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bunnys-kisses · 2 days

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ferrari blood

toto wolff

cw: smut/pwp, vampire!toto, driver!reader, blood (drinking), jealousy, possessive!toto, human!reader, missionary position, intimacy

i know i'm on vacation, but this is a little thing for a server i'm in to celebrate halloween! i'll see you all again on sunday <3

toto liked you in red. while not the colours of his team, he found it brought out your complexion so beautifully that it would be a shame to deny himself your beauty. toto remembered when the colour was associated with courage and sacrifice.

but you were no sacrifice, in fact you were a willing participant. so when you dressed in red, he associated it with heat, passion, love. and toto loved you in all shades of red. except for one.

"schatzi. my little light." toto said in a calm voice as he leaned forward, "why are you wearing that ferrari t-shirt?"

you looked at toto for a moment. you could feel his hungry gaze on you, "oh yeah! i spilled some of my dinner all over my shirt and carlos was nice enough for me to borrow one of his."

toto narrowed his eyes, "carlos? where were you that he had an extra shirt lying around?"

you blinked at him, "oh, i was in his driver's room with charles." then smiled, "they invited me for some take out before we left for england tomorrow, sir." you then added, "i thought having something in my stomach wouldn't make me... pass out like last time."

it was a tradition, you'd let your vampire team principal have a bit of your blood. and you would end up more relaxed for the upcoming race. it was as simple as that. toto was dressed in a button up white shirt and dark slacks.

"i love you in red, my little light." he said as he relaxed against the couch, "but not that kind." he eyed your figure, "you never looked right in ferrari."

you stepped towards him. if he had his way, you'd be dressed in something nicer. a sharper fit that highlighted the curves he adored. something low cut that showed off your beautiful breasts and the slope of your neck. ferrari red would never be able to present you to your fullest potential, just as racing for them would not make you win the world championship.

he patted his thigh and you walked towards him. slow careful steps, less like a nervous deer and more like a self assured woman. he smirked, you were teasing him. how cute.

"i think i look just fine." you responded as you got yourself onto your lover's lap. you felt his fingers drag across your neck and you leaned into his touch lovingly.

"i would disagree." toto replied before he showed you his fangs. vampire fangs out of a movie. the first time you saw them, you got scared but now you eagerly pressed yourself further against him. he smiled a little, "i hope he didn't like this shirt." then took you by the back of the neck.

you shuddered, nipples grew hard in your bra as toto sank his teeth into your neck. you held onto his shoulders tightly. the feeling of being bit in such a way was intense. you clawed at toto's strong shoulders while he drank your blood.

you felt the nerves of the upcoming race melt from your core. and toto felt the curl of possessiveness form in his gut. you were his sweet, darling angel. his little light. you should be treated as such, not marked with the logo of ferrari.

"toto." you whimpered as you felt your heart race and toto devour more blood. you trusted toto, he had self control. it was you, his little human, that didn't. you clung onto him tightly as a bit of blood got into the shirt, staining it a deeper red.

something often happened when toto had a taste of your blood. the anxiety you felt before a race was replaced with a heated lust in your core. you squirmed against him but toto's strong grip kept you close to him. you whined a little bit and felt your core throb as he dragged his tongue across wounds and stopped the bleeding. he was sated, but you had your blood seeped into the collar of the ferrari shirt.

"see, my little light. this red is more beautiful on your skin." then made you look at him. you could see the lust in his dark eyes. he was a vampire, but also a possessive old man. if this were a horror novel you'd be the damsel in distress. but you didn't feel like you were in distress. instead you watched your lover lean back on the couch and you straddled his waist.

you ran your hands across his chest and giggled a little bit at the sight of your lover. you felt a thud in your chest, the blood missing made you a bit lightheaded but that could also be from the immense pleasure you felt racing through your core.

"toto."

he chuckled and grasped your hips, "i know, my little light. but i cannot have sex with you while you are still clothed. how are you feeling, does your head hurt?"

you shook your head, "all good!" then smiled at him.

toto smiled at him, blood stained his teeth, "excellent, i don't need my favourite driver to get sick on me." he reached for you and cupped your face the way you would a puppy.

you giggled and leaned into his touch, all cute but dopey smiles. you looked painfully cute. toto helped you off his lap and got up off the couch, he took you by the hand and led you to the bedroom. toto got the t-shirt off your pretty body as soon as he could, he wanted to see the shirt burned. he watched your wobble a little when you tried to get your jeans off before you were face first in the bed in just your underwear.

even after centuries of living, toto still found new things to love about you. he admired your figure as he took off his button up and the shirt underneath. you rolled onto your stomach and got your bra off then your panties. eventually all clothes ended up on the floor.

toto could see the bite he left you already bruising a little, and when he got onto the bed with you, he traced the marks her left. he said, "your blood tastes sweeter than any wine on earth. it pulls me in. you are an enticing woman, and you drive me crazy." he said, his cock stood at full attention, he could feel the thump of want in his body.

you felt heat in your cheeks as he pressed himself up against you. your legs wrapped around his waist. you gazed into your lover's eyes and swallowed. you heard the stories of the vampires, but yet, toto was an enticing creature. made from the night, he pulled you into his world. not only were you his racing star, you were also the woman that he cherished. even if you never let him touch a drop of your blood, he would still yearn for your warm touches across his cold soul.

his world had become so much brighter with a little warmth in it. from the love of a human. he kissed his marks on your neck before he sank his cock into you. he felt you tense up from the intrusion, but then relaxed a moment later. you accepted him wonderfully.

"you did wonderful today." he said, "both on the track and in my lap. you raced with such beauty, i don't know why you still get so anxious." his voice was tender, but his thrusts were a little harder. you whined under him and he continued to speak, "you are more beautiful than any other driver to cross the paddock. your are the sun and i am simple a creature that yearns for your light."

you thought about turning your head away from him from the intensity of his words. you whined a little when he made you look at him. you squirmed a little bit and felt the leap in your chest. no words were spoken, only your sweet noises.

"don't look away from me." he said, "i wish to see your beauty as i fuck you." he smiled at you as he continued to thrust against you. he watched your body shift from the pleasure and he thought that you looked perfect under him. this would be the racer who wins it all, and toto would spoil you in return. he knew deep down he'd eventually turn you into a vampire, but he would love to spend eternity with you. his beloved bride, his racer, his light. he kissed you once more as he held onto you hips with both hands once more. he moved against you and felt comfort in his movements. you brought a life into toto's life that had been absent since his days as a human. even the sun he could walk in now was nothing like the sun you brought into his life.

his lips found your neck once more where he carefully nipped at the soft skin, he touched the other side of your neck. he remained close to you as he sank his teeth into your neck once more. he felt the blood in his mouth and the pleasure against his nerves. paired with the sharp sounds of your want for him. you squirmed a little and he kept you pinned with his larger frame.

he always stood so tall against you like a shadow. he could be so imposing, but when you looked at him, you never felt fear. not even with the fangs and the thirst for blood. instead you happily made your boss and lover happy with healthy drinks of blood. it wasn't like you were running out of it.

it was better for him to take it from you then lose control and harm someone else, or himself. you needed your lover happy, you needed him in a clear mind to navigate you towards victory. and when he pulled his mouth away from your neck, his lips stained with blood. you pulled him in for a hot kiss, with your hands in his dark hair. he pushed into your further, his pace relentless and you felt the buzz of heat in your brain.

"look at you." toto said softly, "perfect for me." he chuckled a little as he leaned in to lick a bit of blood off your lips. why would he ever want another when he had you.

his movements continued and you arched your back a little bit from all the pleasure. you once joked that toto spent all that time as a vampire figuring out how to make a woman orgasm. he said that sometimes it took the right partner. and that was exactly what you were.

his perfect partner.

it took a long time, but now he had you. and as he felt orgasm throb in the back of his mind, he continued to fuck you. and you continued to hold onto him. the two of you kissed once more with the throb in your neck. even pressed so tightly against him.

you whined a little louder as you felt the pleasure from head to toe, you clung to your vampire lover. you said, "please, toto."

"i'll always have you." he said as he gave you the pleasure you needed. he felt you tighten around him and with a few more heavy thrusts, you came while you held onto him as tight as you could.

he shuddered at the feeling of your climax. he pulled you into another heated kiss and felt his own orgasm wrack through him. a few heavy thrusts and he finished inside of you.

after the peak of climax, you relaxed with your hands on the soft covers. you swallowed and looked up at your lover with a heated glance. you shifted a little as he pulled out and you took him by the arms and pulled him next to you in bed.

you put a leg over his hips as you held his face. even though he was older, he had remained unchanged for decades. you joked that he was an old man and he said that if you kept talking like that, he was going to show you that he was a young man in ways that counted.

"i wait for it, sir." you replied as you kissed him once more.

"how are you feeling, my little light?"

you nodded, "i'm alright, just a little bruised. have you had your fill, toto?" you held his face and smiled at him. you looked a little more tired after two feedings and one fucking.

but toto held you close and kissed you cheek, feeling the heat on your skin. your precious blood under the skin. he replied, "of course, even a drop is more than enough."

you giggled and stayed close to him on the bed.

he added, "but, my little light." he took you by the chin to look at him, "never wear that awful red again." then kissed you. <3

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be4chywritez · 7 hours

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sweet like honey | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

"you're to sweet for me."

Max doesn't like how nice you are towards him.

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Max isn't sure why he doesn’t like you. You’ve never wronged him, never talked bad about him, or been rude in any way. But for some odd reason, Max hates you.

Maybe it’s the Verstappen genes kicking in, that innate tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it’s bred into him to keep sweet things like you at a distance. So, you can imagine his shock and horror when he sees you perched on the couch, flipping through a book in his friend’s Italian villa.

Your eyes meet his, and a smile graces your lips. You place the book in your lap, and he watches as your eyes brighten at the sight of him, the same way they might light up at the sight of a pretty flower.

Your small yellow sundress barely covers your upper thighs, and Max can’t help but stare before quickly looking down at his phone, not wanting to be too obvious about his boyish gawking.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice warm and rich like honey, drawing his attention whether he wants it or not.

He hears you, of course, but pretends to focus on his phone. His thumb moves slowly over the screen, though nothing he sees holds his interest. It’s the way you say his name that sticks in his mind, making it impossible to ignore.

“It’s nice to see you,” you continue, your tone sincere as if you mean it more than you should. You settle back into the cushions, your dress slipping a little higher on your thighs, and he catches himself glancing before looking away again.

Max lets out a quiet huff, his eyes still fixed on his phone, but his attention is all on you now. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he murmurs, his voice lower than usual, almost guarded.

You shift, crossing your legs under you, the air feeling warmer, closer. “A surprise, I guess,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips, the kind that lingers, soft and effortless.

Max clenches his jaw, forcing himself to look back at his phone. Still, he’s hyper-aware of your presence, of the subtle scent of your perfume lingering in the room. He swallows hard, trying to steady himself, even as his chest tightens.

“Yeah,” he mutters, almost under his breath, like he’s afraid to say anything else, and you let the moment settle, content with the quiet between you.

Just then, his best friend Jamie stumbles in, holding a glass of chardonnay. “Maxie,” he coos, squishing Max’s cheeks together, making his lips pucker. Close behind comes your best friend, Mila—Jamie’s girlfriend.

A few others join the group, a mix of Jamie and Mila’s friends, and Max’s brow furrows as he realizes that they’re all couples. He internally groans, watching your eyes flit around like a lost puppy.

“Alright, everyone,” Mila announces with a clap of her hands, “time to head up. We’ve got a long day ahead tomorrow.”

One by one, the group starts dispersing, grabbing their things and heading upstairs. Max lingers, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, but he’s acutely aware of you standing up from the couch, smoothing down the hem of your dress.

You move with an easy grace, slipping past him with a soft, “Goodnight, Max.” There’s no sarcasm, no bite—just genuine kindness that he doesn’t understand. You flash him a small smile before heading toward the stairs.

Max’s jaw tightens as he watches you go. You’re far too calm, far too kind for his liking. It makes him uncomfortable, like you’re holding a mirror up to the way he behaves, forcing him to see the stark contrast between you.

He takes a deep breath, tucking his phone into his pocket, and follows behind the group. The villa is beautiful, the soft glow of the lights casting long shadows across the walls as everyone makes their way to their respective rooms. His room is at the far end of the hall, and as he reaches it, he notices you standing just outside the door next to his.

“Looks like we’re neighbors,” you say lightly, your voice warm and soft. You hold your toothbrush and a towel, your yellow sundress replaced by pale pink silky pajamas, and there’s something almost disarming about how comfortable you seem.

Max nods, his expression neutral. “Yeah.”

You don’t push the conversation, only smile again as you step into your room. “Sleep well, Max,” you say over your shoulder, as if you mean it.

