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#I think the camera is the last thing for me to figure out. but I have already gotten everything else down pretty easily
nostappen · 15 hours
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LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV #CH8
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series summary : max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings (contains spoilers) : angst, media hate, bad comments, slut shaming, shaming in general, men being disgusting, allusions to anxiety, brief mention of past trauma and bad parental figures, swearing. possible erros in the sns part (not edited).
↻ links : prev . masterlist . next
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CHAPTER EIGHT # PICKING UP YOUR PIECES
Under complete discretion, you wandered across the paddock disguised as a staff member from Mercedes, accompanied by some members of your team. 
You successfully avoided reporters and the fans crowding the main entrance of the place by jumping a fence near the garages with the help of Susie, then talked amicably your entire way to your spot with her and were received by some people with your clothes for the day. Hiding under some black Mercedes shirt, a pair of washed-off jeans, and one cap, you felt nearly invincible against the cameras. 
No one truly expected you to be on the grid after many days of missing preparations for the races and two out of the three practices, yet here you were, in your planned disguise, fully knowing no one would pay you any mind since you never wore Mercedes attire unless it was race day and you absolutely had to wear a suit.
“Be honest, I look ugly, right?” You say admiring your reflection in the small mirror Max reluctantly holds up for you. 
He, much like you, is here hanging under complete discretion. 
Verstappen is supposed to be in his garage going over some items for the third practice, yet he sprinted to your spot the second he found out you were here. You promised to give him some food you cooked for him and your friends, so he stayed around for longer than expected under the excuse of being hungry and bored out of his mind. 
“I mean…” He shrugs, moving his shoulders up and down and getting your reflection out of the frame, causing you to groan in annoyance. “No, no, listen.” He quickly lowers the mirror and attempts to save himself from some possible complaining. “It’s not like you look ugly. You cannot look ugly, even if you tried, but the Mercedes fit is a bit…” 
“So, you think I’m pretty.” You smile and raise up his arm so you can take a good look at yourself again. “I knew it. I knew your way of flirting was teasing and being an ass, just like those stupid kids on kindergarden.” 
“What?” He frowns and sees you doing a little twirl before accommodating your Mercedes cap backward.
“You know, when you were a kid and liked another classmate so you pushed their buttons until they caught onto your weird flirting.” 
“I never did that.” He lowers the mirror and you groan at him again. “What, woman? Just go to a bathroom if you wanna stare at your reflection so badly.” 
He feigns annoyance but his small smile gives him away in this situation. The more irritated you grow, the less tense he acts around you, and you cannot help but follow in his banter just to see him more relaxed around you. 
Truth be told, you had invited him to hangout just to test the waters after your serious talk in your house. 
He had texted you for the first two days, updating you about things you didn’t ask for, and you appreciated his attempts at maintaining a civil conversation through the phone. You could tell he was really trying to get on your good side and make this more bearable, and you wanted to give him the same reassurance by replying to all of his texts and even adding some updates from your side as well, even if you didn’t have much to say. 
Sometimes he’d ask at different hours of the day what you were up to, and you’d reply saying you took a few pictures around the place or were binge-watching some shows on the TV. Then he’d tell you about his car or some things he saw on the paddock, and you’d keep the conversation going for a few more minutes until he had to leave to help around with some members of the staff, and when he returned, he’d ask how you were feeling and how was the TV show, or ask you to share some of the pictures you took. 
It made things easier  and you could tell it helped Max to bond a bit with you, so you never attempted to call him or invite him over in his free time, because you believed he needed to take smaller steps first and then truly approach you in a friendlier manner; but there was also a possibility that he only wanted to keep your relations professional and he was treating you amicably because you had attempted to understand him despite the things he did to you, so you didn’t push it too hard. 
You weren’t sure about Max’s intentions and that was alright with you. As long as he didn’t backtrack on his words or hurt you in any way, you’d let things flow between you two. 
“I’m not going anywhere. Carlos will arrive any minute now and I want to be here to greet him,” your hand goes back to his wrist, raising his arm again and this time you observe your face, touching multiple spots you don’t like before frowning. “I like my face.” 
“You don’t sound so convinced…” Max replies with his eyes fixated on you. “Why aren’t you convinced?” 
“I mean, I do like how I look but sometimes I look at myself too intensely and I no longer like what I see. It’s whatever though, whenever that happens I just remind myself I like what I see and hope I believe my words.” 
“Well, I like your face,” he finally puts the mirror on a free spot next to him and makes an extra effort to maintain eye contact after admitting that. A cheeky smile forms on your face and you bop his nose cutely before giggling. “Never, ever, do that again.” 
“What? This?” You bop his nose again and he grabs your finger before you can retreat it completely, lowering it to his mouth before attempting to touch it with the tip of his tongue. “No, ew! Fuck off, Max Emilian. Fucking shit,” you frown, wiping your finger on your jeans. “You are disgusting.” 
Max smiles, entertained with your over the top reaction, and holds both hands up in defense. “You are disgusting too.” 
“How can you like my face if you find me disgusting?” You press him and a pair of arms wraps under your torso, making you yelp before someone rests his chin on top of your head. “Carlos?” 
“Yeah, and I’m also here too,” you hear George before you see him appearing on your left. “Oh, God. What’s this arse shit doing here?” He points at Max and the dutch rolls his eyes. 
“Nice to see you too, royal blasphemy.” You laugh a little over Max’s words and he smiles at your reaction. “You too, Carlos.” 
“I’m also a royal blasphemy?” The man asks teasingly, bringing you closer to his chest and you put a hand on top of his tight grip around you. “I thought bullying hours were only open for George.” 
“We can do a 2x1 promotion,” you reply before pinching his skin and making him yelp and retreat surprised. “How many times have I told you and everybody else that I do not like when sweaty people touch me?” 
“Princess,” Carlos tries to reason and you turn around, pressing your index to his chest. “I just came from training. Of course I’m sweaty.” 
“Then stay away. No hugs until you take a shower, understood, Carly?” Max gets up from his seat behind you, adjusting his cap visor better and giving a nod towards George as a small goodbye, before taking two steps away from you, then he gets stopped by your voice. “Where do you think you are going, Verstappen?” You repproach. 
“I can be your mirror holder later, okay? I just need to get some stuff sorted out but I’ll be back,” he excuses himself and waves a hand timidly before continuing his path to his place, taking the small door behind the Mercedes garage to guide himself out instead of walking out through the garage entrance. 
You share a few confused looks with Carlos until you glance at George and notice him suppressing a laugh, which only serves to confuse you even more. 
By the time practice starts you will be out of the paddock again and on your way home in a car with Susie, ready  to spend the night with her and watch some movies or chit-chat, so you don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to wish everybody good luck, including Max. 
As you promised, you’ve cooked some stuff for your friends, —well, more like baked— but you had brought an extra paper bag with something inside that was only for Verstappen and didn’t involve any food, and you had to give it to him now before George or Carlos stepped in again. 
