not to swoon right then and there. he spoke with such confidence and eloquence, softly. and even used his hands to emphasize important points.

they had to be basically thrown out of the restaurant, since they’d stayed thirty minutes past their closing time already. but that ddn’t mean they had to go their separate ways. they walked the streets of tokyo, side by side, speaking lowly as to not disturb the people sleeping, even though it seemed that no one was in their homes, since there were lots of people enjoying the nightlife. but it never crossed either of their minds to do anything other than walk and talk, and laugh and smile. mick took his jacket off when he noticed her skin got goosebumps after a particularly strong gust of wind, draping it over her shoulders, his heart stopped at the soft sigh that left her throat as she felt the comforting warmth enveloping her. 

shy smiles and hidden looks when the other was unaware seemed to be their favorite way of communication. their eyes spoke all the words neither of them was ready to speak, perhaps because they didn’t yet know what they were feeling, or couldn’t figure out a way to express it.

he walked her to the hotel, at some point during their walk his hand had found hers.

he’d pulled her close to him, hiding in an alley to avoid a group of drunk men approaching them. it was probably nothing, but mick had been quick to think of a way to avoid them. she’d pressed a hand against his chest, looking up at him as he pressed a finger to her lips, telling her to be quiet. once they passed, and after a few seconds of silence, in which they stared at each other, he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of her head, tugging at her hand to keep walking. she licked her lips, biting her bottom one to try and stop the tingling sensation she was feeling. 

they hadn’t let go, not that either of them wanted to. but as she looked down to their joined hands, once they reached the door leading to his hotel room, she realized she never wanted to let him go. 

he blushed under her stare, tapping his thumb against the back of her hand as he moved his hand back. since her decision to travel to japan had been a really sudden one, most hotels had been booked for the grand prix, and mick had insisted she stayed with him, claiming to have more than enough room for the two of them. 

-

the next day, they woke up early. it was their only full day they had together in japan, and they were both more than ready to get lost in beautiful tokyo. 

their first stop was an electronic store, where she bought an instant camera to capture their adventures of the day. after that they went to have breakfast at a famous cat cafe, which mick was dreading. it’s not like he hated cats, but he was a dog person, and the few times he’d interacted with cats they ended up scratching him, hissing at him or just ignoring him. not this time, a cat immediately crawled in his lap, claiming it as his seat for the day.

he smiled as she took a picture of him and the cat, and he noticed the way her lips curled up softly as she looked at the developed photograph.

that day would go down as one of her favorite days, an entire day with someone who made her feel special, who was almost as excited as she was about doing all the basic tourist stuff.

“i think we really are lost,” mick said, as he stopped in his tracks, making her stop as well. once again, her hand was in his. neither of them noticed when it happened, it just did. but they were both aware of how natural and right it felt. 

“we just have to take a right turn,” she pointed.

“you’re sure?” he raised his eyebrows.

“that’s what the lady said,” she nodded, taking a few steps and dragging him behind her. “see? i told you we’d- whoa!” she whispered, looking at the huge park in front of her, filled with big cherry blossom trees. “mick, look at this,” she tugged on his hand running towards the park. she let go of him as she rushed deeper into the park.

“it’s beautiful,” he said, watching her wide eyes take everything in. she looked beautiful. a big smile on her face as she saw all the trees, the pink flowers. 

“come here, i want to take a picture of you,” she said, making him pose in front of a tree. in the middle of the photograph stood mick, with his signature grin on, and everything behind him was pink. 

“your turn,” he declared once the picture developed. he waited for her to decide how she wanted her picture, but she was simply so taken aback by the beauty of this place, that he decided to capture her like that. with her looking up at the trees, a smile on her face. she didn’t notice him until he was shaking the photograph, and she smiled wide at the gesture. that’s when he snapped a second picture.

“mick!” she laughed, taking the camera from him, he slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close as he shook the picture with his free hand. 

“hold on,” he said, walking to a girl about their age, he asked her to take a picture of the two of them. once he returned to her side, his arm returned to its previous place, bringing her close to him as she slid an arm around his back. before the girl took the picture he looked at her, which caused her to look up at him. they both smiled at the same time, and that’s when the girl took the picture. 

after an entire day out on the streets of tokyo, they went to a sushi restaurant, nothing fancy, just what looked to be like a family-owned business. 

“thank you for spending this day with me,” she said, taking a sip from her water. her throat was dry, her feet ached and her makeup probably needed more than just a touch-up. “i loved every second of it.”

“hey, you don’t need to thank me. i- i really enjoyed this day as well, i felt… free,”

she nodded, sharing the same feeling.

“besides i- i don’t think there’s anyone that i’d rather get lost with, other than you,” he smiled, his hand reaching for hers. she let him intertwine their fingers together, she’d gotten used to the feeling of his hand on hers.