He huffs quietly, more out of habit than frustration, and slips into his own room. The door closes with a soft click, and he leans back against it, rubbing a hand over his face.

For a moment, he stands there, in the silence of the room, staring at nothing in particular. He doesn’t know why your kindness unsettles him so much. It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but that’s exactly the problem. You’re too nice. Too understanding. And for some reason, it gets under his skin.

Max changes into a T-shirt and shorts, moving about the room on autopilot. He keeps hearing your voice, soft and sweet, lingering in his thoughts.

Finally, he pulls back the covers and slides into bed, trying to shut everything out. But it’s quiet now—too quiet. And even though you’re just on the other side of the wall, he can’t stop thinking about you.

In the middle of the night, he’s still awake, tossing and turning, when there’s a soft knock on his door. Max sits up, frowning slightly, wondering who it could be at this hour.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pads across the room, opening the door just a crack. It’s you, standing there, a little sheepish, your arms crossed lightly over your chest.

“Sorry,” you whisper, barely audible, “I didn’t mean to bother you. It’s just… my room's really hot. I think the AC is broken.”

Max blinks, unsure of what to say at first. Part of him wants to tell you to deal with it yourself, but another part of him can’t ignore it.

His eyes linger on you more than he’d admit—your hair sticking to your neck from sweat, your cheeks flushed, and you nibble your lip nervously. Your tank top has ridden up, a sliver of your hip exposed, and Max does everything in his power to push those thoughts away.

“Uh… you could just crack open a window,” he suggests, his voice a bit rough from sleep. He knows the words sound hollow even to him. He doesn’t want you in his space, yet part of him doesn’t want you sweating alone either.

You fidget slightly, your gaze dropping to the floor. “I tried, but it didn’t help. I just thought… maybe I could crash in here?” The words hang in the air, hopeful yet tentative.

Max’s heart races at the idea. The prospect of sharing the bed makes his palms sweat. It’s one thing to be in the same room, but sharing a bed? He hesitates, biting the inside of his cheek as he weighs his options.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” he asks, trying to sound casual, but there’s a hint of something deeper in his tone. The image of you curled up beside him—too close for comfort—sends a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah, no, you’re right,” you offer a nervous smile, clearly not wanting to invade his space, so you back away, ducking into your room. He watches you until the door is shut behind you.

Max stands in the doorway, his heart racing as he processes the moment. He’s not sure why he feels such a strong urge to call you back, to insist that it’s okay, but the words remain stuck in his throat. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of irritation and something else—something he’s not ready to name.

As he paces back to his bed, he tries to shake off the lingering image of you standing there, your flushed cheeks and nervous smile. He lies down again, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you’re just a wall away.

A few moments pass before he hears a soft, muffled noise from your room—a sniffle, maybe? It makes his chest tighten at the thought of you crying because you're uncomfortable.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself, tossing an arm over his eyes. He’s not going to sleep if he keeps thinking about you like this.

After what feels like an eternity of tossing and turning, he finally sits up, his decision made. He stands up, his heart pounding in his chest, and makes his way to your door. He raises his hand to knock but hesitates, uncertainty flooding in.

“Why the hell am I doing this?” he mutters, his self-doubt creeping back in. But the thought of you feeling uncomfortable alone is enough to push him through. He knocks softly, the sound barely more than a tap.

“Hey,” you call from inside, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, his voice worse than he intended. “I… just thought maybe you could come back. It’s probably not that hot here.”

There’s a brief silence, and he can imagine the look on your face—surprised and perhaps a little hopeful. “Really?” you ask, and he can’t help the slight smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

The door swings open, revealing you still in your silk-clad pajamas. He rips his gaze away, feeling a tightness in his throat. He doesn't utter a word, just turns around, walking to his room. He can hear your feet padding behind him, and you close the door behind the both of you.

Max keeps his back to you as you quietly follow him into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The air feels heavier now, thick with unspoken tension as you stand there in the dim light, waiting for him to say something. But Max doesn’t. Instead, he heads straight for the bed, pulling back the covers on one side, his movements stiff and a little too deliberate.

“You can take the right side,” he mutters, not looking at you, as he slides under the covers on the left. His heart is pounding, though he tries to act like everything is fine.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether to thank him or just keep quiet. Deciding not to push it, you simply nod, even though he isn’t looking at you. You cross the room and slip into the bed beside him, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he can feel the same tension thrumming between you that you do. The bed feels impossibly small now, the space between you a thin sliver of air that crackles with awkwardness.

You lie still, facing away from him, but you can feel his presence—so close and yet so distant. The sound of his steady breathing fills the room, and you wonder if he’s doing the same as you, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself to sleep.

Minutes stretch on, and the silence between you is deafening. Every creak of the bed, every shift in the sheets seems louder in the stillness of the night. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice so soft it barely breaks the silence. You don’t expect a reply, and for a few moments, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing.

Then, finally, Max shifts slightly beside you. “Yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, his voice low and rough, but there’s something different in it now. Something that isn’t as cold as before.

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he isn’t as indifferent as he wants you to think. You curl up a little more, trying to make yourself comfortable, even as the tension lingers in the air between you.

As the night drags on, you begin to drift in and out of sleep. The heat from the earlier part of the night is gone now, replaced by a cooler breeze that drifts in through the open window. The sheets are soft, and for the first time since you entered Max’s room, you start to relax.

Just as you’re on the edge of sleep, you feel something shift again. Max turns slightly, the mattress dipping as he moves closer—just barely, but enough for you to notice. His arm brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin sends a small jolt through you.

You stay perfectly still, wondering if he did it on purpose or if he’s just restless. Either way, you don’t move, afraid to disturb the delicate balance between you.

Your mind races—what if you roll over onto him in your sleep? What if you start snoring?—and the nerves bubble up, spilling out before you can stop yourself.

“So… I haven’t slept in a guy’s bed in ages,” you blurt out, staring at the ceiling. Max barely reacts, his only acknowledgment a low, noncommittal “Mhm,” but it doesn’t stop you from talking.

“Yeah, it’s been, like… a long time. I’m more of a 'sleep with a thousand pillows' kind of person, you know? Gotta have the right setup.” You laugh a little, mostly to yourself, feeling the need to fill the quiet. Max doesn’t respond, but you keep going, too nervous to stop. “Oh, and I’m really bad with directions, like, I get lost in grocery stores. Once, I ended up in the freezer aisle for thirty minutes just trying to find the cereal.”

“Mhm.”

His replies are half-hearted at best, but you don’t mind. If anything, the sound of his quiet indifference weirdly helps soothe your nerves.

“Oh! And I can’t swim,” you say with a laugh, thinking it’s just another random fact to throw out there. But this time, Max’s head snaps toward you.

“You came to the amalfi coast, and you can’t swim?” he asks, his voice sharper than before, with a hint of amusement. His eyes narrow slightly, and you can’t help but grin.

“Yeah,” you reply, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “Figured I’d just, you know… stay on the shore.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “That’s stupid.”

“Maybe,” you say, laughing softly, your nerves easing a bit. “But I’m good at other things. Like… did you know I can recite the entire script of Finding Nemo? Well, mostly.”

Max rolls his eyes, but there’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Great skill.”

You keep talking, the words flowing easier now. Your voice fills the room, soft and rhythmic, and even though Max doesn’t say much, you can feel the tension in the air start to shift. His body relaxes slightly, the space between you feeling a little less awkward.

“And another thing, I’m a terrible cook. Burnt spaghetti once. Didn’t even think that was possible. It’s water and noodles, right?” You laugh again, and this time Max lets out a quiet huff—almost like a chuckle, though he’d never admit it.

Your voice is like a steady hum, lulling the room into a gentle calm. You talk about everything and nothing, the words spilling out in a quiet stream. Max listens, his responses becoming softer, almost inaudible, but it doesn’t matter. His breathing slows, his eyes fluttering shut as your voice washes over him.

You don’t notice when he finally drifts off, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. But somehow, you feel it—the way the energy in the room has shifted, his earlier sharpness melted away into something softer, more relaxed.

The next morning, sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stir first, the warmth of the bed enveloping you, your body reluctant to wake. For a moment, you forget where you are, and then it hits you—Max’s bed, Max’s room. You blink your eyes open slowly, turning your head slightly to see him still there, asleep.

He’s lying on his back now, the sheets tangled around his waist, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. His face is serene, the harsh lines you’ve come to associate with him softened by sleep. His hair is slightly tousled, giving him an almost boyish look, something so different from the hard-edged man who usually glares at you.

You feel a strange flutter in your chest as you look at him, this version of Max—unguarded, vulnerable. It’s a side of him you never thought you’d see, and it’s almost too intimate, too close. You shift a little, trying not to make any noise, but the bed creaks softly under your weight.

Max stirs, his brows furrowing slightly as he slowly wakes up. His eyes open halfway, still hazy with sleep, and for a brief moment, he looks at you without the usual edge in his gaze. It’s like he’s forgotten for a second who you are, where he is.

Then, reality seems to settle back in, and his eyes narrow ever so slightly, though there’s no real malice there. Just a kind of gruff annoyance.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, his voice rough and low, thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” you reply softly, offering a tentative smile.

He shifts, pushing himself up on his elbows, the sheet falling further down his waist, revealing more of his toned torso. You can’t help but glance, quickly averting your eyes when you realize you’re staring.

Max runs a hand through his messy hair, yawning as he glances at you. “You talk a lot in your sleep too, or is that just when you’re awake?” he asks, a hint of that familiar sarcasm creeping back into his tone, though there’s no real bite behind it.

You chuckle lightly, relaxing a little. “Only when I’m awake, I promise.”

He grunts, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. For a moment, neither of you says anything, the silence between you less awkward than you would’ve expected. It’s almost… comfortable.

Max stretches, his muscles flexing slightly as he does, and you try not to let your eyes linger too long. You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t seem to notice.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence, “how’d you sleep?”

He glances back at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he shrugs. “Fine, I guess.” There’s a pause, and then he adds, almost begrudgingly, “Didn’t mind all the talking.”

Your heart skips a beat at that, the small admission catching you off guard. You smile, warmth spreading through you. “Glad to know I didn’t annoy you too much.”

Max doesn’t respond, just grabs his phone from the nightstand and checks the time. But you catch the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips before he turns away.

He stands, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his hair again before heading toward the door. “We’re leaving for breakfast soon,” he mutters. “Don’t take too long.”

He steps out before poking his head back in his face serious, “Don’t tell anyone about this,” he says gesturing a finger around towards you and him, right asshole Max is alive and well.

“Right.” you deflate, but none the less walk to your room. You notice the AC now works.

The warmth of the Italian sun is already starting to filter in through your window as you slip into your pale yellow babydoll dress. The soft fabric feels light against your skin, perfect for the warm weather and the laid-back vibes of the villa.

When you finally make your way downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and pastries fills the air, and you can hear the familiar hum of laughter and chatter. The villa’s terrace is bathed in sunlight, with everyone seated around the large outdoor table, enjoying breakfast.

Max is already seated, of course, his usual stoic expression in place. He’s leaning back in his chair, sunglasses on, making it impossible to tell if he’s even noticed you.

An array of colorful fruits and pastries litters the table, couples chatting and laughing as you offer everyone a warm smile while taking a seat next to Mila, who returns the gesture. “How was the room, darling?” she asks, taking a sip of her tea. You can feel a pair of laser beams on your face, as if Max is staring into your soul.

“Oh, it was truly nice,” you reply, feeling the tips of your ears heat up with nerves. Mila seems to buy it and turns to address the entire group.

“So, guys, today we’re going to take the yacht around,” she announces, eliciting a few excited hoots from your friends. Your stomach tightens at the thought of being stuck on a yacht, but you brush the anxiety aside.

As the chatter around the breakfast table grows, the knot in your stomach tightens at the mention of the yacht. You toy with the edge of your napkin, trying to suppress the wave of nerves that accompanies the idea of being out on the water, especially since you can’t swim.

Max, still leaning back in his chair, tilts his head slightly in your direction, as if he senses the unease radiating off you. His sunglasses shield his eyes, but you swear you can feel his gaze tracing over you. A small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can almost hear his voice echoing in your mind: “You came to the Amalfi Coast, and you can’t swim?”

You swallow hard, forcing a smile as you join in on the group's excitement, even though the thought of being surrounded by water sends a shiver down your spine. Mila stands, gathering everyone’s attention, and starts guiding the group toward the dock.

The villa’s outdoor space spills into a sprawling garden, leading to a private path that takes you to where the yacht is docked. The sunlight glints off the water, almost blinding in its brightness, as you walk with the others toward the sleek, luxurious yacht. Everyone seems thrilled—laughing and talking about the views they’ll see—while you stay quieter than usual, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You tug at the sleeves of your oversized polo, the fabric bunching slightly in your grip as you focus on steadying your breath. The path to the dock feels longer than it actually is, the sounds of the group’s lively chatter fading into the background. You glance at the shimmering blue water ahead and bite the inside of your cheek.