“Max! Max!” Grabbing the paper bag and the plate covered with some kitchen rags from the house, you stumble across the garage, muttering multiple apologies to some members of the staff, as you attempt to catch the Dutchman. “Emi!” You finally yell and he stops, turning around in the corridor connecting all garages. 
Max observes you with curiosity and a bit of fear, noticing you closing the gap between you two at a fast pace until you nearly push the trail of food against his chest and shake another small bag close to him with a happy smile. 
He has to retreat a bit and extend both hands forward to catch the plate and prevent the food from failing while simultaneously asking you what you wanted and why you didn’t stay with your friends. 
“I made you a gift!” You announce and let go of the plate, allowing him to carry on it fully. “But first, voila!” Your free hand takes off the rag, showing him six cupcakes. “Pick two.” Max, puzzled, points at the two cupcakes with blue frosting on top and small white bits. “Okay, no, pick another two.” 
Letting out a huff, Max points at the yellow ones, and you frown. “Why don’t you pick them for me?” 
“Wonderful!” You celebrate and push apart from the remaining two with green frosting and small bits of pink candy sprinkled around it. “These are for you.” 
Max wishes he could hate your excitement right now. You are being noisy, overly-dramatic and a bit too on the nose with your gifts, but you look at him so happily he cannot help but feel a bit excited as well over this. 
It wasn’t the biggest of presents, just a small treat before practice —, and if he had to be honest, you were making him waste crucial time before he got to test his car once more, but he was enjoying every second of it. Even the many minutes he held onto your mirror and acted like he wanted to be anywhere else but right next to you, he still smiled because he enjoyed spending time with you. 
At first, he was a bit awkward, he had to admit that. One thing was interacting casually through texts and trying to carry on a conversation for some minutes between breaks, but besides that, he didn’t expect this to reach anything else. He told you to visit him if you went to the paddock but he didn’t really believe you would, you weren’t close in the slightest, and after you missed two days of preparation, he thought you wouldn’t show up at all, yet you appeared out of nowhere dressed as a staff member and called for him from your garage to have a small talk that lead nowhere and only had him bickering and laughing with you. 
You promised him food and only now that he wanted to leave you remembered you had to give him the little treats all excited, and Max felt conflicted. 
Why were you still being nice to him? Had he made you any happier just by talking nonsense through text? Were you going to treat him as a friend now that you both shared a moment of sincerity? 
“Thank you,” Max decides to exaggerate just to irk you a little bit and grabs one of the two cupcakes. “These are totally my favorite colors. You know me so well, Schatje.” 
“Shut up, Emilian. I cooked those with love —.” 
“And poison, right?” He interrupts you. “You want to get me sick before practice.” 
“Bullshit, if I wanted you sick I would have food poisoned you the day of the actual race, not during practice.” You explain and grab the plate with a hand, moving the other close to his chest and making the paper bag hit him a little. “This is your present as well.” Max leaves the cupcake back on the plate and grabs the small gift, taking off a hat with the signature dark blue of Red Bull but without all the sponsors around, just one small ‘RB’ knitted near the back in orange. “No offense but the caps your team gives you are ugly.” 
“You knitted my team on a cap?” He asks absent-mindedly. 
“Because your caps are ugly.” 
“You knitted me a gift.” This time he sentences every word affirmatively, finally letting the information sink in. 
“To save you from the ugly caps of Red Bull,” you insist. “It has a thirty-three inside the cap as well so you never forget your first number, but I also added a small number one on the other side.” You point out with your finger and Max remains silent through your explanation, taking in all the little details around the hat. You’ve knitted the R and B tinily near the back and added a small sun near it.
The design is simple but it looks well put together and Max cannot begin to imagine how long it took you to get all those letters and numbers around. He was never skilled when it came to knitting or doing many smaller things that required patience. He liked to stick to racing and occasionally paddling, so he admired the drivers who had multiple skills besides the sport they shared in common. 
“Thank you,” Verstappen finally raises his head to see you and the corners of his mouth raise forming the cutest, most sincere smile you’ve ever seen on him. “This is the sweetest gift. I will make sure to repay you.” 
Noticing the burning sensation on your cheeks, you attempt to joke off your adorable gesture by pushing his shoulder slightly and laughing a bit. “You can repay me by coming in third or fourth during this weekend’s race.” 
“You’d hate me if I lost on purpose.” 
“You are right,” you take the plate away from him once he gets a hold of your cupcakes and also move two steps backwards. “Just do your best and don’t wear anything too ugly for interviews, will you? It’s embarrassing to see my boyfriend on TV wearing only Red Bull merch.” 
‘My boyfriend,’ Max dances around those two words you so naturally pronounced, and smiles again, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you probably called him that way just to tease him some more. 
It’s odd, but it sounds good whenever you refer to him as your partner, even if it is a joke. The words roll down your tongue naturally, like it’s meant to be. 
“You can catch me wearing this hat for the remaining interviews of the week,” he promises and takes a bite of a cupcake. “Oh, shit, this is delicious, what the fuck.” 
“I’m a master chef, baby.” 
“Fuck, yes you are. How much do I have to pay you to cook some more of these things?” 
“Well, I was thinking about dropping some of these on Sunday morning for the boys. I can bake you some too.” 
“I’d love that please.” 
“Only if you wear the hat and get rid of the skinny jeans.” 
Max laughs, taking another bite and shaking his head in negativity. Once he swallows the sweet treat completely he replies again. “You want me to go around in boxers and a Red Bull t-shirt?” He suggests and you frown, fixing your eyes on his mouth before cleaning a small portion of frosting from his top lip with your thumb. “What are..?” 
“You’ve got some…” you stop mid-sentence, concentrating on grabbing the green frosting from around his mouth and lowering your thumb near his chin. “You also have it here…” 
Against his better judgment, Max follows your movements, tracing a patter from your hand to your face before your touch abandons his face and his hand instinctively reaches for yours, clasping around it and bringing it forward just to clean it with the paw of his Red Bull jacket. 
“There, better,” Max nearly whispers with his eyes fixated on yours. “Thank you.” 
“You…I’m glad you liked the cupcake.” Quickly, you force your hand out of his grip and reach for the second cupcake, pushing it toward him timidly. “Here, have the other one. I have to go.” 
“I…” he barely pronounces, grabbing the treat, before you begin walking back into your garage without saying goodbye. 
Verstappen stays in his place for a few seconds in silence, confused over his and your actions. Warmness expands on his chest like a plague, mixing with a little weird sensation in his stomach as well. He feels a bit of everything: happiness, nervousness, excitement, confusion. It hits him so suddenly that he doesn’t know what to do except look at the direction you took to leave him abruptly and then force himself back into his garage with his cheeks rosy and his stomach mixing butterflies with green frosting and pink candy bits.
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“What the…?” 
You aren’t allowed to finish the sentence before the car gets parked in front of all the lights, making you retreat to the opposite corner of the back seat. 
Your driver turns off the engine, turning to look at you worriedly, and signals across all windows. There are reporters on the front, making it impossible to move the vehicle away from the entrance path to the wood’s house, but you also notice flashes coming from the back as well, making you realize that you are surrounded by more than the average amount of reporters. 