“i feel the same way,” she said shyly, and it was not her turn to watch him get flustered under her stare. 

once they reached their hotel, with the moon and neon lights illuminating the city, they sat on the balcony to look at the pictures they’d taken throughout the day, with a sharpie in hand to write small notes underneath. they watched the cars passing by, head the sounds a big city like tokyo made. when she got cold, instead of getting her a blanket, mick offered to keep her warm, she sat between his legs, with his arms around her.

“this one is my favorite,” she said, smiling at the picture of the two of them standing in front of the cherry blossoms.

“mine too,” he tightened his arms around her. she leaned her back against his chest, looking up at him.

“what should we name it?” she asked.

“hmm, i’m not sure,” he replied, staring deeply into her eyes. “would ‘lost in japan’ be too obvious?” he asked.

“maybe,” she chuckled. “i know i’ve already said it but… i just wanted to thank you. i really- i can’t describe how much i loved getting lost with you.”

“and i already told you, i only want to get lost with you. and you know what the best part about getting lost is?”

“what?” she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“being found. i- i want… i want to be the person you get lost with, and the one to find you. i want to explore the world by your side, and be consumed by the beauty of it, at the same time as i’m learning more about myself… and about you.”

“mick-”

“i’ve liked you, for so long. i think you were my first crush since back in the day. the years when you went away, when we lost touch, i’d convinced myself that i’d lost you forever, and would only have to know about you through your dad. but after last year… in monaco, when i saw you i just knew. i couldn’t let you go again. and i’ve loved every moment, every conversation we’ve shared since that weekend, i’ve loved getting to know you, and knowing that the kid i knew is still in here,” he tapped her chest, where her heart was, with one finger. “and getting lost with you these few days has been the best choice i’ve ever made. i not only got lost in this place… i also got lost in you. in your mind, your ideas and dreams. it’s like a paradise.”

she cut his words off by placing her lips on his. after years, they were both admitting that this thing between them was more than just a friendship, that the reason they couldn’t get the other out of their minds wasn’t just because they were good friends. 

getting lost might have been the best decision they ever took. and having the right partner to get lost with. with the promise that they’d find each other during each adventure.

[thatstheproblemwithnapkinman]

disclaimer, i cannot write movies, this is just how i want the batman 2 to go

ok

we get a batman fight, dark and gritty but not as much as the batman 1, which then bleeds into some bruce wayne philanthropist stuff, not massively brucie wayne but it's creeping in there and we see that bruce is trying to help rebuild gotham but better ( we see this throughout the movie btw, just little snippets)

and then we see it from a distance, no people, but whisperings about something

anyway, in this endeavour to make gotham better haly's circus comes to gotham and we get shots of bruce in the audience and then the graysons die and we get more shots of the audience including one lingering on a little toddler with black floppy hair and blue eyes

batman appears and comforts dick and that's the last of that

then we cut to bruce trying to do some stuff at WE and he goes out onto a balcony or a rooftop to take a phone call or something (maybe as batman from jim gordon) and then he gets attacked by the assassin, and we don't really see the assassin in full, just a black mass with some gold flashes, and idk how but the assassin gets interrupted and jumps off the roof and bruce is still alive

so he's trying to figure out who or what that was and is looking at it on the bat computer (maybe he got some of it's clothing or something he can track) and gets a ping so goes to investigate and on the way he bumps into this little 9 year old who's on the rooftop of some building (hmmmm i wonder who it is)

it's dick, he's trying to track down the man who killed his parents (you knew this) and bruce is like "nO don't do that it's dangerous" and dick is like "but someone needs to"

anyway bruce takes dick back to the orphanage or wherever he is and has lost the trail for the assassin

this happens multiple times (montage time bois) and we see bruce finding dick on patrol, on rooftops and in dangerous situations and basically his dad senses are tingling and he decides to foster dick, so goes and picks him up and takes him to the manor

note: dick does not know that bruce is batman

anyway, bruce catches dick. trying to sneak out one night and the conversation goes like:

bruce: whatchadoin? dick: finding the man who killed my parents, people like that shouldn't be in the world" bruce: you want to kill him dick: justice bruce: murder isn't justice, it's revenge

he takes dick back to bed and goes out to finally track down the assassin BUT during this he get's a call from alfred going "bruce, dick is missing" so bruce is freaking out bc he's had this child for less than a day and he's lost him until a ransom comes up telling bruce wayne to go to x location

so he does and he himself gets kidnapped but he escapes once he's wher he should be, he suits up (bc he managed to get the suit there, either under his stupid coat or something i'm not good at this)

he finds his way to this arena where dick is being held but he's not tied up or anything, he's just kind of stood there, and there's the assassin, stood there, looking at him through golden goggles (how else would you describe it)

and surrounding them on a higher level are loads of people in black dresses and suits and white masks that resemble barn owls

it's the motherfuckin' court of owls

and bruce is like "i saved bruce wayne, i'm here to take the boy back home" and the person near dick is like "how about we let the boy choose, back to bruce wayne, where you will be paraded around as his community service project, or with us, where we can train you to get justice for your parents deaths, to take his life like he took you parents lives, and also that dude in the weird owl costume is your undead great-great-grandfather" and dick is stood there trying to choose and bruce says "murder isn't justice, it's revenge" and dick has his little lightbulb "omg bruce wayne is batman" moment, flashback to batman being the only person to comfort him at the circus, and he chooses bruce (obviously)