Max lingers just a few steps behind, and you can feel the weight of his presence even without looking. His footsteps are slow and deliberate, as if he’s watching you closely, waiting for any sign of weakness. You try not to dwell on it, though the image of him smirking at your fear lingers in the back of your mind.

As the group finally boards the yacht, you become hyper-aware of the water surrounding you. The boat rocks gently as everyone gets settled, and you grip the railing tightly, trying to hide your discomfort. Max watches you for a moment before walking past you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours.

“Relax,” he mutters under his breath, not even looking at you, but there’s something almost reassuring in his tone. You exhale slowly, forcing yourself to take a seat with the others, letting the warmth of the sun and the sound of conversation distract you from the vast ocean around you.

As the yacht pulls away from the dock, you try to focus on the scenery. The Amalfi Coast is breathtaking—cliffs draped in greenery, colorful villas dotting the shoreline, and the ocean sparkling beneath the golden sunlight. Everyone around you laughs and soaks up the beauty of the day, but your hands remain clenched in your lap, your mind preoccupied with the endless expanse of water.

Despite your nervousness, you find yourself stealing glances at Max. He’s sitting at the back of the yacht, one arm draped casually over the side, sunglasses shielding his eyes as he stares out at the water. He looks so at ease, completely unaffected by the swaying of the boat or the openness of the sea.

The breeze picks up, ruffling your hair, and as you turn your attention back to the group, you feel the yacht slow down. Mila claps her hands, announcing that they’ve anchored near a beautiful cove, perfect for swimming.

Your stomach drops.

Everyone begins shedding layers, excitement buzzing through the group as they prepare to jump into the water. You stay seated, gripping the edge of your chair as they leap overboard, laughter echoing around you.

Max stands, pulling off his shirt and revealing the defined muscles of his back and shoulders. Your eyes linger for a moment longer than you intend. He catches your gaze just before he moves toward the edge of the yacht, that same smirk playing on his lips.

“You coming in?” he asks, his voice low, almost challenging.

You shake your head quickly, offering a small laugh. “No, I think I’ll just… stay here and enjoy the sun.”

Max arches an eyebrow, clearly not buying your excuse, but he doesn’t push it. He gives you one last look, his smirk still in place, before diving effortlessly into the water.

You watch as your friends giggle and enjoy themselves. Mila waves up at you, and you give her a fake salute. She giggles and goes back to swimming. A few minutes later, several members of the group come up to take a break, Max among them. You hate to admit it, but you watch the water droplets roll off him, his cheeks flushed from the sun, and a tight feeling blooms in your core as you force yourself to look away.

The group is lively, and at one point, Jamie, always the instigator, starts playfully shoving friends toward the edge of the boat, teasing and laughing. You stand at the back, watching, hoping to stay out of the chaos.

But in a moment of playful exuberance, Jamie swings his arm and accidentally nudges you forward. Time seems to slow as you lose your balance, and before you can even process what’s happening, you tumble over the side of the yacht. The water crashes around you, and as you hit the surface, the cold rush envelops you, sending panic gripping your chest. Instinctively, you kick your legs, but the water pulls you under, and you flail in confusion. The world above disappears, and the muffled sounds of laughter and splashing fade into silence.

Just as you start to lose hope, a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back to the surface. You gasp for air, blinking the water from your eyes, and find yourself face-to-face with Max. His expression is intense, irritation etched on his features.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps, though his grip is steady and reassuring as he keeps you afloat.

You can’t help but laugh nervously, trying to shake off the fear. “I didn’t want to go in!” you manage to sputter, still clinging to him for dear life.

Max rolls his eyes, the frown returning, though it’s softer this time. “You need to stop thrashing around,” he says, his voice lower now.

As he helps you back onto the yacht, the warmth of the sun hits your damp skin once more. Laughter and cheers erupt from the group as they realize you’re okay, but Max’s presence is the only thing that matters to you in this moment. He doesn’t say anything; his expression remains unreadable as he sets you down.

You catch your breath, water dripping from your hair and running down your arms. “Thanks, Max,” you say, trying to brush off the embarrassment. His usual smirk is absent, and for a split second, you wonder if maybe—just maybe—he cares.

But as soon as you’re on the boat, he steps back, leaving you with the others. “Try not to drown next time,” he says, his tone flat as he pulls his shirt back on, the fabric clinging to his damp skin. It feels more like a reflex than a genuine jab, but you let it slide, laughing it off. “I’ll try my best.”

He turns away, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You shake your head, trying to focus on the laughter around you as Jamie and Mila check to make sure you’re okay. “Really, I’m fine,” you assure them, even as your heart races from the close call.

Just like that, everyone goes back to normal. Lunch is served, and as the yacht heads back to the dock under the fading light, you’re the first one off, eager to touch solid ground once more. You don’t bid anyone goodnight; you’re all too tired for that. You head upstairs to your room, closing the door behind you and shrugging off your damp polo and swimsuit. You hop in the shower, rinsing the salt water off your skin.

After your shower, the soft sound of knocking pulls you from your thoughts. You wrap yourself in a towel and open the door to find Mila standing there, concern etched across her features.

“Hey, just wanted to check on you,” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. Her eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of distress. “That fall looked pretty rough.”

You chuckle softly, waving it off. “I’m fine, really. Just a little embarrassed.”

Mila raises an eyebrow, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You sure it’s not because of Max? I saw the way he pulled you out of the water. It looked pretty… intimate.”

The mention of Max sends a warmth flooding through you, one that you quickly dismiss. “Oh, please. He was just being a jerk, as usual.”

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Or maybe he just likes the attention.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, but a small part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it. “He’s just… Max. You know how he is.”

Mila studies you for a moment, trying to read between the lines. “Well, just think about it. He’s not always the way he acts, you know?”

With that, she leaves, and you find yourself lost in thought, her words echoing in your mind. What if Max really did care?

Later that night, curiosity gets the better of you. You stand in front of Max’s door, your heart racing as you knock softly.

“Come in,” he calls, and you push the door open cautiously. He’s lounging on his bed, scrolling through his phone, and for a moment, you’re struck by how at home he looks.

“Hey,” you say, your voice soft. “I just wanted to thank you… for earlier.”

Max looks up, a flicker of something in his gaze before he masks it with indifference. “You mean for saving your ass?” he quips, his smirk returning. “Don’t mention it.”

You roll your eyes, stepping further into the room. “You know, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

His expression shifts, annoyance flickering across his features. “What do you want me to do? Throw you a parade for not drowning?”

“Maybe just a little acknowledgment would be nice,” you counter, crossing your arms defensively.

He stands, taking a step closer, and the air between you crackles with tension. “I don’t like how sweet you are,” he says, his tone sharp. “It’s annoying.”

“Annoying?” you challenge, feeling a rush of defiance. “Is that really all you’ve got? Because it sounds like you’re just scared of someone actually caring.”

Max’s eyes darken, and for a moment, you think he might snap back. But instead, he steps even closer, invading your personal space. “You think you’re so great, don’t you? All sunshine and rainbows, but it doesn’t work with me.”

Before you can respond, he closes the distance, and suddenly, his lips are on yours—fervent and demanding. His warmth envelops you, slightly chapped against your own, igniting a spark that sends a thrill coursing through your entire body. You’re caught off guard at first, but your instincts take over, and you melt into the kiss, feeling his hands slide around your waist, pulling you closer.

As the kiss deepens, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He presses you against the door, his body firm and solid against yours, radiating heat that makes your pulse quicken. The kiss is intoxicating; every second stretches into eternity—his lips moving against yours in a dance that feels both wild and tender.

When you finally pull away, breathless, your heart races as you search his eyes. “Wait… Max—”

He leans in again, his breath mingling with yours, heavy with longing. “You taste sweet,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

A rush of warmth floods your cheeks at his words. “Is that all you have to say?” you tease, a smile breaking through your fluster.

Max steps back slightly, his hands still resting on your hips as he watches you intently. “What do you want me to say? That I’m an asshole who can’t help but want you?”

The air between you buzzes with unspoken tension—a mix of frustration and attraction. You feel exhilarated yet confused, unable to ignore the thrill of being this close to him, the chemistry crackling like electricity.

“Maybe you could start by admitting you actually care,” you challenge softly, a playful glint in your eyes.

“Maybe,” he replies, a hint of seriousness in his tone before leaning in again, capturing your lips with his. This time, it’s even more intense; his hands grip your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he can’t get enough of you.

But as the moment stretches on, you pull back slightly, breathless. “Max—”

He leans in again, and you find yourself needing to physically stop him, your hands resting on his chest. “Wait, we can’t just—”

“Why not?” he presses, his voice low and needy, his eyes dark with desire. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

You’re both panting, caught in an electric moment. “You’re infuriating, you know that?” you say, a smile creeping onto your lips despite the chaos swirling around you.

Max smirks, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, but you like it.” He crashes his lips against yours once more, and as he pulls away, he runs his tongue along his lower lip, a boyish smirk breaking through. “Sweet like honey,” he teases, prompting you to laugh and tilt your head back. Without thinking, you pull him down by his shirt collar, kissing him again, lost in the moment.

#be4chywrites #f1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #mv33 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x fem!reader #mv1 x you #red bull formula 1 #mv1 imagine

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pomefioredove · 3 days

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hey so can I possibly have a scenario where Azul reveals his octopus form to his s/o and s/o is surprised, but doesn’t mind it. When he keeps being unsure and hides under water, s/o just dives into the water right next to him and kisses him under water? They can’t breathe under water unlike Azul being human.

this is so sweet!! I hope you don't mind, I did a fic instead of headcanons cause it felt right to me

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ "I'd owe you"

summary: in the context of a first kiss type of post: short fic characters: azul additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, established relationship

It's not that Azul is nervous.

Of course not. He's long gotten over the "crush" phase of your relationship. No more butterflies or blushes when he sees you, and for the better.

You're... a part of his life now.

He's not a fool, though.

He knows that each phase of the relationship comes with a different test to pass. And he has passed; the butterflies, the blushing and stammering, the confession, the first date, all with flying colors and his usual bravado.

Now, a month in, he knows the next is imminent.

He is NOT nervous!

He wants to... to be prepared, that's all. But he can't put it off forever.

"Is this strange for you?" he asks, neck-deep in the water.

You, beautiful, effervescent in the moonlight, are sitting on the dock, kicking your legs back and forth. It's high tide, and dark. "No,"

Somehow, in his mind, he thought this would be fine.

"Are you certain? We could go back to school, if you'd like," he says, hopeful you'll change your mind.

"I'm sure," Damn it.

"You haven't let me see you yet, anyway."

Damn it, damn it. Was being in the water in his natural form not enough?

Azul curses himself again. He did agree to this, foolish as it was.

Hesitantly, he lifts one, just one tentacle out of the water. He's trying very hard to keep calm, but he feels like he's being crushed.

You don't react. At all. No teasing, sure, but no reassurance, no smiling, not even that look of awe you so often have. He suddenly feels much colder than the water, and, without thinking, goes to hide.

Again.

The last thing he sees are your eyes, widened in surprise, and then he's underwater.

Azul knows he'll have to come out eventually. He can't just leave you alone on the dock. And he has an exam first thing in the morning, anyway.

But for now, he'd like to wallow. And so he will.

Of course, he should have known better than to think he'd get away with that. In seconds, the surface tension of the water breaks, his calm interrupted by you, you, of course you, suddenly with him.

Azul wants to say something, he wants to hide, but before he can even move, your hands are on his cold cheeks. And then, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, you're kissing him.

The world stops.

For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do.

So, he lets you lead. It's... sort of nice. In a way. Then it sort of feels like you're holding your breath, which is a little- oh, right.

He comes back to his senses, grabs your shoulders, and swims you to the surface.

"Look at you," he sighs. "You're shivering. We need to get you back to school before you catch something."

You say nothing. You're smiling.

Azul sighs again. It's like you hadn't heard a word he said. "Too late for that, then. What are you staring at?"

"You're beautiful,"

His hearts stop. He doesn't respond; if he tries, he knows he'll just make a fool of himself.

Of course. After he was so confident he'd left this awkward phase behind, you manage to give him butterflies all over again.

Finally, he clears his throat. "...Thank you,"

"...But don't think that'll excuse you from drying off and getting warm. I won't have you sick on my behalf. I'd owe you."

Your smile warms with something he recognizes, but can't think of now.

"I think you already do,"

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #azul ashengrotto x reader

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youryanderedaddy · 1 day

Text

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good?

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood.

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to.

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you.

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly.

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough.

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down.

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less.