“We need to go,” you demand to the driver and he suggests waiting until they move but your patience is running thin as well as your energy. You stayed longer than expected, visiting a few friends around the paddock and even going as far as joining the Mercedes meeting to get some updates regarding your car and the strategy the team will be using. “Now.” 
“We cannot move from here. I can try to walk you out.”
“No way, they will jump us in a second.” 
“We can push past them. It will be better than waiting here until they leave…because they won’t.” The driver concludes and you unlock your phone, quickly searching for a name on your contact list that can help. 
At this hour every member of the team that you know of will be busy watching over George and Carlos’ performance during practice to make some adjustments to their cars. Lewis will also be by their side with Charles on their Ferrari cars and Max will be stuck there too. Even Susie, who had originally planned to drive you to your house had to cancel at the last minute due to an emergency and shortened your list of contacts to call for help. 
“I need to think,” you murmur, looking through the window and receiving another blinding flash through the glass. 
“I can walk you out.” 
“I said I need to think,” you repeat yourself more sternly now and give the driver one last look before closing your eyes for a few seconds and hiding your face in your palms. 
A few minutes pass by only hearing the sounds of the cameras going off and many reporters asking you questions from outside. ‘How are you feeling now?’ ‘Are you still dating Max or you are now with Carlos?’ ‘Why aren’t you in the paddock right now?’ ‘Will Max join you tonight now that his practice was cut short?’ 
Wait. 
Max’s practice was cut short…why? 
Unlocking your phone rapidly, you search for Max’s contact but he gets to call you first, taking you by surprise the moment your device starts vibrating on your hand and his name pops up before you can find it on your list. 
“Yn? Are you already home?” You hear him speak rapidly. “I think something —.” 
“Are you okay, Emi?” You ask him worriedly, cutting him off without intending to. “What happened? Why aren’t you still practicing?” 
“Yn, are you in your house now?” 
“Why does that matter? What happened to you?” You persist, growing agitated by the second. The flashes have ceased but the questions come from all sides, making you feel increasingly uncomfortable in your seat. There are way too many people around you all talking simultaneously, which is irking you. “Please tell me you didn’t crash your car or something. Are you okay?” 
“Will you shut up and hear me for a second?” He replies as exasperated as you. “Someone from your own staff leaked your location to the media. Reporters are probably on their way to your house.” 
Looking through the window you sigh, dropping your gaze to your shoes. “They are already here.”
“What? Are you also there? Fuck,” he curses. “Listen, I’m already walking to the parking lot. I will be there as quickly as possible.” 
“It’s an hour and a half drive from the paddock,” the realization hits you and your hand flies to the door handle, gripping it tightly. This car is too small to keep you safe and the noise is too loud. You need to be elsewhere.“I need to get out of here.” 
“No, no, listen. I will be there and pick you up. We can move you somewhere else —.” 
“Shut up, Max, I need to leave this stupid car.” 
“You are gonna get ambushed if —.” 
You end the call and adjust your Mercedes cap on your head before opening the door and walking out without uttering a single word to your driver. 
You have to get into your house now. You need to be alone.
 
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Where could you possibly store all your anger? You’ve seen it so frequently in your house you’ve grown accustomed to it until your father left, but even then, you never truly felt it yourself prior to this moment. 
One quick look at your phone had you fuming with anger. 
You’ve tolerated the questions thrown your way once you joined. You justified their skepticism towards you from the beginning and tried to reason with the media respectfully, answering all their pertinent asks and attempting your best to ease down their worries about you by showing them great results in every race, but that wasn’t enough. 
Once they couldn’t criticize your skills, they moved to your appearance. They commented on your clothes, your make-up or lack thereof, your hair, your posture, your way of laughing a bit too loudly or not laughing at all when they joked at your expense. They simply said things towards you and for the most part you ignored them, sticking to answering the truly important questions and turning a blind eye to everything else but this was something you simply couldn’t brush off. 
They’ve launched a hate campaign to make you look like a complete fool and you weren’t even aware of it until now that you finally decided to stupidly look up your name on the internet. 
It was disheartening at first but then it enraged you. 
They camped outside of your house with their cameras ready and their voices intoned to ask you the dumbest, most unnecessary bits of information, and you felt utterly violated. 
Wasn’t your silence enough of a given to your state? You’ve hidden from them in plain sight, yet they refused to take the hint and leave you alone. They demanded everything from you: the perfect performance, the perfect reactions, and the perfect stories to tell, and now that you needed space to breathe and rest, they refused to give you that despite your attempts to give them everything they asked for since you started your career in F1.
You could never win when it came to the media. The ones who liked you were the fans but the reporters despised you and their words affected you. 
Your hands trembled holding the small device, the room momentarily being flashed by a red light. You couldn’t see past your anger at this very moment and the insistent noise of your bell going off in the background only served to push you towards the edge. 
You wanted to get back at them somehow. You were tired of pretending like winning was the biggest price you could hold against them. It never fulfilled you when you attempted to be the bigger person in the room; you could only understand so much, silence so many words, and push down your crawling anger until it finally surfaced for everybody to see. 
You were losing the fight.
“Fuck off!” You finally scream from the couch and jump from it the moment your words are answered by another impertinent ring. “I said, fuck off!” Your hands catch a lamp near you and throw it across the space, smashing it against the entrance. 
The porcelain flies everywhere, shattering into tiny and medium fragments, and the loud noise it produces has you flinching away, bringing back the normal colors around the room momentarily until your anger takes over once more, defeating your fear towards your own actions. 
Where can you put all this anger? 
You saw it before. You had heard the screams your father and mother shared at some point. You’ve seen firsthand how it affected your mom and how scary it could turn, but you were always in the position of defense. You received the short end of the anger your father carried yet never experienced it from his shoes. 
Maybe he stored his anger on your mother all these years while you stored all of yours on him during every fight. Maybe all it took was a bit of a push to see things from his perspective and discover that you shared the same short fuse. 
Breathing in and out heavily, the doorbell goes off once more, this time followed by a familiar voice screaming your name, and you shake your head letting the tears of shame fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks. 
You need to be alone. You have to be alone. 
It’s happening once more. You are so mad you cannot see past the impending issues. You feel small and helpless and so, you lash out, just like you used to when you were younger. 
You are seven once again, standing between your parents and threatening to inflict violence if the fight doesn’t stop in that instant. All you know is how to bite back once you are bitten. All you can do is fight anger with anger. 
“Yn, please, open the door. I promise they already left.” Max’s voice reaches you from the other side and you swallow the lump forming on your throat. “I’ve threatened to call the police.” 
Was that the solution? You question yourself internally. 
You’ve pushed many reporters away, knocking down some cameras in the process and never stopping to look back or apologize. You left your driver stranded in your car without saying goodbye. You ignored messages from Verstappen, and then you mistook his calls to your door with persistence from the media. 
This entire hour you thought you were surrounded and helpless. Suffocating on your grief until it morphed into anger but the cause of your rage had long been gone wasting energy on problems you couldn’t solve. 
“You promise they are gone?” The words spill without you intending to and you feel like hitting yourself for sounding so weak. “I mean —.” 