bruce fights the court and wins (badly injured tho) and they go home

we get a short shot of the court still existing like the gray son of gotham will be ours" and then we go to wayne manor, a few weeks later

dick is swinging from a chandelier and bruce calls for him to get down, he does and runs over to bruce and alfred in the sitting room and he's like "can i see it yet?" and bruce takes him to the batcave, dick bounces around before coming back to bruce

and bruce is like "we will find the man who killed your parents and make sure he is put away for life" and dick is like "we?" and bruce is like "yes"

dick takes the oath, which ends with the bruce calling him robin,

credits roll

[aerequets]

I really liked the scene you drew for the fanfic Once more with feeling. Do you have other fanfics recommandations? PS. I love your art :3

thank you! :D and yes of course i do 😎 i have this list (twiyor) from a while ago but i have amassed more than enough new faves to make a new one!

i will try to get a mix of fics w/ different vibes, and different lengths, as well as those that you may not have heard of before. most if not all of them will be twiyor tho, bc that's what i read most.

i'll put them under the cut!

FUN FACT i spent like 45 mins writing a list and SOMEHOW DELETED IT ALL. so this is take 2 😭😭😭😭 ANYWAYS

The Woman in Red by @nightofnyx8

rated M, 7/7 chaps, 47.9k words

this fic feels like a book to me if i was already invested in the characters. it revolves around yor, who gets an assignment to find out where a bunch of trafficked girls are being kept by the asshole of the millenium, vito cohen. it is also post reveal, post relationship twiyor. this fic has dark moments just by virtue of the subject matter, but none of it feels gratuitous if that makes sense? like every bit of violence lends to the whole picture. there are also some Steamy ™ twiyor moments, which are easily skippable if that's not your thing, but their whole relationship here is just written so well. the trust is there and the protective loid vibes are 👌 i m m a c u l a t e

Smoldering by @julphines

rated G, 1/1 chaps, 2.1k words

i freaking love the look into post reveal, pre relationship twiyor we get here. it's not overtly romantic but instead them getting to know each other. i especially love the details of them having to make themselves be vulnerable in some ways because they just aren't used to it. a really nice, in-between sort of fic :)

In Love With the Distance by Newt on ao3

rated T, 37/37 chaps, 21.5k words

this one is formatted as a collection of letters and i am OBSESSED. i think the author does a very good job getting the character voices down, and the fact that the progression in their relationship is clear despite being in this letter format will never cease to amaze me. it's also incredibly consistent and has cute 'ciphers' at the top that are used to disguise the letters. this one is also post reveal, and kinda follows what happens immediately after. some bits are outside the letter format, but for the most part, it's loid and yor writing to each other. love

La Vie En Rose by @jubileen

rated T, 1/1 chaps, 3.7k words

i love me a good ol 5+1 fic, and this one did not disappoint 😌 i especially liked how the thing that is being counted here (you know, the "five times x and one time x") is not explicitly stated each time. it's something that is as slowly revealed to the reader as it is to the characters, which is a nice touch. and there are more things you catch after a reread, which i am also a great fan of!

An Ever Fixed Mark by Spiraling (Stormwind13) on ao3

rated T, 3/3 chaps, 3.8k words

soulmates that share wounds!!!!!! need i say more?? ALSO, there's some GORJUS artwork in this fic! actually, the first "chapter" is just the cover page, and then in the third chapter is another illustration which is so well done! so that's a plus :) this fic has the nice ol heartwrenching mix of backstory and present for the characters, another plus!

this fic is restricted tho, so u gotta be logged into ao3 to read it 🙏

Love, He was Certain by toteally on ao3

rated M, 1/1 chaps, 3.2k words

this one is so funny and good to me bc loid goes head empty seeing fruit juice dribble down yor's chin KJFDHSJ i love when overthinking characters suddenly can't form a thought at the most mundane of happenings. ALSO the thing fics/books do when the title comes up and you're like OHHHH THERE IT IS!!! yeah that as well

Macabre Theme and Variations by @piracytheorist

rated T, 15/15 chaps, 66.6k words (lol)

WOOOO TIME LOOP FIC! yet another thing that i am a fan of :DD although HEED THE WARNING because there IS violence but there is also a happy ending. this fic follows twilight as he goes through the same day over and over again and tries not to die a horrific death forever. mans gets more trauma, BUT he also gets character progression and a happy ending so fair trade off right 🤔 (yes. the answer is yes)

anyways, this list is hardly even the tip of the iceberg. there's also my bookmarks which, at the time of writing this post, are at 354... most of which are sxf/twiyor.... so yeah LMAO obviously i couldnt put all of them into this post but definitely check those out. i've also got my own works if you're interested but hopefully this list contains fics you have not yet read, and that you will like 🙏🙏

(if your fic is on this list and you haven't been tagged + would like to be, pls let me know!)