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

#yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere x you #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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robo-writing · 8 hours

Text

Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail. Logan happy trail—

You’d never stoop so low as to say you have a favorite part of Logan—he’s your boyfriend after all, you love him for all his faults and features. There isn’t a single thing you could ever definitively point out and say “that’s my favorite.”

However, if you had to choose—

“Christ doll, you’re lookin’ at me like a starving dog,” he says with a smug. “What’s got you so worked up?”

You’ve been waiting for him to come back from training all day, sitting on the couch practically counting the seconds. The training session he just came from must have been intense; shirt off, his entire torso glistening with sweat—his happy trail on full display.

You don’t even pretend to be ashamed, blatantly staring at the lovely trail of hair that starts from his belly and moves further down to where the rest is covered by a pair of low-hanging jeans. You’re forcefully pulled from your ogling, hand at your chin, removing your attention from his beautiful patch of hair to his face.

“Y’know, it’s rude to stare,” He whispers. His eyes hold only bad intentions, and you’re happy to oblige, leaning into his touch.

“Kinda wanna do more than just stare,” you whisper back.

His thumb reaches to stroke your cheek. You enjoy the soft touch, hands wandering closer to his torso to stroke the hair that’s been tempting you since he walked through the door, until he catches them in his own with a shake of his head.

“Baby, you know that’s bad manners,” He lets your face go and hooks his thumbs below his belt line, pulling his jeans down even further, exposing the veins that start to run from his v-line.

“If you want to touch, ask nicely.”

The words leave your lips embarrassingly fast. “Can I touch you? Please?”

Your thighs are rubbing together, hands at your side obediently. When he nods his head you reach forward, sliding your hands across his hot skin, nails scratching lightly with each pass, the softest groans escaping Logan with each touch.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Take what you want.”

Spurred on by his words you pull his pants down, boxers strained by the visible outline of his cock. Feeling mischievous, you place a kiss through the fabric, smile widening as you feel it twitch between your plump lips. He hisses in response, fingers curling around your hair.

��Don’t be a tease, or else I’ll leave you here all by yourself,” he says, tugging your head slightly. “We got a deal?”

You couldn’t say no if you tried, so pent up just the sound of his voice gets you riled up. “Promise, just lemme have a taste, I’ll behave.”

He mumbles something under his breath, tugging himself free. Pretty and pink, his cock in full view, still every bit as beautiful no matter how many times you see it. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, tracing every vein with excitement, a smile on your face as he strokes your hair.

“Just needed a taste, is that it?” He groans, rubbing his shiny tip against your lips. “Just needed your boyfriend’s fat cock in your mouth, didn’t you?”

You moan in response, opening your mouth as he feeds you what you’ve been waiting for. Slowly, gently, your tongue massaging the salty skin, inch by inch. Your hand reaches up to scratch at his happy trail and you can feel his cock twitch in response, a gruff laugh vibrating from his chest.

“Oh fuck me, you’re evil,” he sighs. You give him another scratch in response, enjoying the pre-cum that coats your tongue after.

The size of him never fails to make you work for it, heavy against your tongue as your spit runs down your chin. The sounds you make are lewd, sloppy—his fingers push your head further, forcing you to make more. One hand reaches to fondle his balls, the other still resting against his pubes. The feeling leaves Logan breathless, involuntarily thrusting against the wet heat of your mouth.

There’s only a single thread of self-control stopping him from grabbing your head with both hands and fucking your mouth, and you needed it cut yesterday. You force his hands into your hair, stare up at him with your best bedroom eyes, then lap at his balls.

His reaction is heavenly—eyes rolled back, hips stuttering, stomach sucked in as he calls your name.

“Darlin’ you’re gonna kill me,” he huffs, taking your head in his heads. Your lips return to the head of his cock, suckling at his sensitive tip when his fingers tighten in your hair.

You see his eyes darken, your only warning coming in the form of a command. “Keep your mouth open for me doll.”

Your pussy throbs, tongue unraveled as every inch of him slips past your lips and into your throat. Your eyes roll at the feeling, nose touching that oh-so-divine hair that got you here in the first place.

“Gonna fuck your mouth,” he grunts, “Ready for me?”

You moan your approval around his thick length, then gag as he makes good on his word. Every thrust has your hands bracing against his thick thighs, forced to do everything in your power not to choke. Your eyes water, nose full of his musky scent, drool pooling down your chest so much that it leaves a stain against your shirt.

Your brain is filled with nothing but Logan—his taste, his smell, the sound of his moans—it sends your body into overdrive, grinding against the fabric of the couch as he continues to use you for his own pleasure. You’re almost certain you’re leaving a stain against the pillows.

“Real desperate for it huh?” He hisses, using your mouth as a toy. “Gonna cum just like this ain’t you?”

Your lust-addled brain can’t even begin to form a response, but Logan smiles at your fucked-out expression anyway. He doesn’t need you to confirm what he already knows.

When he comes it’s with a shout, leaving you choking against his cock as you struggle to swallow it all. What you can’t runs from the sides of your mouth, his dick coated in a mix of saliva and seed. You greedily gulp down air, a cock-drunk smile plastered against your features as you kiss at his softening cock, then bury your face and nuzzle again his happy trail, tasting the sweat that lingers. The sticky feeling between your legs makes you think at some point you came, pussy still throbbing with that familiar aftershock.

You look like hell, but damn it if you aren’t satisfied—hair a mess, spit and cum staining your skin, tears running down your cheeks—Logan thinks you’re beautiful like this.

“I know vacuums that got less suction than you, fucking hell,” Logan says, still out of breath from what was most certainly a mind-blowing orgasm. He leans down to kiss at your cum-stained lips, messy and unoriented. “Hope you’re ready for me to return the favor princess, because we ain’t finished.”

#gonna keep repeating it until the message gets through.#robo writes #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #james logan howlett #this was another case of me rambling and then accidentally writing a one shot #woopsie

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fastandcarlos · 3 days

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Breakfast Surprise : ̗̀➛ Sebastian Vettel

summary: even after retirement, sebastian is as busy as ever, so you're there to give him a treat to remind him to take care of himself

It was frantic to say the least as Sebastian rushed around the house, throwing all the things he needed into his bag. You’d never known it in all your years together, but as Sebastian missed his alarm, he was left in a panic trying to make sure he got to the paddock on time.

You were little help as Sebastian tried to pack his bag, deciding to leave the room and give him some space. Instead, you headed into the kitchen of the apartment that you were renting, deciding to look through the cupboards and see what you could find.

It didn’t take long before you had a plan in mind, knowing exactly what you wanted to do. Sebastian was completely unaware of what you were doing as you got busy, leaving him to go through his usual steps, just at a much quicker pace than usual.

In amongst the panic, the one thing you knew Sebastian wouldn’t think about was breakfast, the one thing you knew his team would be keen for him to remember though.

Every so often you could hear him groan as he forgot something, trying his best to get sorted as quickly as possible. As he was done, he walked out of the bedroom, humming in surprise as he walked through to be greeted by the smell of something delicious.

Intrigue got the better of Sebastian as he walked through into the kitchen to see you stood by the oven busying yourself. Sebastian crept over in your direction, placing his hands on your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to see what you were doing.

“Is this breakfast?”

“No, it’s tea for tonight,” you sarcastically responded, watching as Sebastian’s eyes rolled. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before taking a seat on one of the stools. “You know what they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

An appreciative smile appeared on Sebastian’s face as he allowed himself to relax for the first time that day. You placed a plate in front of him as you began to dish up the pancakes that you had made, pancakes you were sure even Carlos would be proud of.

Sebastian couldn’t believe his eyes as he took in what you had done for him, studying you closely as you carefully placed some pancakes on his plate. There were a few items for toppings lying around that you placed on the table, adding to the sweetness for you both.

“This is beautiful,” Sebastian smiled as he picked up his knife and fork, cutting off a piece and popping it into his mouth. “You know I think my trainer would have something to say if he knew that I was eating pancakes for breakfast today.”

“It’s a good job you don’t race anymore then,” you teased.

Even though he wasn’t racing, Sebastian still had his duties to fulfil at the paddock. It was something you had done for many years, trying your best to make life as easy as possible for Sebastian, doing little things when you could to help him out.

“You still need to eat, and I know exactly what you’re like,” you laughed, taking a seat next to him. “If you’re running late the first thing you always forget is breakfast, but you need to make sure that you’re eating properly still.”

“You’re the best,” Sebastian sweetly smiled, nudging himself against your side. “It means a lot to me how amazing of a job you do of taking care of me.”

You never failed to take Sebastian by surprise with your kind gestures and concern. He was all prepared to rush out of the door with nothing, but once again you were there to step in and make sure that he actually took care of himself.

“It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with you in the mornings these days,” you whispered, hearing several hums of delight beside you as Sebastian kept eating. “I remember the days that I got about five minutes with you if I was lucky.”

“This is why I retired, for you, for our family,” Sebastian reminded you, leaning over and kissing against your cheek. “These are the moments that I felt like I missed out on for so many years, but now I get to savour them.”

Your smile was wide as Sebastian grinned brightly across at you too. “It’s only breakfast, with my cooking, I’d hardly say it’s something special anyway.”

It wasn’t much to you, but it was everything to Sebastian. All the little things added up to create those bigger moments, it was those little things that reminded him every single day just how lucky he was to have someone as caring as you in his life.

“It’s amazing,” Sebastian assured you, tucking in once again.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you finished off, murmurs of conversation appearing every so often. Sebastian especially making sure he ate every last crumb, making the most of it. Despite being in a rush, he still wanted to make the most of such a good breakfast, even finding the time to eat the leftovers that you had on your plate too.

“Finished?” You smiled as you picked up your plate, reaching across to pick up Sebastian’s too, only for him to keep it in his hands. Your eyebrows knitted together as he chuckled, standing up with his plate in his own hands instead.

Before you could protest Sebastian took your plate out of your hands too and walked over to the sink. A sigh came from you as you realised what it was that he was doing, noticing the smug smile that was on his face too as he got away with it.

You turned your attentions to the table, picking up the other items and putting them back where they were, settling beside Sebastian once you were finished.

“You cooked, the least I could do was wash up,” he smirked, poking the tip of your nose with his finger, leaving plenty of bubbles there to annoy you.

Your eyes rolled as you swatted him away. “You need to get to the paddock before you get told off, leave all of that and I’ll sort it out.”

“I’ve got time,” Sebastian insisted, refusing to let you budge him out the way. “It’s the least that I can do anyway considering what you’ve just done for me. You go and relax for a bit, get yourself sorted for the day ahead.”

Your hands brushed through Sebastian’s hair as he encouraged you to leave things for him to sort out, wanting you to spend a bit of time for yourself too.

“Go away,” Sebastian laughed as you stayed glued to his side, moving your hands down to rest against his hips. “I know you’re worrying about me but I’m alright, and I’ll be on time. Take some time and get yourself ready, you’ve got to live up to that reputation of being the hottest partner in the paddock too.”

A chuckle quickly came from you, “am I allowed to still claim that title considering the fact that you’ve retired now?”

“In my eyes, no one will even come close to taking that from you.”

“You’re so smooth Vettel.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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hiddenzev · 2 days

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Second Confession: Part 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel realises his feelings after seeing reader and Emile spending more time with each other.

Chapter Warnings - Angst, One-sided love, Unrequited Love, Idiots in Love, (let me know if i missed anything)

WC: 7.2K

series masterlist, AO3

A/N: Y'all I don't even know how I'm writing longer and longer as each chapter goes by. Thank you for the comments and likes, i'm living for it. Love yall! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. It's not as angsty as what some of you hope for tho.

You walk into the cafeteria the next morning to see Emile sitting with the group for breakfast. What the hell? It must be Tommy’s doing for sure. This man interferes too much and sometimes you just want to strangle him. You fill your tray up with the menu of the day before walking slowly to the table, cursing under your breath.

Tommy notices you coming and calls out your name. You put on a fake smile, intensely staring at Tommy for pulling Emile in for breakfast with the group. He raises his eyebrows with a big smile, communicating with you silently to play it cool. You kisses your teeth to restrain yourself from calling him out. As a matter of fact, you almost slap his head when you passed right by him before rounding the table to take a seat.

You were too locked in on Tommy that you didn’t realise that you took a seat right next to Joel. Until you were seated down, that’s when you realise Ellie isn’t by your side. She had swapped her seats with Joel. Before this, you were panicking on not knowing what to say to Emile but now you were nervous, sitting almost thigh to thigh with Joel.

“Good Morning.” you squeezed that out with a strained smile after taking a seat.

You receive a couple of replies and some nods. Emile who sits right opposite you couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“Good Morning.” Emile said looking at you, smiling with anticipation behind his eyes.

You give him a polite smile in return before digging in your food. You are only a few bites in and Emile speaks up again.

“How are you? I didn’t see you in the library for awhile,” he asks with a worried look on his face.