“I’m here, okay? I can stay outside until you are ready to let me in, but I promise they left and Lewis called me. They will be here as soon as possible, they just have to go through the interviews before leaving the paddock.” You reply with silence, unsure of what to do now. “Listen, if you don’t want me here, I understand, but when your friends come over, open the door, okay? They are worried about you.” 
“I always make them worry.” You mutter to yourself and take one hesitant step towards the door. “I made a mess here.” Announcing this, you take another step. 
“I can clean it before they arrive,” he suggests and you breathe out slowly, carefully stepping over some of the shattered yards with your shoes, breaking them even more. “If you let me.” 
“This is embarrassing,” you wrap your fingers around the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door for him, dragging some of the broken pieces underneath and Max breathes out in relief, seeing you unharmed and more or less in the same physical state you left the paddock earlier. 
You move to the side, allowing him to come in and he waltzes into the receiving room, finding everything intact besides the one thing you broke, which helps him feel more relaxed. 
He had reached you in time. 
“There is nothing embarrassing about this,” he comments and kneels down to pick a big fragment of the lamp. 
“I’m not supposed to lose my cool.” 
“Why not? Is it illegal to feel angry?” He attempts to joke and you swallow harshly, wiping away harshly a tear that rolls down your eye. “I’ve lashed out multiple times in the past. I’m not proud of my reactions but for the most part, my anger was provoked by the media, but what you went through right now…? Fuck, I don’t know if I would have thrown something to the door only. I’d have fought them all on the spot.” 
Another tear escapes and you hide your face in your palms, remaining quiet. Max turns around, finally seeing you and he instinctively walks toward you, stepping on the yards and causing quite a mess on your floor until he is mere centimeters away from your shaking frame. 
“I shouldn’t be reacting this way,” you sob and feel his arms wrap around you hesitantly until you also cave in, returning his hug and nuzzling your face on his chest still covered by his suit. “I don’t want to be like him.”
“In what way, dear?” Max whispers close to your ear and his warm breath tickles your skin. He actively chooses to ignore your last statement, quite sure that you are referencing your father but not exactly certain that this is the correct moment to discuss what you have implied nor of him being the person you should openly talk about this with. “You were hurt. They are pressing all your buttons because they know you will react badly. They want that.” 
“I’m doing things just like…” you stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “I’m just so angry.” 
“I understand.” 
He isn’t lying when he says that. Although you only express yourself between little moments of sincerity, he can piece all the few moments together to understand you fully. 
He knows what you mean. He’s been through that as well. Nobody granted him kindness or the opportunity to redeem himself after he committed many mistakes in front of everybody. 
Nobody stopped him when rage infected his mind and his common sense disappeared. Nobody offered him the grace of fixing things properly within himself and with others, but you did. You attempted to understand his position given the limited knowledge that you had and that made it easier for him to understand you now as well. 
He believed he knew what you meant when you admitted to be angry. And he was also certain he could understand the many yards across the entrance, reflecting on your troubled feelings and saturated mind. 
You were at the tip of instability, swinging between a fragile calmness and total chaos. 
He suffered from that as well for many years yet until this very moment he could see it with his own eyes that you were going through it too. 
You feigned stability and control, gracefully dodging the bullets others shot at you, but in reality, you were running after them once everybody left. Hurting yourself over the things you couldn’t control, looking for the guns that attempted to shoot you and pulling the trigger once more. 
“I am angry too,” Max admits and tightens the grip around your body. “I understand.” 
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to clean the mess I made.” You opt to divert the conversation elsewhere and Max carries on, respecting your decision.
“Well, I don’t think it’s fair for you to suffer through this alone so let me help, will you?” Your grip loosens around his torso, signaling the end of your spontaneous hug and as you separate from each other, Max looks at the little mess you’ve caused. “I will pick up the pieces. You can get us something to drink. Maybe then we can talk, if you want.” 
“Would you like some tea?” Your big eyes observe him timidly. The pinkish hue of your cheeks and the tip of your nose pales in comparison to the darkness of your eye bags. You look exhausted. 
“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.” 
He hates tea, but this isn’t a moment to remind you of that simple fact. 
“And…” You trail off, looking elsewhere for a fraction of a second. “What if I don’t want to talk?”
“We can stay in silence or rest a bit before your friends come,” Max suggests. “Do you want that?” 
“Yes, please.” 
He nods, putting an end to the conversation and you move away from the scene, carefully avoiding the yards close to you while Max searches everywhere for the correct point to begin his cleaning duties. 
Maybe two minutes pass by in total silence before the dutch man hears your voice again, softly coming from the oval entrance to the kitchen. 
“Emi?” He nearly misses the name you imply to call for him and in that moment, he notices you’ve called him that before as well. 
“Yes, dear?” Max replies stopping his movements. 
“Thank you.” 
Max Emilian smiles, basking on the sweet smile you return to him as soon as your eyes meet each other. 
He’s relieved to be here, secretly thanking his car for failing so unexpectedly during practice.
“Nothing to thank me for. I’m here whenever you need me.”
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— taglist #2 in the reblogs.
A / N : After many many days of not posting i'm back here hello! Sorry for the delay, I got sick and was put on bed rest for the past four days so it was difficult for me to write. I hope you enjoy this angsty chapter with some sprinkles of fluff! Let me know your thoughts and see you on the next update <3 — The next update comes with a voting poll for the dynamic of the final chapter of the second act, so stay tuned to participate! xoxo
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bitethehnd · 1 day
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omg i’ve had the biggest brainrot over ur naomi & taylor!reader & rewatching the eras tour i have 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ thoughts
i can imagine reader! having a chat w naomi when they’re ready to make it official and actually tell everyone they’re together (god knows everyone’s figured it out but shh let them have their moment) & reader! asks if they can make it official during the show but doesn’t tell Naomi how,, they’re just like trust me it’ll be good and naomi is like ok !! anything for u !! & during karma reader! sings “karma is my baby on the screen, coming straight home to me!” & they somehow get naomi’s live reaction on the big screen megatron thing of reader fully making it official to everyone mid show and they’re just in AWE
& in the same show when reader! sings “you’re in love” they do a lil speech about how this song was written for someone else completely and after everything that went down, they hated this songs because it brought back so many bad memories (or something) but now they have someone who makes them feel like this song is the reason for existence again and it just cuts to lil naomi sobbing aAAA i truly love that fic so much i still have so many thoughts about it thank u thank u thank u
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⊹ ‧₊˚ ౨ৎ you are in love
pairing : naomi mcpherson x popstar!reader
a/n : ANON I LOVE YOUR BRAIN KISS KISS
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at this point during your eras tour, the two of you are already together. you think you’re all sneaky but literally everyone knows… naomi looks at you like you gave them the moon so it’s quite obvious, but everyone lets you two have your fun!
the first people you told were obviously katie and jo. they both had fake surprised looks on their faces but said the two of you deserved to be happy. then ensue the countless jokes and comments from jo.
the boys were thrilled too! since phoebe had also opened for you, she had taken a guess that you two had a thing for each other and then her suspicions were confirmed. julien fist pumped naomi and lucy gave you a big hug!! you guys are adorable fr.
next came telling the world about the relationship. you two held off for a few months, wanting privacy, but it seemed twitter was already aware of it. everyone had their theories and some were so outrageous that you just wanted to tell everyone yourself.
you told naomi your feelings on the matter and they immediately agreed, no questions asked. they were ready to show you off and not have to hide. you suggested doing it during your next show, and like anon said, naomi is just like “whatever my princess wants, she gets!!! anything for her!!”
you quickly put your plan into motion. you decided your surprise song for the next show would be “you are in love” from 1989. it perfectly described how you felt about naomi. you came up with some ideas for the speech you would give before hand and it went something like this…
“the next song that i’m going to play is one that i haven’t performed in so long. i wrote it about someone who i thought was going to be my forever, but it just didn’t end up that way and it left me with some sad memories. i have never felt the need to play this song since then, but now everything has changed. even if i originally wrote this about someone else, my partner renewed it into something so pure and now has a reason to exist again. i love you.”
the camera doesn’t pan to naomi just yet, since you wanted to build suspense. for dramatic effect, of course. but jo and katie make sure to get their reaction on video. it’s just naomi basically happy crying and laughing with tears under their eyes. even when you guys are a whole stadium apart, the invisible string between you is there.
when it was finally time for the last era of songs, from midnights, you were planning to do a lyric swap in “karma.” the actual lyric was “karma is my girlfriend,” but obviously naomi was not a girl and the song originally wasn’t written about them, you planned to change it to something that made you happier. when the time came to sing “karma,” you looked right into the vip section where naomi was and sang “karma is my baby on the screen, coming straight home to me!” cut to the camera panning to naomi and they’re just giddy, laughing and crying all at the same time. when you told them you were going to make it official, this is definitely not how they imagined it, but they weren’t complaining.
you just wanted to show the world your love for them and honestly didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. the two of you just existed in your own little bubble, feeling like you were just singing to them.
after the show was over and naomi practically sprinted backstage, their beaming smile lit up the room as they saw you. they pulled you in for a fierce hug and pressed gentle kisses to your forehead.
“that was the sweetest thing in the entire world, baby. i love you so much.”
“so you liked it? it wasn’t too much?”
“never. that was, like, magical. can’t believe you did all that for me.”
“i’d do anything for you, nom.”
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© bitethehnd
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i got a camera!!
#the bin#from my dad. i dont like seeing him i hate him but free camera#apparently its a $1000 camera but he got it for free i assume. he gets a lot of stuff oike tnis for free#i KNOW he didnt pay that for it. well doenst matter. free camera. im excited to take pictures with it and learn how to use it#i dont like loving where i live rigjt now (Minnesota) but i wanna take some pictures before i move away#i miss ohio. i think it was prettier but thats just my preference. Minnesota is ok. the loon is my favorite bird and has been since before i#moved here. i didnt know it was the state bird until afyer i lived here over a year. its a good bird. love it a lot#qnd the anow here is way sparklier than in ohio. its like someone is pouring glitter from the sky. its really beautiful#but thise r the only 2 good things abt it. the area i live in sucks. ive heard other areas are nice and the people are nicer#its too cold for me though. last winter was rough and im not looking forward to this year any more. well. it is what it is#i will try to take pictures while im here. ive always been interested in photography but cameras r so expensive n my phone camera is#awful so i havent got into it. now i have a camera so i have no excuse. maybe i will post some of my pictures#but i dont wanna show what area of Minnesota i love in so i probably will not unless im far enough away from the area i live in#its actually way easy to figure out exactly where a pocture was taken with even some nondescript buildings around so#but i wanna go farther away anyway so when i do that ill try to take some pictures
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wcters · 11 days
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𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 𝗚𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧
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pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader
word count: 2.6k
summary: y/n joins the triplets on the cut the camera podcast to talk about having a boyfriend who’s a triplet, social media, and hobby’s
warnings: dirty/sexual jokes, established relationship, swearing, sexual innuendos, not a warning but thank you @whoetoshaw for some inspiration. please check her out! i will probably make another one 🤍
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“Good morning campers, welcome back to the cut the camera podcast. It’s your hosts Nick Sturniolo,” Nick introduced, “Matt Sturniolo,” Matt told the camera, “and Chris Sturniolo.” The boys finished. “And we have a special guest if you couldn’t hear her laughing at us, Matt’s girlfriend, Y/n!” Nick told the camera as it showed you in your seat, smile on your face as you waved. “Happy to be here.” You spoke to the camera. It then panned to Matt sitting his his seat with his cheeks turning pink. “We had to beg her for so long to feature in one of these.” Chris laughed, shifting his hat as he spoke into the mic. “We had to buy her a box of Diet Coke.” He deadpanned. You smiled in response.
“Okay, to be fair, I’m not a social media person. I think the only social media I have and use a lot is Instagram and Facebook.” The three boys laughed as you mentioned Facebook. “It’s for family members! My grandparents have a hard time figuring out social media apps. But either way, have Tiktok but don’t even remember the last time I posted on there.” You tried to think but nothing was popping up. “That brings me into the first question,” Chris interrupts you, “what’s it like dating an “influencer” as some would call us while you just ━━ quite recently actually ━━ made your accounts public?”
“━━ before you speak,” Nick interrupted as Chris gave him an annoyed look and Matt groaned. “Here he goes.” Matt whispered into the mic. “I was just going to say she should introduce herself!” He yelled in defense as he put his hands up. “Oh shit, true.” Chris gestured to you. “Hello everyone, I am Y/n and I am a friend of the triplets and Matt’s girlfriend.” You started to introduce. “I like how she said a friend of the triplets and not just Matt’s girlfriend.” Nick laughed. “You know it babe.” You replied, laughing in your seat. “Anyway, I am nineteen. I am from Canada, and moved to LA around two ━━ three years ago? Yeah. Sorry, what was the question before?” “See, Chris? She has manners. You need to learn some.” Nick teased. “Shut the fuck up. The question was what’s it like to date an influencer?” Chris asked. Matt turned his head toward you.
“I’m not really sure what it’s like to not date an influencer since Matt was like . . . my first “real boyfriend” you could say, but I would assume it’s similar to a relationship with a non-influencer. You do the same things: dates, sleepovers, movies, etc. But he’s away sometimes,” you shrug, “when you guys went on tour, Matt was away a lot and we had to do long distance for a bit. I think it was hard for both of us ━━”
“━━ more for me.”
“━━ but it’s what happens when you date someone as famous as you guys are. I know what I was getting into, same with the social media part. I knew I would be on camera sometimes, especially because you guys vlog and other things. You guys respected my want to be off camera and I remember, Matt was so worried when we got together because we really liked each other but social media was his job, but I was fine with that! Of course I would be.”