“I’m good. I just needed time to myself and get it together again. That’s all,” you explain.

“Oh. Did something happened?”

“Umm, no, nothing for you to worry about. I’m okay,”

“Well, if you say so. I’m glad you’re okay,”

“Thank you.”

You move your hand to pick up your fork to eat again when he opens his mouth to talk, causing you to halt your movements. You put down your fork feeling a little annoyed because you’re hungry and you want to eat. Don’t let your girl get hangry.

“I was just missing seeing that pretty face of yours in the library.” he looks down bashfully, stuffing his face with his food.

You don’t know how to react. Your mouth keeps opening and closing slightly, like a fish, not knowing what to say. You glance to Tommy, who’s sitting beside Emile, for help but this dude is just side eyeing you. Everyone one else was just silently wanting to hear what you would say.

“Oh, t-thanks. It’s nice of you to say that,” you stutters, feeling shy about the compliment.

“I’m not just saying that. You really are beautiful,” he blushes looking at you to say that.

“Thank you.” you said in a small voice, nodding your head awkwardly and breaks the eye contact to look at the table.

You are fiddling with your food, lost in thoughts, when you feel Joel’s elbow grazing yours. That makes you feel the shivers running through your body. How is it when Emile who is flirting with you, did not make you feel anything but when Joel’s elbow are grazing yours, it makes you feel hot? That’s it. You need to lie down and roll on some grass.

He quickly finishes his food and gets up to leave without saying anything. Tommy watches his brother scurrying off until he is out of sight. Lots of thoughts running through his head. You don’t even want to look at Joel leaving so you just keep on eating and talking with Emile.

Since that breakfast, Emile has been joining the group for breakfast and some of the dinners. You have been friendly with him even though you’re not usually open to people but he does seem sincere from what you learn about him from his time here. You do want to befriend him, taking this chance to change your cooped up self and socialise.

He makes an effort to do things for you and also with you. You appreciate it a lot but you kind of feel bad thinking you’re leading him on. You just want to be friends first and not jump into anything rashly.

You open the door and see Emile holding some flowers with a big smile on his face. His face is slightly red, burning up from the shyness.

“Hey, good morning! I got you these pretty little things along the fences out back,” he holds out a bunch of wildflowers that he picked towards you, “they remind me of you.”

You take it from him and brings it close to your face to smell it. It feels wonderful to be given flowers and you don’t even remember the last time someone gave you one.

“Awww, thank you! This is so sweet.” You thank him with an awe look on your face before turning around to put the flowers in an old vase that you found.

Emile is still standing outside, looking inside at what you are doing and occasionally touching the back of his hair nervously. You quickly get your bag and locks the door to not keep him waiting. Emile is walking you to the ranch this morning. He offers to accompany you a few days ago after hearing that you will be on patrol duty that day. The eagerness in his striking blue eyes made you feel bad to turn him down. So here he is walking out with you.

“Thank you for the flowers, Emile. You don’t have to do that.” You thank him again.

He’s been giving you flowers after his solo walks within the town. He’s not able to go outside because he’s lacking the skills on those areas and that is why he’s with the books. He’s a sweet guy with a soft heart that it makes you wonder how did he even survive for this long.

You remember vaguely that he came to Jackson with a small group of people consisting of mostly strong men and only a couple of women and small children. He’s always with the rowdy bunch of men in that group and he stands out like a sore thumb. He’s so out of place there but you don’t really question it because they probably saved him from the horrors that happened outside.

“You’re welcome. I’ve always thought that you’re a cool person so I really want to give those flowers to you. I thought you would love it, y’know,”

“I love it but I feel like I owe you something for all the flowers you have given me,”

“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.” He gestures that it’s fine.

You both make your way to the ranch with nonstop talking. You find that it’s easy to talk with Emile. He don’t just cut you off and dismisses what you said. He don’t ignore you and tells you to keep your mouth shut. He don’t give you a dirty look for rambling on and on about the things you are passionate about. Unlike someone.

Meanwhile, back in Joel’s house, he sees everything that’s happening. Ever since Emile was brought up into the conversation, he’s been feeling out of sorts. He sees the way Emile looks at you with so much adoration. He sees Emile being nervous when you’re not looking. He sees Emile making the effort to be close to you.

He knows Emile is one of the good guys in Jackson. He should be glad that at least Emile is treating you well as you deserves it. Joel’s not a good person. He has done a lot of bad things that he thinks are unforgivable. You should not be with him because you could do so much better than his stoic and grumpy ass. He doesn’t know how to break his shell and communicate his feelings better.

You’re tough, resilient, stand on your business type of woman but you’re also stubborn, impatient at times and be lost in your thoughts whenever you can. At first, he thinks you’re adorable actually but he doesn’t want to admit it. He keeps his distance away from you to not get too soft on his feelings. You’re charming in your own way and Joel finds you irresistible after realising your true feelings and the effort that you put in for him.

Yes, he had suspected that you have feelings for him. Like Tommy said, only a fool wouldn’t see it but he ignored it. He has his own demons that he struggles with and he doesn’t want to entertain something that may not be worth risking his heart for. He’s tired of losing the people that he loves and cares about so he keeps his circle small.

Seeing you smiling at Emile when he’s giving you the flowers, he can’t help but feel his heart drops to his stomach. You look so contented and it hurts that he’s the reason of your tears not too long ago. He feels stupid now that when someone else is trying to win your heart, that’s when he gets the urge to do something about it.

He sighs heavily and takes a moment before stepping out of his house. He has to endure seeing you and Emile most of the time now and he’s going to hate seeing how both of you get on so well with each other.

Emile has been walking you to and fro from patrols for two weeks now. It’s lovely that he never fails to show up and keeps you company. Even though there are times when you want to be alone, you don’t mind it because it’s exhilarating seeing Joel’s reaction to seeing Emile with you.

The patrols with Joel were as per usual except you caught him multiple times staring at you. He would also try to make small talks, asking you a couple of questions before completely keeping his silence. You would answer shortly with a slight animosity, giving back the energy that he has given you before. Do you still have feelings for him? Yeah. Do you feel bad for him? No….okay, maybe a little bit but who cares. You’re going to enjoy it for awhile.

You’re sitting on one of your chairs in your back porch, sipping on your hot tea. You have the book that you are currently reading closed on the table beside you. You’ve been catching up on your reading now after that whole confession fiasco with Joel. The library has been one of the places you visited to let your mind be lost in fiction instead of your miserable reality. In addition to that, Emile is there as well to keep the atmosphere lighthearted by checking up on you time to time.

However, this peace did not last long. Strangely, Joel has been coming to the library more often. You did not find it weird at first since you know he do read sometimes. Most of the time you would see him come in straight inside without saying anything to Emile at the front desk. Then, he would take his time to browse the books while glancing around as if to find something that is on his mind.

You observe him from your seat in the corner that is hidden from plain sight due to the shelves. Every time after he sees you, he would go to find a seat with any book that he is holding in his hands without any thoughts. He sits on a table further away facing you and you catch that his ears go red whenever you peek a glance at him. You keep that observation in the back of your mind, not knowing what to think of it.

You do shy away from the eye contact at the start. Distracted by his appearances in the library that now, you subconsciously anticipate him to visit the library when you do. You usually don’t want to think much about it so you won’t get your hopes up again stupidly but you do have your fair share of strange suspicions from him. Not just from the library, you see him lingering around at the places you would bump into him, like the bar, town hall, barn, etc. Whenever you are with Emile and you catch him looking, his face is always scowling while looking away.

You get out of your thoughts of Joel acting strange after you hear your name being called by Ellie from the front of your house. You take your tea and book inside before hurrying to the front door. You open the door to see her standing with a tight smile, holding something in her hands.

“What’s up?” You ask her with a confused look on your face, not expecting to see her.

“Thought you might want some company. I brought dinner,” she holds up the bag of food to tempt you.

“Sure, come in.” You invite her in the house.

Ellie goes straight to the kitchen to put down the food. Both of you help each other to set up the table to eat. After a couple of quick movements, you and Ellie are finally seated down facing each other.

“It’s been awhile since we hang out just the two of us,” she takes a little bite out of her vegetables.

“Yeah, I guess there’s been a lot of things going on.” You reply to her while picking at your food a little bit.

Ellie shares everything that has been happening with her. She talks about school and her friend, Dina, mostly. You have always thought that Dina is more than just a friend to Ellie from the way she talks about her. It’s cute but you’re going to let Ellie realise her feelings herself and talk to you about it at her own pace.

You listen to everything that she says and answers any questions that she has about the things she’s curious about. Eventually, she talks about Joel which is bound to happen anyway because she lives with that guy.

“Joel has been a little weird, man” she shares.

“How?” You question her, not giving that information that you find him acting strange too.

“I don’t know. He seems restless, moving around the house trying to find something to fix or whatever. It’s making me stressed.” She grumbles while shoving food in her mouth.

You just nod your head to her complaining.

“I’ve noticed that he plays the guitar a lot more now at the back porch, sometimes late into the night.”

Your mind goes to the guitar pick that you gave him. You wonder whether he still has it.

“Oh! He’s finishing the chess set soon. I think he said that he got a couple of pieces left before he’s done with it. I can’t wait to learn and play it.” She smiles at you excitedly.

“That’s good to hear. I bet you would be coop up in the house pestering him to play with you.” You grin at her after seeing her contagious smile. She giggles imagining herself doing that.

“I’ve seen the pieces that he’s done but there was one that stood out to me,” she smirks at you.

“What?” You genuinely ask her while picking up your glass to drink.

“It’s the only one with a lighter shade and has initials at the bottom of it unlike the rest.” She looks at you knowingly.

You almost spits out your drink but you keep it in causing you to cough painfully. Ellie looks at you concerned.

“You good?”

You nod while clearing your throat a little bit. She stares at you for a moment before speaking up.

“I’ve seen the initials. It’s yours isn't it?” She asks softly.

You pick at your food and finish the last bit on your plate. You look at her and sighs heavily before nodding your head defeatedly.

“Was that why you ask that question during the Never Have I Ever game?”

“Yeah,” her mouth curls at the sides.

“You little shit,” you scoffs remembering that game night.

“Did you give him that night when you confessed?” This time she asks with a serious tone.

“I didn’t tell you guys about that but yeah, together with a guitar pick and a letter.” You confess to her about it shyly.

“That’s sweet,” she gives you a reassuring smile. You smile at her before it slips thinking about that night’s harsh rejection by Joel.

“I thought he would throw it away,” you said in a somber voice, “didn't know he still has it.” You voice trails off, distracted by your thoughts of your chess piece among his.

“You know,-“ she pauses for a moment, hesitant to say the thing that is on her mind, “there are times I’ve seen him holding that piece and just stare at it.” Ellie observes you while trying to drink nonchalantly but her clumsiness overpowers it.

‘’What are you trying to say?” Your eyes narrows towards her.

“Maybe he’s been thinking of you,” she shrugs her shoulders, raising her eyebrows with a little curl at one side of her mouth that you do not miss.

“Maybe he’s regretting what he did.” Ellie stands up to clear up the plates since the both of you are done with dinner.

You help out as well, wiping the table and countertop. The thoughts of what Ellie said bothers you while you are cleaning. After you are done, you lean your hip on the countertop and turns to Ellie who is still washing the dishes.

“You really think that he have feelings for me and is regretting his actions?” You ask for her opinion, staring at her side profile.

“Yeah and he’s probably feeling shitty about it. We all know he sucks at talking about his own feelings.” She wipes her hands on a towel before turning her body to you. “Hopefully he got the balls to apologise and make up to you soon.” She brushes past you to get a glass of water and heads to the living room.

You sit down on the sofa beside her, sighing heavily while you rest your head back on the sofa. You close your eyes trying to not let this soften your heart more for Joel. You are already weak for the man and you don’t want to easily forgive and forget what happened.

“Got nothing to tell me about Emile?” She slurps on her drink and eyes you suspiciously, smirking.

“What about him?” You open your eyes, frowning slightly.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together. I’m just wondering how you feel about him now.” She turns to face you, folding her legs underneath her to listen to what you have to say.

You got no choice but to sit up straight seeing the excitement in her eyes. The smile that you try to hide slowly appears on your face. The way she wriggles her eyebrows up and down earns a scoff from you. You shake your head slowly at her innocence, reminding you of when you and your friends were talking about boys back in the days.

“He’s a nice guy. Sweet and polite. Comfortable to talk to, y’know.” You give her a forced smile trying to convince her. Nodding your head a couple times as if to tell yourself as well that there was nothing else to say.

“But?” She probes you for an answer with one raised eyebrow, suspecting there is more to the story.

“Nothing. That’s all.”

“Oh come on! Don’t lie to me,” she slaps her hands on her thighs and look in your eyes, not backing down.

“There’s nothing!” You raise your hands, palms facing up. “That’s what I’m saying.” Eyes wide, telling her the truth.

She looks at you with eyebrows pinched, confused look on her face. You take a moment to take a deep breath.

“I don’t feel anything more than a friend with him. Seriously. He reminds me of a close friend of mine in college. I miss that goofy ass fucker so much.” You laugh softly, thinking about your dear friend, Kai, that had been there for you through the rough patch of your young adult life.

You don’t know what happened to him after the outbreak. The last you heard from him was that he’s going overseas to start his own business abroad. Whenever you are down, you can hear him in your head telling you to keep your head up.

Ellie watches you reminiscing about your friend and you can see that her smile slowly fades as if she is thinking about one of her friends too. You had no intention to bring the mood down by thinking about the past so you keep on talking.

“Yeah. Also, he’s way too sweet for me. I’ve never seen that man pick up a gun before, not even a knife. Never gotten into a fight since he came here,”

“Oh wow. Even I almost got into a fight the first day here.” She looks away with an embarrassed smile.

“Of course you would.” Both of you laugh at the memory of Ellie getting agitated on her first day in Jackson.

“He’s lovely but the guys he hangs around with are assholes,” you can’t help but throw a disgusted look on your face thinking about Emile’s group of friends.

“I’ve noticed.” Ellie rolls her eyes.

“It seems like he owes them his life and can’t get himself out of their circle. I’m not surprised because he do seems like an angel, way too kind to other people.” You solemnly say thinking about how they treat Emile like a pushover sometimes.

You turn around to lean your back against the sofa again. Ellie stays put and as she looks around the house, she could see the window facing their house and catches Joel returning from his dinner at the cafeteria.

“Total opposite than that old fucker.” Her eyes are still fixed on Joel.

Your head snaps abruptly to her after hearing that and you turn your body completely to see who she is looking at even though you lowkey (pardon my gen z language lmao) have a clue who she is talking about. The view of Joel’s broad back can be seen heading to his front door with his head down. You wonder what’s on his mind. You absentmindedly stares at the house even when Joel is long gone from your sight.

“You still like him, do you?” You look at her, seeing a playful smirk on her face as she looks at you to prove her point wrong.

You stands up to face her, tilting your head to the door. “I think it’s time for me to get ready for bed.”

She do not make any moves except making an exaggerated face at you, rejecting your answer to her question. You laugh at her funny face, finding it really hilarious.

“Get your ass up and go,” you laughter eventually dies down. You clap your hands once, tilting your head again to the door, wanting her to leave.

She grumbles as she gets up and gathers her stuff. Ellie can’t help herself from teasing you, “I know you still like him.” She says in a singsong manner.

Only thing you could do is just to shake your head slowly with a lopsided smile on your face. You follow her to the door before she faces you again.

“I’m going to kick his ass until he get his shit together,” she determinedly says with a serious look on her face.

“If you say so, Ellie, I can’t stop you.” You raises your hands, palms by the side of your face in a surrendering way.

You open the door for her to walk out and both of you bid goodnight to each other.

The following night, Joel is found seated in his usual spot in Tipsy Bison. He is already a couple of drinks in than his usual intake in Jackson. There is a lot going on in his head and he wants to shut it out using alcohol. Tommy and Maria is seen walking towards Joel after spotting him as soon as he steps into the bar. Joel doesn’t know how but Tommy always coincidentally find him when there is something bothering him. It’s annoying but he’s grateful that his brother is always there for him.

“Are you drunk already?” Tommy eyes Joel closely. He lets Maria sit inside the booth first before sitting down next to her, opposite of Joel.

“No,” Joel grumbles before muttering again in a small voice, “just a little bit tipsy.”

“Something on your mind?” Tommy asks concernedly.

Joel didn’t answer, looking down at his glass, swirling the drink around in one hand. Maria who senses that she should let them talk privately, stands up and let Tommy know she’s getting drinks for the both of them.

When Maria walks away, Tommy asks Joel again, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Joel purses his lips, staring at his little brother.

Tommy definitely knows that Joel is lying but he lets it slide. He knows Joel will come around and tell him the truth eventually. They both wait until Maria comes back with the drinks. As usual, the three of them are talking about the developments of Jackson and how to implement more improvements on certain areas when Joel sees you and Emile walking into the bar. He stops listening to what Tommy is saying immediately, his head is miles away from the conversation in just a snap of a finger.

Emile leads the way to a table for two that is empty, quite near the area Tommy, Maria and Joel are sitting. You are so into the conversation with Emile that you do not even stop talking as you sit down. Your seat is facing Joel but you still hasn’t notice him yet. You are talking about your favourite movies, debating with Emile, which 90s romcom is the best.

(Spoiler alert! If you haven’t watch ’10 things I Hate About You’ and ‘You’ve Got Mail”, I’m sorry)

“Nothing can top ’10 Things I Hate About You’ come on. Patrick, the so-called ‘bad & dangerous’ boy, got paid to take Kat, which is a girl boss by the way, on a date.” You try to convince Emile.

“Then he falls for her, she falls harder and then she got hurt thinking it was all fake when it’s not, then he bought her the guitar that she ever wanted and they kissed! Voila!” You explain the storyline animatedly, moving your hands around wildly.

“But have you seen ‘You’ve Got Mail’?” Emile shoots you an even more thrilled look.

“Of course,” you reply in a disbelieving look.

“The perfect enemies to lovers. The. Best.” Emile emphasises on the the last two words.

“You know what’s underrated?”

“What?”

“French Kiss.” You state it with a straight face.

“Wh-what?” Emile asks with widened eyes, eyebrows shoot up as high as it can go.

You hear someone coughing badly nearby but you don’t check who it is. It is actually Joel that is coughing. He was eavesdropping the entire time, watching you talk with so much passion about the movie. He obviously does not watch romcoms unless Sarah wants to. He heard about the movie you’re talking about before but did not have a chance to watch it.

Tommy and Maria were caught up in their own conversations that they didn’t notice you since you are not in their view or recognise your voice. Joel did not expect you to say French Kiss which caused him to choke on his drink. He covered his mouth as he coughs.

“Are you okay?” Tommy turns back to Joel hearing him coughing.

“Yeah.” Joel says in a strained voice, cleaning up where he had made a mess.

Are you flirting with Emile? Is that a hint that you want to kiss Emile? All kinds of thoughts are racing through his mind. He was not able to hear your explanation for that because he was coughing and was taken aback to process anything.

“French Kiss. The one with Meg Ryan in it as well.” you say, oblivious to what you had accidentally implied.

“Oh. The movie.” You find that Emile replies in a weird tone and you notice that his face is turning red. You do not say anything about it and continue to talk.

“Yeah. Have you seen it?”

“Unfortunately, no.” A disappointing smile on Emile’s face.

“Aw man, it’s kinda silly but I like that movie. Wish you could watch it.” Both of you finally comes back to reality knowing that there is zero chance that you could watch it again.

You hear your name being called and you look towards where the sound came from. Tommy is waving his arms to catch your attention but that wasn't what caught your eye. It is the man that is staring at you with a softness in his eyes that you have never seen in him before. You don't break eye contact with him until Tommy invites you to join them.

“You go first, I’ll get us something to drink.” Emile suggests and nods his head towards them. His hand rest on your shoulder for a moment to indicate that he will be back soon.

You thank Emile before making your way to them. As you come closer, Joel slides in more into the booth to give you some space to sit. It will be awkward for you to reject his gesture so you suck it up and sits beside him, facing Tommy directly.

“I didn’t see you just now, did y’all just came in?” Tommy asks you.

“Yeah, a couple minutes ago.” You nod your head profusely, your eyes darting from Tommy to Maria continuously. “What were you guys talking about?” You question, not knowing what else to talk about.

Maria explain to you that they were discussing about Jackson and how to progress it into a better community. You try to focus on what she is saying but the presence beside you cannot be ignored and you can’t seem to be able to turn your head to look at him.

Emile approaches and put down the drinks towards your side of the table. He is awkwardly standing trying to figure out where to sit. You move in towards Joel, your thighs and arms in contact with his and the three of you squeeze into one side of the booth. You lean forward to sip on your drink with your elbows on the table, trying not to touch Joel’s arms.

Tommy and Maria are amused by what’s happening, quietly observing you. You raises your eyebrows at the couple asking them to help you from this awkwardness. They glance at each other while trying not to smile.

“So I’ve seen the both of you together a lot these days.” Tommy gestures to you and Emile to address the situation.

“Yeah, we’ve been hanging out.” You reply shortly to Tommy in a casual tone. “Why?”

“I’m just glad that you look happier and relaxed,” Tommy genuinely smiles at you.

“Well, it’s all thanks to Emile,” you look to Emile beaming at him, “you’ve been a great friend to me.”

“You too. I’m always here if you need me.” Emile look you in the eyes with a reassuring smile.

Joel clears his throat and taps his fingers on the table restlessly. Your face fell hearing that noise and turns back towards the table with your jaws clenched.

“You both good to go on a supply run next week? Just the two of you, like patrols.” Maria chimes in, asking you and Joel specifically.

You look over your shoulder at Joel and see that he’s already looking at you to gauge your reaction. His hand is scratching his beard back and forth mindlessly. He wants to know if you’re okay with it first before agreeing.

“I’m good,” you answer as you lean back against the booth which causes you to hunch your shoulders slightly due to the small space you have in between the men.

Maria looks at Joel for his reply and Joel gives her a sharp nod agreeing with you.

“It’s going to be further away than the previous times. Probably gonna be two days trip so get ready for that. I’ll tell you guys the details when it’s nearer to that day.” Maria explains without breaking any eye contact on either one of you.

The conversation continues between Maria and Emile as they talk about his duties and whether or not he has enough help in the library. As it goes on, you let the information of the supply run process in your head. It’s going to be a two days trip to look for more supplies with Joel. The longest time you’ve been with Joel alone is your usual patrols with him which last half a day only. How are you going to survive this trip? It’s funny that you’re more worried about Joel than being out there for 2 days.

Joel must have been worrying about the same thing because you can see him fidgeting with his hands that are resting on his thighs. His hands stop moving and your eyes slowly move up to his face. You freeze, not able to look anywhere else as he gazes into your eyes. To you, it seems like there is a lot that he’s saying behind those eyes. It isn’t threatening, It isn’t menacing. It isn’t judging you. He appears to look in your eyes as if to memorise the details of it. You can almost hear your heartbeat growing faster and faster.

Oblivious to you both, Tommy is watching everything that is happening. He has been secretly hoping for Joel to finally realise his feelings for you and make a move. Although it’s kind of shitty of him to use Emile but whatever it takes for that big brother of his to do something about it.

“Hey Emile, wanna join us for pool?” One of Emile’s friends, Jack, comes by the table to invite him to a game of pool.

Emile looks behind over Jack to see his group of friends at the pool table waiting for him.

“You can bring your mummy along if you want.” Jack points at you with a creepy smirk. He’s eyeing you up and down making you feel disgusted and angry.

“Uh-“ Emile tries to say something but you interrupt him.

“I’m not his mummy,” you snap at him with a deep frown on your face.

“Yeah right,” he scoffs, “you’ve been keeping him to yourself for weeks, who knows what you’re doing with him.”

You’re so close to getting up and punching the asshole in the face when Joel slams the table with his fist, causing everyone to flinch. You do not have to turn around to know how angry Joel is. You can see from Jack’s face that he’s now realising that there’s a big bad wolf waiting to pounce on him from beside you. Tommy’s body already facing Jack, ready to grab him if he says anything else.

“Fuck off before I break your fucking jaw.” Joel barks at him.

Jack scurries away, leaving the table in silence. You can hear Joel’s shallow breath from the anger.

“I’m sorry,” Emile mutters in a weak voice, his eyes facing downwards.

“You’re gonna keep your friend in check or what?” Joel growls at Emile.

You quickly turn your head around to face Joel angrily. Joel is not breaking his gaze from Emile. His eyebrows are pressed together, jaws clenched. Oh he is as furious as you.

“Or are you running your mouth to them as well that I need to straighten you out too?!” He hiss at him, leaning his body towards Emile to get his point across while you are caught in the middle. He’s almost caging you and there is no space left for you to lean back so you put your hands firmly on Joel’s shoulders, stopping him from pushing.

“Joel!” You look at him with a stern look causing him to look at you. Your hands are still on his strong and broad shoulders, which you wish you are touching them at a different circumstances.

“Enough.” You ordered.

Your hands slowly fall from his shoulders reluctantly. He sighs, looking away from you and moves back a little to give you space. You turn to face Emile again.

“You’re gonna go to them?” You asks him in a low voice, feeling sympathetic seeing him shaking slightly.

“I have to. I’m sorry for what he said,” He whispers, looking at you sadly.

“It’s not your fault. Let me know if anything happens, okay?” You reassure Emile, placing your hand on his arm.