“I was so worried,” Matt breathed out, “like I had mentioned before that I did what I do and she had mentioned that she didn’t want to be online, but when it got serious I didn’t want for this whole thing to be ruined because of what I do, you know?” “Of course,” Nick butted in, “and especially hate that she could’ve gotten ━━ no offense Y/n.” You nodded, “none at all. Completely agree.” “You would’ve felt a little scared, no?” Matt and you nodded. “I didn’t, and don’t, want her to be effected negatively from it. I mean, it’s inevitable really, but still. I couldn’t help it, still can’t, I’m her boyfriend.” “I knew what I was getting into,” you spoke, “it’s what happens in most male celebrity, youtuber fan bases. You guys get hate too sometimes.”
Chris nodded. “I think me and Nick were a bit unsure too. We had known you for awhile and we liked you. We talked to Matt about it too. Just saying like “watch out for hate,” and “support her,” and shit like that. You didn’t need any help at all.” “Like I said, I knew what I was getting into. I have friends that are dating some popular content creators and we have talked about it before. That’s how I know what to experience and how to deal with it. Thank you ━━“ there was a bleep as you said her name “━━ love you to bits.”
“What is it like to be on the podcast?” The youngest boy asked, looking at his phone and then to you. “To be honest? It feels great. I have seen this set from when it was just an idea to it actually happing and it is truly amazing to see what these boys can do.” You we’re honest, these boys had such great ideas and it felt unreal to see them come true. “Matt, you have such a nice girlfriend.” A laugh that sounded more like a giggle came out of Matt’s mouth. “Thanks. She is.” He replied, moving the mic. There was laughing around the table.
“This would’ve been super awkward if you were like “no, I hate her!”” You joked. Nick put his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know what I would do if that actually happened.” “Well good thing I’m not going to say that.” Matt spoke, looking at his girlfriend. “Thanks. What a man everyone,” you clapped your hands, “get yourself someone like this guy over here.” You pointed to him.
“Yes!” Nick yelled, clapping too. “And, there’s two other brothers . . . but one is gay. He is still available? Boys? Hit that line. And Chris’s too,” you pointed to the long-haired brother, “it’s too often he tries to get into the bed with me and Matt because he hates sleeping alone.” You whispered into the mic. The camera moved to Matt nodding and then to Chris as he started to protest. “No! You’re just over too often. Stop hogging my brother. I slept with him first ━━ wait!” He puts his hands up. You moved your hand over you mouth in shock as Matt leaned his head against the table and Nick copied your movement. “Not like that! I meant we,” pointing to Matt, him, and Nick, “had sleepovers before you did.” “Bitch, don’t bring me into this.” Nick chimed in. “Real.” You agreed.
“Let’s just move on!” Your boyfriend suggested as he lifted his arms up. “What is like dating a triplet?” He asked. “It’s not that much from dating a regular guy, apart from the fact that either one of these kids is following him everywhere ━━ mostly Chris ━━“ which earned a “what?” from the guy “━━ and sometimes I’ll like . . . steal a sweater or some sweats or something from Matt and then I’ll just be on the couch and one of the boys will come in and be like “I’ve been looking for that” and it gets confusing.” You laughed. “But besides some of those confusions, it’s like dating a guy and having two best friends that come with him.” “A package deal.” Nick agrees. You snapped your fingers at him, “yes. Exactly like that. And it’s so fun. It can get annoying, but what’s any kind of relationship if you don’t get annoyed?” “Yeah guys. I may be annoying, but you still like me.” Chris jumped in. “Yeah, sometimes I doubt that.” “Me too.” The other brothers agreed. “That was so inspiring.” Nick said. “Thank you.” You did a fake bow in your seat.
“You also help keep the house clean since you practically live over at our house.” Matt added. “I do, I do. I literally have clothes and my skincare shit at you house. And a toothbrush ━━”
“━━ And a toothbrush.” Matt said at the same time. “It’s convient for sleepovers!” Nick explained. “And also because you do just live here. There have been so many times where I’ve knocked on Matt’s door and then opened it and Matt’s just playing games while you’re chilling in his bed.” You nodded, shrugging. It was true. “Dude ━━ I have gone to wake up Matt for the day and I won’t even notice she’s there until I hear her move or some shit cause she’s all up under the blankets. Surprised you’re even under the blankets with Mr. Blanket stealer over here.” Chris points to Matt as Nick nodded his head and you laughed.
“I just tug em’ back. Or he just grabs me. This kid . . . I swear it’s like I’m never close enough.” “I just run hot you’re always cold.” Matt retaliated. “You run hot because you steal all the blankets!” Nick yelled. “I feel sorry for Chris every time you guys have to share a bed.” “Do you really though?” The boy in question asked. “. . . Not really, no. I like my blankets. Maybe you can teach him to share Y/n.” “I will certainly try.”
“And she can teach you fuckers to clean,” Matt retorted, “every time I go into your room it’s like I am walking through a morgue.” After he finished there was a “hey!” from Chris and a “that’s not true!” from Nick. “Keep me out of this.” You held your hands up in defense. “I will clean what I need to.” “She’s like a second mom.” Chris compared. “Don’t say that. That’s weird.” Matt muttered into the mic. “Yeah, this is like the same argument as the use of mommy and daddy.” Nick agreed. “Now, you just made it weird,” Chris pointed at Nick. “How about we move on so we can stop this from getting even weirder.” Matt clapped his hands.
“Yes. Next question. You watch our videos I would assume?” Nick asked. “Of course, who would I be if I didn’t?” You replied. “Period.” Chris replied. Nick gave him a side eye, “anyway . . . How do you feel that people are writing fan fiction about your boyfriend?” You covered your mouth with your hand. “What?” Matt asked, looking scared. “You guys are going to hate me for this.” You spoke. “You didn’t make one about Matt did you?” Chris joked. “No! I wasn’t that weird. But a canon event in every girls childhood ━━ and I mean every single one - was writing or at least reading fan fiction. Brittany Broski is so real for talking about it. Me? It was the guy who played in Doctor Who. The 2000s one.” “David Tennant?” “Yes. I was an avid Wattpad user. You could catch me on there every fucking day dude. I think I still have my account.”
A scream filled the room as everyone looked at Nick. “We have to find it and go through it. But . . . I still can’t believe you used Wattpad.” “Dude, ask any mentally unstable female girl and I promise you, she will tell you she did. I don’t use it anymore, but I was obsessed.” “Are the videos awkward to you because you used to write shit or no?” Chris jumped in. “A little bit. I mean, it must feel weird getting fan fiction written about anyone. But I think because I’ve been in that spot and writing it that I understand a bit more,” you admitted, “the videos are great ━━ like every video of yours is - and it’s so funny to see your reaction.” “We need to bring you sometime if you’re up for it.” Matt suggested. “Maybe?” You shrugged, dragging the word out. “It would be super funny.” Nick commented. “Oh for sure, but I don’t know if I’m ready to go back to that phase in my life.” You grimaced.