He nods at you before getting up to face the rest, “I’m sorry, guys, for what happened.” HIs hands interlocked with each other as he looks at everyone on the table with a apologetic look on his face.

Tommy and Maria gives him a small nod in reply. Joel doesn’t even look at Emile, only gripping his glass hard. Emile walks off hesitantly towards his friends.

You face Joel, not wanting to let what he said to Emile slides.

“What was that?” You blurt out at him

“What?” He looks at you annoyed.

“Why did you lashed out on Emile?”

“That asshole is his friend. He should know better to keep his friend’s mouth shut.”

“It’s not his fault that his friend is an asshole.”

“So you’re gonna defend that boyfriend of yours now?”

You roll your eyes and sighs heavily. You move out of the booth, pointing at Joel and to yourself.

“You. Me. Outside. Now.” You stare down at Joel.

Joel looks up at you, seeing you ordering him around for the first time.

“I’m serious.” Not backing down even though he’s giving you his meanest face.

“Sorry guys, I’ll see y’all around. G’night.” You say to Tommy and Maria with tight lips. You look at Joel again and indicate with your head that you will wait for him outside.

The chilly air greets you as you step out of the bar. You can tell that the snow is going to come soon. You head to the bench by a tree right beside the bar to wait. You didn’t have to wait long before you see Joel heading towards you. He stops a couple steps away from you, rubbing his hands together, feeling the coldness of the night.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You get to the point right away. You want to clear every single speck of air between the two of you.

“Excuse me?” Joel frowns, not believing what he just heard.

“Did you not hear what I just said? I said,” you take a step closer to him, “what the fuck is wrong with you?” you enunciated every word clearly to him, almost shouting because you are so angry and confused with him.

“You’re asking what is wrong with me?” He points at himself, one brow lifted.

You nod your head, eyes wide looking at him.

“No, what is wrong with you? You’re the one that keeps hanging around with that boyfriend of yours who cannot even stand up for himself.” he argues.

“He’s not my boyfriend! Also, you don’t even talk to him to know that he’s struggling to put up with that bunch of assholes.” you move your arms wildly, arguing with him.

“Oh give me a break,” he crosses his arms and lean his weight on one side, “I see him coming over to your house all the time.”

You look at him weirdly, “So?”

“So?” He sneers.

You gestures at him to continue his argument. He looks away for a moment, closing his eyes as if to gather his thoughts and looks at you again with a determined look on his face.

“So what Joel?”

“So you have feelings for him?” he mutters with a strained voice, feeling embarrassed with what he just asked.

“Me and Emile are just friends. Just like me and Tommy.” you don’t even know why you are explaining this to him.

“I see him bringing you flowers all the time,”

“And?”

“And I see how you look at him. Like how you look at me before everything that happened.”

You let out a sigh, looking down at your feet, tired of his hot and cold attitude.

“Joel, you rejected me like almost two months ago, literally saying I was stupid to have a crush on you in the apocalypse and that you don’t give a fuck about me.” You reiterate what he said to you.

“And now you’re here being jealous just because some other man wants me now? I don’t understand what you want from me, Joel. So please kindly explain yourself.”

He uncrosses his arms and take a step closer to you. He looks down at his boots, pursing his lips, gathering the courage to speak about his true feelings.

“I’m sorry.” His gaze moves to your face, eyebrows saddled.

Oh hell no. You have to keep it together to not fall for his big brown puppy eyes. This is the first time you can see that he’s being regretful for his actions.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I was being insensitive to you and there is no excuse for that. You’ve always tried to be nice to me but I was being a dick and kept pushing you away. And now I see him around you all the time and it hurts,” he closes the distance between the both of you, “it hurts to see that I’m not the one making you smile, I’m not the one making you laugh and I’m not the one holding you.” you look up at him, staring at his pleading eyes.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make it all up to you,” he whispers, you can feel his soft breath on your face. His fingers grazing yours and he timidly takes your pinky finger in his index finger and his thumb.

"Please forgive me." he begs you.

Your eyes are lock on his, silence fills the air surrounding the both of you.

"Give me some time and space to think about it. I'll get back to you, okay?" you let him know with a small voice before you get your pinky finger out of his grasp.

He nods at you slowly before moving his body out of your space, letting you breathe properly.

"It's getting cold out here, you better get back inside.” You move slowly out of the way to head home. “I'll head home first, goodnight."

"Goodnight, get home safely." he softly says before heading back inside to the Tipsy Bison.

You walk back to your house with so many thoughts running through your head. You already know that it's going to be a long night for you before you are able to sleep.

Thank you for reading this chapter! Reader folding over the slightest bit of Joel displaying his emotions is so me coded lmao. I will update the finale in two weeks time!

Taglist: @greenwitchfromthewoods @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @rodriguez31 @orcasoul @ashleyfilm @macaroni676 @whirlwindrider29 @vickie5446 @uncassettodiricordi

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller au #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller angst

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mattsturnioloz · 2 days

Text

Then I lost you: Pt 5. (last pt.)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4.

Summary: Matt's career as a youtuber takes a toll on his 4 year relationship with his girlfriend, putting it on hold. Will it ever be the same again?

Warnings: angst, unresolved angst, crying, fluff!!

Pairings: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

A/N: (This is gonna be the last part, it’s gonna be sad but hope you guys will love it 🫶🏼 Also I fell asleep in the middle of writing this so forgive me if it’s not my best😖 I recommend listening to the song while reading 😚)

(Also since this part is really long I recommend just replaying the song over and over until the end of the story :) if you wanna cry☠️)

Matt’s Pov:

I drive back back home, The car silent and the negative thoughts come to my head but I quickly drown them out by playing music.

I get home and open the front door, and I go up the stairs to the living room and see Chris and Nick both laying on the couch watching some netflix show and I lay in between them, putting my head on Nicks shoulder. Somewhat needing to feel my brothers comfort.

“Are you okay?” he speaks up looking at me on his shoulder. I shake my head while staring at the tv and picking at my nails. He puts his arm around my shoulders and rests his head against mine and Chris rubs his hand up and down, on my partly exposed back and they exchange sympathetic glances at eachother.

Nick and Chris fall asleep during the show and I get bored, closely listening to the analog clock that we have above the couch, ticking, and the soft snores of Chris and Nick filling my ears.

I decide to get up and clean up around the house, doing basic chores until later in the day when it’s time to get ready. I shower quickly so that I don’t have time to think about the negatives. I grab the towel and dry myself off before going to my room.I go to my closet. The side where y/n’s clothes used to be is empty and the sight hurts. The hangers just.. hanging.

I knock out of it and I change into a plain light grey, almost white hoodie, and light blue baggy jeans with a pair of white air forces. Something casual but nice.

I’m nervous, like I was before picking her up for our first date, 5 years ago. I know where im taking her already and I can’t wait, but it’s going to bring back memories and i’m not sure that it’s a good thing right now.

I put on my Vivienne Westwood earrings and necklace to match before fixing up my hair. I hook my keys on the belt loop of my jeans and I spray cologne and deodorant before turning off my room light and heading out closing the door behind me.

I would say bye to Nick and Chris but they’re passed out on the couch so I go down to the stairs to the front door, leaving and locking the door after I walk out. I walk over to my car, getting in and I can feel my heart beating out of my chest.

I stop by a flower shop and I grab a bouquet of plumeria flowers, her favorite. The same ones I got her on our first date with all sorts of pretty colors that all go well together. They’re beautiful and vibrant, just like her.

I pay for them before I go back out my car and I get in buckling my seatbelt and I take a deep breath before I start the car and I start driving to Y/n’s house. Y/n’s house.

I break down in sobs, letting my cries out before I get to her place. I feel like I can’t breathe, gripping the wheel so tight, that my palms start to turn white.

I get there and park before putting the mirror down and making sure I look okay. I get out taking a deep breath, taking in the warm Los angeles sunset. I go over to her front door and let my fist hover over the door for a moment, my palms sweaty and I wipe them before I knock.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Y/n’s Pov:

I’m changing into a nice simple white dress, when I hear a knock on the door. Shit. I hope I look okay. I dust my dress off in the mirror while also checking if my makeup looks alright before grabbing my purse and turning off the lights. I go to the front door and open it to see Matt standing there. He looks so good.

“Hey baby..” He says with a warm smile. He looks nervous, exactly like he did on our first date. It’s radiating off of him and I feel my palms start to sweat. I see tear stains on his cheeks but i’d rather not bring it up and ruin the mood.. Instead I wrap arms around him and hug him.

I can feel my body shaking, I don’t wanna lose him. Why are we even trying? What was the point of splitting up if we were just going to act like a couple? Technically today, we still are one.

We finally let go of what will be one of our last hugs. My heart is still aching to the point where it’s starts to hurt physically. “Youre so beautiful.. you always have been..” He says in the sweetest, most gentle tone. He grabs me the waist pulling me closer, while looking me up and down in awe.

“Thank you baby..” I reply, smiling and I press a kiss to his lips. “You ready to go?” He asks. His tone almost sad. But I nod and smile in response.

This is what I was still holding on to. Moments like these. Moments like last night, and this morning. I love him. So much. I wish he would just tell me that he takes it all back. That he wants to be with me. That he wants to try again.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Matt’s Pov:

I grab her hand after she locks her door and I lead her to my car, opening the door for her. She kisses me on the way in before smiling at me. Her smile makes my heart flutter. She’s so beautiful. Everything about her is just so beautiful.

I kiss her again before shutting the door and making my way around the car and into the drivers seat. We buckle ourselves in before I start the car. The sun still setting by the minute.

I roll the windows down, the air warm and fresh, and Y/n plays music, singing along with it, and I can’t help but smile and steal a few glances at her. We stop at a red light and I reach in the backseat. She looks at me, confused and I grab the plumeria flowers, handing them to her.

She freezes and she looks up at me almost in shock. She knows. I can tell that she wants to cry but she doesn’t. She flashes me a big smile. “Thank you so much baby, I love them!” She says with the biggest smile before smelling them. “Of course, i’m glad you like them..” I say reaching over and putting my hand on her thigh, caressing it gently before just letting my thumb glide side to side.

I’m devastated that i’m losing all of this. I can’t believe I treated her the way I did. I wish I could take back everything i’ve said to hurt her. Maybe this wouldn’t be happening. If i would’ve just treated her right and gave her the love and attention that she deserves. I let my career get in the way of our relationship. Our love.

“I’m glad we’re doing this.” I say, glancing at her. “Me too, Matt. I’m really glad.” She responds. “I’m sorry.” I say, my voice cracking. Dammit, why do I keep crying. She turns her head too quick to look at me. “I’m sorry for all the things I did and said to push you away. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you better.” I swallow the lump in my throat. She takes my hand that’s still on her thigh and she kisses it.

“It’s okay Matt.. like you said, it’s for the best.. It just wasn’t working for either of us…” I nod and I want to tell her that I take it back, but I can’t. I know I can’t.

“Now let’s talk about something else to get your mind off of it yea?” she says smiling at me. How can she smile? How can she keep her composure when she’s probably more hurt than I am. I’m the one who said it won’t work. But I nod again. We talk about some more random things like our careers and future projects we might have planned and want to do.

We arrive at the restaurant and she looks at me with her jaw dropped while smiling. The same restaurant that I brought her to on our first date. “Ravioli?” She asks with a shriek, her voice crackling when she does. “Ravioli.” I nod chuckling her reaction.

I kiss her hand before unbuckling my seatbelt and I get out, making my way to the passenger side and opening the door for her, grabbing her hand to help her out. “I swear, you’re so beautiful baby.” I say closing the door before wrapping my arms around her waist pulling her closer and I kiss her.

“I could look at you for the rest of my life, and never get tired..”I mumble, against her lips before moving my kisses down to her jaw, then to her neck. She giggles at the feeling, making my heart flutter at the sound of her laugh.

I leave a small subtle hickey before pulling away and kissing her lips one more time and I grab her hand. “Let’s go.” I say, locking the car as I lead her towards the restaurant.

We go inside and I request the same table we had on the first date and thankfully, it was available. We get seated and handed our menus but we don’t bother to look inside because we both know we’re getting ravioli.

“I love that we’re recreating our first date.” She says, reaching across the table to hold my hand. “I thought you might. It feels like our first date all over again.” I smile, planting a gentle kiss against her knuckles.

The waitress comes over and we order, and not long after we get our food. We talk, eat and laugh about old times for hours, and eventually we’re the last people at the restaurant, the night coming to an end.

I pay the bill and we go quiet. Neither of us wanting the night to end. We stand up and I grab her hand leading her out the restaurant and I walk over to the trunk grabbing a blanket. “We’re going to the park too?” She smiles looking back towards the park next to the restaurant and I nod smiling.

“Gotta recreate our first date for our last.” I say placing a kiss on her temple. I lead her towards the park, the only lights being the dim street lights. I lead her to the grass, placing the blanket down and I kneel, helping her down before we both lay, looking up at the stars with her head and hand resting on my chest.

This feels right. The coldness of the night breeze making me feel peace. The mix of the stars and the streetlights, highlighting her features perfectly.

Hours pass. We talk while stargazing and eventually it’s 2 am. “I don’t want this night to end..” She’s says quietly. “Me neither baby..” I say, holding her closer.

Eventually we get up and she start to shiver so I wrap the blanket around her and hold her for a little before we stroll down the park back to my car.

I open the passenger door and let her inside before shutting the door while taking a deep breath and walking over to my side. I get in and it’s quiet. I glance at her and I can see her devastation.

I start the car and start driving towards her house. I put my hand on her thigh again, caressing it, and she grabs my hand intertwining her fingers with mine. The whole ride there silent.

When we arrive, I look over at her and she’s already looking at me with tears rolling down her cheeks at a rapid pace and she breaks down into sobs, her breath pace increasing.

To no surprise I start crying too. I get out of the car running to her side, opening the door and practically yanking her out, into a hug. Her sobs are killing me. “Listen to me Y/n.” I say lifting her head from my chest, cupping her cheeks, and wiping her tears with my thumbs.

“I’ll always be here for you, i’ll always love you so much, you’re the love of my life. No matter what, it’s always gonna be you baby.” I cry softly, pulling her head back to my chest. Her cries die down and all I hear is her occasional sniffling. “I love you, Matt..” she hiccups. “I love you too y/n.. more than life itself. I always will. Always and forever..” I say mumbling into her hair.

She pulls back and kisses me, and we make out slowly and passionately, taking our time, tears mixed in between. I give her one more soft loving kiss but eventually we part and my heart shatters into so many pieces to the point where i’m not sure that there even is one.

We let go of eachother and she makes her way towards her door and when she reaches it she looks back at me one more time. “I love you.” She says, with a teary smile. “I love you more.” I say smiling back, my own tears rolling down my face.

She watches me a little longer before turning around and unlocking her door, disappearing inside after she closes it. I take in the bittersweet moment. The love of my life is officially gone.

I take deep breaths as I walk to my door and I get in, starting the car and immediately driving away, because if I didn’t, I would be banging on her door begging her to stay with me.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Y/n’s Pov:

I feel my heart break the more that I watch his car fade into the distance through my window and after i can’t see it anymore, I walk over to my couch and plopping on it. The silence too silent, like im drowning in it.

I look at the promise ring on my finger that he gave me long ago when we hit our 2 year anniversary. Taking in the memories that came with it. Remembering every detail of that beautiful night.

I stare at the boxes of my things that are still packed and I look around, taking in the emptiness and loneliness of my new home. 5 years with the love of my life… gone.. and I miss him already.. I miss him so much and all of our memories come flooding back. But then I realize that this was goodbye.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Matt’s Pov:

As I drive further away from y/n’s house, a part of me is gone and feels like it’s been taken, but I know this was my doing. It’s all my fault. I need somewhere to go. To feel at peace. But then it hits me. The beach.

I drive to the beach, trying to drown out the painful after thoughts of losing y/n and the aching in my chest. My vision becomes blurry when soft tears fill my eyes.

I play music to try and drown out the images. The images of her smiling at me. The sound of her laughter. The sound of her crying. But it’s all too much and it doesn’t help that white ferrari by frank ocean starts playing.

When I get to the beach I park and pause. As if time stopped and I take in the sight, the memories flooding back all at once.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

Flashback:

“Where are you taking me?” Y/n giggles, as my hands are covering her eyes. “Be patient my love, you’ll see..” I say placing a kiss on her temple. I lead her to the spot at the beach and I uncover her eyes.

A whole picnic set up for us with blankets, pillows, her favorite snacks and board games. “Oh my god..” She says looking back at me with her jaw dropped and she jumps into my arms and I catch her, holding her up by her thighs, kissing her face repeatedly.

Her skin is soft and her hair is flowing with the night breeze making her look more beautiful than ever. The city lights reflecting on her face, highlighting her beautiful features.

I put her down giving her a kiss and I pull her down onto the blankets and pillows. “I have one more surprise for you my love..” I say, brushing her hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

“Another one? Baby you didn’t have to-“ She says. “Shush, you deserve it and so much more.” I say cutting her off and pulling out a ring. “It’s a promise ring.”

She smiles and her eyes well up with tears. “Matt that’s so sweet oh my goodness..” She says trying to hold back her tears. I pause and take a deep breath before speaking.

“Y/n I promise to always be here for you, to be the one who cherishes your love. I promise to be faithful and to be the man that you deserve.” I say, sliding the ring on her ring finger. “I promise to be the woman you deserve too baby.. I promise i’ll always love you..” she says hugging me.

After that she lays in my lap, her upper back against my chest and her head against the crook of my neck as I hold her. We watch the stars and stare out into the darkness of the ocean, the city lights reflecting onto the water. The night is perfect and so is she.

I turn her face towards me and I gently kiss her lips. “I love you Y/n..” I say with a smile. “I love you more baby..”

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

I walk towards where the sea meets the land and I sit in the very spot from that night, I breathe and take in the night air. The waves crash gently against the shore, a soothing rhythm that once matched the beat of our hearts.

I sat at the edge of the ocean, the place where we made our promises. The night sky seems endless, but it only reminds me of the distance between us now. Every memory we shared flashed before my eyes, each one more vivid than the last. The laughter, the tears, the promises we made.. they all feel so close, yet so far away.

In that moment, I realize that everything we had was slipping through my fingers like sand and I regret everything I said that pushed you away, I just want you back.

The echoes of our last conversation lingered in the air, haunting me with every breath I take. The place we once cherished now feels empty, a different contrast to the warmth you brought into my life.

The sky darkened, identical to the darkness I now feel in my life. The gentle breeze that once brought your laughter now carried only silence.

I sat there, hoping for a miracle, a sign that you might come back. A sign that this wasn't the end. I could only hope that we’d find each other again when the time was right.. but for now, I whispered your name one last time, knowing deep down that this was goodbye, and just like that you were gone.

Then I lost you.

———- ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ———-

3,086 words.

A/N: (Ahhh my first series is finally finished!! I’m so devastated, and i’m as we speak. Thank you all for the support and I really hope you guys love this last part :) thank you 🫶🏼)

Taglist: @urmom69lol @imwetforyourmom @tsturniolo4 @watercolorskyy @starzinasblog @urfavstromboli @sturniqloo @star-yawnznn @h3arts4harry @asherrisrandom

#matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic

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luveline · 2 days

Note

hii 🤍 i miss spencer, amanda and reader 🥺 when will reader and spencer finally kiss?? hahahah

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.2k

Amanda’s dad has a girlfriend with a kind mouth that curls in smiles, like seeing her is the one thing you’ve waited for all day. You have slow hands: your fingers ease through Amy’s hair one strand at a time, warm, but somehow shivers race down her spine whenever you touch her. You’re like her dad, in that you kiss her cheek before bed or hug her with one arm. You’re a gentle touch whenever Amy wants it. You and Spencer are both enthusiastically tactile.

What Amy doesn’t understand is why you and her dad never seem to kiss. Amy isn’t sure if she wants to see it. She hasn’t thought of it in depth, just knows that you and Spencer are both grown ups who love one another —Spencer looks to you in every room, his eyes squinting against the sight of you like you’re some star, a sun, bright and blistering and too beautiful to look away. It’s like a movie. Plus, Amy wants a stepmom. Paula from school has one and she says it’s awesome.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?” Spencer’s voice echoes, head deep inside a cabinet looking for a can of evaporated milk. “We don’t buy enough canned stuff. We’d be screwed in the apocalypse.”

“I like fresh.”

“Of course you do. You’re brilliant.”

“Brilliant,” you echo, legs swinging against the cabinet behind your legs. You hold the door to prevent Spencer’s likely head injury.

“Dad?” Amy asks again.

He pulls his head from the empty cabinet to appease her. “I know, I’m looking for the hot cocoa powder.”

“That’s not what I want to ask.”

“Oh. Well, what do you want from me, angel?”

You choose that moment to hop down off of the counter top, phone in hand. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, leaving with no further explanation.

It’s good timing. Amy crowds her dad to look up at him, a reflection of her brown eyes peering down at her curiously. He cups the back of her head. “What, Amy?” he asks.

He says her name nicely, too. Amy is bathed in love, all the time, but it never gets any less warming. She wraps her arms around his thighs and rubs her nose against his stomach, cuddling into him.

He’s patient, but not unaware. “What do you want, beautiful?” he murmurs, fingers scratching gently up his scalp and through her hair, soft ends of it fluttering down onto her shoulders. He repeats the motion. “I’m listening.”

“Why don’t you and Y/N ever kiss?”

He laughs softly. “Why are you asking me a question like that?”

“You’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but you don’t kiss or anything. Do you?”

Spencer holds her face, more fingers in her hair than anything on account of her small head. “No, we don’t kiss,” he says, like it’s a secret, but a good one. Amy’s confused squinting makes him laugh again. “Um… just, it’s not easy to explain, but we’re taking things slowly. That means that we like one another, but we’re not rushing to do things we aren’t ready for.”

“You’re not ready to kiss her?” Amy asks.

“Maybe not.” Spencer doesn’t share that you aren’t completely ready either, far as he’s aware. This is a big thing for both of you, months of deep pining, a fragility. “It’s not because I don’t want to.”

“She’s really pretty. I think you should hurry, just in case someone else likes her.”

Spencer hugs her to his tummy and gives her a squeeze. “She’s beautiful like someone else I know. And I will kiss her, I’m waiting for the right time.”

Amy forgets about what she’d been asking after that, charmed and then ferried to her room to get dressed. We’ll have to go out for cocoa, Spencer had said, bundling her in a big coat. You were all to happy to put your shoes on and join them, Spencer’s borrowed scarf shielding your neck and jaw, your nose quickly sniffly against the cold.

Amy takes your hand on the way into the cafe and savours the warmth of it. She will need to concoct the right time, she decides, for her dad to kiss you, if only so she can be a flower girl at your wedding. If you get married (if your wedding ceremony even has flower girls). She’s just thinking maybe she’ll be the maid of honour when you push out a chair for her. She settles in, wondering if you’d like flowers, what sort of clothes you’d wear, if you’d come live with them in the apartment, sipping at a procured, thick hot chocolate while you and Spencer chat.

“Half?” he asks, knife poised over a pastry.

“I already ate all mine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He cuts the pastry in half and offers it to you, a red and golden brown mini pie, fruit glistening in its jelly, flaky salt on the top that tumbles off the edges as he passes it to you. “Here.”

You take a big bite. You smile so much you can hardly chew.

Spencer stares at you.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

You have fruit on your lip. Your genuine puzzlement is all the more enticing: how is Spencer supposed to look away? He hooks his ankle around a leg from your chair and draws closer.

“You know, I heard you earlier.”

“When?” he asks.

“Before we left. You were telling Amy that you think I’m pretty.”

“No, Amy said pretty, I said beautiful. I should’ve said perfect.”

“That so?” you tease.

Spencer has to wonder what’s beneath it. Kiss me, kiss me. Lean over and do it, Reid. Or if he hears what he wants from your lilting mouth. “I’m sure there’s a hundred words I should’ve said.”

“You don’t have to say anything else,” you say decidedly, your hands falling to his knee, “that’s enough flattery for today.”

“Is it?”

“You sound entirely genuine,” you say, voice turning soft now, a padded thing to think about later.

“I am,” he says. Simply, and hopelessly, leaning in to breathe the same air.

“Is now the right time?” you whisper.

“You heard that?” he asks back.

“I’m ready whenever you’re ready.”

Spencer chances a glance at Amy where she’s ripping at the paper sleeve on her hot chocolate before he holds your arm to kiss you. A chaste, brushing touch, pressure of a butterfly’s wing at first and then marginally firmer. He kisses you, and he pulls away just as your bringing your hand to his cheek.

“Was that okay?” he asks.

“Very princely.”

“So you're getting married, right?” Amy butts in, her smile a thousand watts. “Yes? Can I choose the flowers? Can we go on a honeymoon?”

Spencer flushes at the idea of Amy seeing him, but then he feels sick thinking about such a short first kiss, covering the side of your face with his hand to occlude his lips as he moves in and gives you another.

“Dad, one was enough.” Amy’s concern is grouching, and it makes you laugh against his mouth.

You both pull away. “Sorry, Amy,” Spencer says, “but you did tell me to hurry up.”

“Yikes. Can I have some pie?”

Spencer hands her his uneaten half. You search for his hand under the table.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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lusmeitli · 2 days

Text

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break.

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him.

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together.

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left.

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?”

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand.

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped.

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face.

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

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