“Hashtag trauma.” Chris responded. “Please never say that again,” Nick murmured. Matt agreed with a “that was so cringey.” “Really though,” you laughed, “you get it.” Chris got up from his seat and high-fived you. “Have you guys ever read fan fiction outside of filming?” “Oh, switcharoo question. I mean, I have to check and find stories and make sure we don’t get demonetized. I don’t know about these two.” Nick answered first. “I haven’t, but I find it weird that Matt has wattpad downloaded . . . And that he asked people to send some to him.” Chris spoke. “It’s not like that!” Matt yelled, putting his face in his shirt. “Matt, honey. It’s fine.” You joked. “Oh my god.” His voice was muffled from the sweatshirt.
“Is that how you got into reading like . . . Actual books?” Nick asked you. “Not really. I’ve been a reader since I learned to read, but it probably had some effect on my reading.” You responded. “I read a lot now, too. Like if you guys are filming I’ll just hangout im Matt’s room or something and read.” “She’s always reading.” Matt said into the mic. “No actually. We could be getting picked up by Matt and this kid is in the passenger seat with a book in her hand. How can you even read in the car?” Chris blurted. “I actually don’t get car sick. I think I’ve been car sick once. I sleep in the car too. And I have the best naps in the car. It’s just something puts me to sleep. I’m not sure what.” You explain. “But yeah, I do read a good amount. I’ve got Matt to read a little too. Chris would you ever read?” “Probably not,” he answered,” just have too much going on. And no offence, but if I have time off I’m not going to sit down and read. There’s so many other things I could do.” You nodded your head, “to each their own.” “I’ll like nap or something. I feel like we’re all avid nappers.” Chris asked.
“No, totally. I love napping.” Matt answered. “Me too.” Nick agreed. “I’ll only get up if I have to.” “I’ll only get up if Y/n gets up or if Chris wakes me up. There’s not a lot that will get me up. Except if I need to pee or we have something that day.” Matt added on. “It’s true,” you nodded, “he will not let me go. And if I get up, he will get up and pull me to the couch if I’m not already on it and just lay there.” Your boyfriend nodded. “Hey, at least you have a personal pillow.” Chris added on. You nodded again. “You should by lucky? You know how many girls would want Chris to do that?” The blonde boy continued. Chris made a weird face. “Hey guys, make a fan fiction about it.” Matt looked at the camera. “No!” Chris yelled, slapping Matt’s finger that was pointing to the camera. “I’m just kidding, I don’t really care as long as they’re not super weird and gross.” “Cheers to that.” Nick agreed.
“On this note, I think we should wrap it up.” Nick announced. “That was today’s episode, it was amazing. Everyone thank Y/n for coming on the podcast.” Chris faced you, speaking into the mic. “It was an absolute pleasure. I would love to come back if you would have me.” You thanked them. “Of course. We won’t let you leave.” The blonde boy joked. “Just kidding, but still, thank you for coming on and we will see you guys next time. Bye!” Everyone waved to the different cameras before it showed you in your seat with Matt sitting next to you. “He’s secretly clingy.” You said before the camera shut off.
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vanteguccir · 16 days
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Baking blind, deaf and mute | Chris Sturniolo
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Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N participates in the Baking Blind, Deaf and Mute video, but things don't go as planned.
Warning: Begin of a panic attack, anxiety.
Requested?: Yes, @ecliphttlunar
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
"Alright guys, it's been almost a year since the last time we filmed one of these, I think..." Nick began, his body appearing in the camera frame, stopping next to Matt.
"Yeah, and today we have a special guest-" Matt was interrupted by Nick, who swallowed all the rest of his energy drink, stumbling back as he shook his head hard, feeling the burn go down his throat.
"Like she doesn't appear in almost every video." Chris ignored Nick's reaction, momentarily pointing to his girlfriend next to him.
A laugh escaped his throat, followed by a dramatic sound of pain as he received a slap from Y/N as a response, who rolled her eyes at him, crossing her arms and looking at the camera.
"They love me more than they love you guys at this point." She murmured, pointing at the camera with her chin, blowing an air kiss towards it.
"Anyways!" Nick shouted, casting a scolding glance from the corner of his eye at Chris and Y/N, focusing his eyes on the lens. "Today we're going to do the baking blind, deaf and mute challenge, and we have a guest with us, Y/N!" He raised his left hand, pointing it towards the girl momentarily, who smiled big and waved.
"Exactly, and since there will be four of us, instead of three, we will repeat one position. Y/N will be blind with Matt, while I will be mute and Nick will be deaf." Chris explained, wrapping his left arm around his girl's shoulder, pulling her close and massaging her biceps slightly, sealing his lips over her head momentarily.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
"Okay, today we're going to cook a carrot cake with chocolate frosting since it's our guest's favorite." Nick spoke, his voice coming out louder than normal since his ears were covered by the headphones where music was coming out at full volume.
Y/N nodded, resting her hands on the table, unable to see exactly where she was, her eyes already covered by Chris's red bandana.
"Y/N doesn't eat ready cake mixture, so we're going to make it from scratch!" Matt added, his back resting on the counter next to the stove.
His arms were crossed, and his head was turned in the direction he thought the camera was.
"Let's begin!"
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
"Can someone preheat the oven, please?" Y/N asked, her head turned to the side where she heard footsteps.
A tired sigh escaped her nose when she received no response. The girl moved slowly, using her raised arms for support, feeling wherever she went.
Sudden hands on her waist made her jump in fright, relief coursing through her veins as she quickly recognized Chris's touch. The boy holds her tightly, guiding her slowly through the kitchen, until they reach the stove.
Chris lightly held her wrist, guiding her hand to the button to turn on the oven, waiting for her to do so before letting go of her hand, moving away slightly.
"What is happening? Are you still here?" Matt's voice cut through the air, his figure doing a 360° turn as he tried to understand where the others were.
"In here, Matt." Y/N replied as she walked back to the table, feeling around until she found the ingredients already separated.
The girl reached for the carrots, feeling them to check if they were peeled. They weren't.
"Chris, can you peel it for me, please?" The girl asked loudly, lifting her chin in the air so her voice could echo better.
Footsteps approached, and soon, the carrots were taken from her hands, the sound of a knife hitting the cutting board filling her ears.
The sound of screams filled the kitchen, Nick singing the songs he was listening to as loud as possible, probably dancing around the space, checking every now and then if the others were making the recipe correctly, despite Y/N and Chris knowing it by heart.
"Nick, can you shut up?" Matt asked loudly, turning in the direction where his brother's voice came from.
Nick noticed Matt trying to talk to him, looking back while furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
"What?" He screamed.
Y/N, who was blindly measuring the correct amount of oil using a measuring cup, jumped in place in fright by the sudden loud sound. Her hand holding the oil shook slightly from the movement, spilling some of the contents onto her other hand and the table.
Her shoulders slumped, but she just kept going, knowing that there was nothing she could do at that moment other than fulfill her task.
After measuring the oil and flour as correctly as possible, the girl felt the table on her right side in search of the cut carrots, no longer feeling Chris' presence there.
Her hands ran across the wooden surface, grabbing the first thing she found in the belief that it was the vegetables, but instead, it was a knife.
A wince escaped her lips, feeling a sharp burning sensation spread from her right index finger to her hand. She had cut herself.
"Can I have a paper towel?" Y/N asked in a low tone, her voice coming out choppy from the pain she felt. "Hey, somebody, a paper towel. Please?"
No one answered her, Matt and Nick's arguing voices only growing louder and louder.
The girl took a deep breath, wiping her finger on her t-shirt, feeling pain and disgust at the same time at the thought of cleaning a wound on a fabric that wasn't as clean as something specific for hygiene.
Her attention returned to the things in front of herself. Y/N replayed her last steps in her mind, making sure she did everything right.
With that, her hand rescued the fuê that she knew was on her left side and began to mix all the ingredients in the ceramic bowl carefully, despite the pain in her hand.
She felt her senses were more heightened than normal, perhaps because her eyes were covered, which made her hear the different steps of each of the triplets, their voices, and in which direction they were going.
But at that moment, her attention was so focused on the mixture that she forgot to pay attention to the three boys.
"Matt, I'm not listening to anything you're saying!" Nick shouted, his tone full of sarcasm.
"I'm just asking you to stop-"
"Don't touch me, Chris!"
"Nick, stop doing that-"
"Stop talking, I can't hear you-"
The impact came suddenly against Y/N's back, causing her to hit her belly on the corner of the table and, consequently, pushing the mixture forward due to the impact. She was certain that everything had been spilled onto the wooden surface when she heard a loud gasp coming from Matt.
Y/N's lips trembled before the tears even came. She felt her eyes burning behind her bandana while her cheeks and chest ached with anguish.
"Y/N?" Chris's voice came out softly, his hands quickly ripping the bandana from his mouth, approaching his girl, ignoring the guilty looks from Nick and Matt as they both removed their respective bandana and headphones.
Y/N didn't respond, resting her hands on the table and lowering her head, feeling the fabric over her eyes getting damp little by little.
"Baby?" Chris whispered, slowly untying the knot on the bandana behind her head, being careful not to pull out any hair. The last thing he wanted was to cause pain on his girlfriend.
He felt his heart sink at the sight of her eyes closed tightly and her eyelashes damp against her pink cheeks. His own eyes quickly caught her chest rising and falling faster than normal in agitation.
Chris moved closer to her, positioning his hands on both of his girl's hips, lightly squeezing the covered skin in an attempt to ground her.
"Hey, hey, pretty girl, it's okay. Deep breaths, hm?" The brunette whispered close to her ear, casting a quick look behind his shoulder at his brothers, silently asking them to move away. "That's right, just like that. You got it, my love."
Y/N sucked in air through her nose, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it through her mouth.
After repeating the process a few times, she could finally feel her heart calm down and the anguish slowly disappear. Y/N opened her eyes slowly, blinking a few times to remove the remnants of tears.
"There's my pretty girl. Are you with me, baby?" Chris smiled kindly, his eyes shining as he looked at Y/N, waiting for her answer.
"Uhum, I am good. Thank you, baby." Her voice came out still a whisper, but in a healthier tone. "Can we continue? I really want to-"
"Wait, is that blood? Baby, are you hurt?" Chris noticed the reddish tone on her right hand, interrupting her sentence and holding her hand delicately with both of his, analyzing the small cut.
"Yeah, with that knife. It was an accident, but it's not hurting anymore." The girl tried to assure him, stroking his hands with her thumb slowly.
"Can we at least clean it? Before we continue." He asked, his tone full of hope while his eyes run through her face, trying to find any trace of pain.
"Okay." Y/N nodded, whispering with a small smile decorating her face.
The boy guided her to the sink, turning on the tap to cold water and slowly bringing her hand closer to the jet, letting the water hit the injured skin slowly, so that it didn't make her feel any more pain.
A wince escaped Y/N's throat when she felt the contact, suppressing the urge to pull her hand back.
"I know, baby. I know, I'm sorry." Chris whispered, his lips pressed against the side of her head. His free hand made small circles on her back, trying to reflect calm to her.
After a few seconds, Chris finally turned off the tap again, drying his own hand before rescuing a few sheets of paper towels. He wiped Y/N's sensitive skin slowly, wrapping her finger around a clean sheet.
"All done, honey."
"Thank you." She smiled, sealing her lips on his jaw slightly. "Can we bake now?" She asked innocently, looking at Matt and Nick, who were still watching them with guilty eyes.
Chris let out a low chuckle at her comment, waving his brothers closer again.
"Are you good, girl?" Nick asked as he approached Y/N, stroking her left shoulder lightly, his eyebrows furrowed.
"I am good, Nick. I promise." She smiled big at her best friend, hugging him sideways and laying her head on his right shoulder for a few seconds before stepping away again.
"Okay then, let's bake a cake!" Matt smiled at the camera, grabbing the nearest roll of paper towels, ready to clean up the mess before they could start baking again.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
Extra - comments:
"omg I would die on Y/N's place, all this was so overwhelming 😭"
"chris is such a good boyfriend and you can see it in here, the way he helps her at the beginning? bf goals 😫😫😫"
"chris and Y/N are so beautiful together 🥺"
"the way chris was super worried about Y/N so he ripped off his bandana too quickly to help her 😔😔😔"
"I want what they have so bad"
"nick and matt feeling guilty and then worrying about her was so cute!!"
"them baking it from the beginning again only because Y/N wanted to eat that cake is so thoughtful 😭"
༻✦༺  ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
My asks are always open. Feel free to send requests or anything at all 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
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strawb3rrystar · 1 month
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Hazbin Hotel characters longing for you.
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Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader
Warnings: Implied breakup, Stalking, Just all around angst
Word count: 600
✰Masterlist
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Charlie will hangout with her friends to get your mind off you. This strategy works for a little while, until she starts to notice small bits of your personality in them. All the little things pile up and it brings down her mood, causing her stay away from her friends as to not get reminded.
"Sorry guys, can't hangout today, not feeling the greatest."
Vaggie will bottle up all her emotions and avoid everyone. But, being all alone causes her to start thinking about you more. All the happy memories you created together. Laughs and smiles shared. Vulnerable venting sessions that ended in cuddles. She won't be able to scrape you from her mind and end up crying angry tears.
"Why... after everything we've been through! Why.. why did you leave me..?"
Angel Dust will probably be too distracted with work to think about you. But of course he misses you and wishes to have you back. If he ever does get time to just sit and think about you, his insecurities will get the best of him and he'll think your better off without him.
"Maybe.. they're better off. More happier without me.."
Husk will drown himself in alcohol like he always does. Silently doing his job. It wasn't much of a change to most of the others. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'll see your figure. He shivers every time he realizes you're not actually there.
"Must be the alcohol makin' me see shit..."
Sir Pentious will lay awake at night thinking about you. It doesn't help that his eggs will keep bringing stuff up about you. He doesn't want to think about you, but he just can't get you out of his head. He wishes to see you one last time before he lets you go.
"I haven't asked for much. Please, just let me see them again."
Alastor will convince himself that he was perfectly able to go on with his afterlife before he met you, so he can definitely do it after you left. Although, that's a lie, because he misses your presence everyday. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he goes over your daily schedule before you left in his head and goes to the places you used to frequent.
"I am perfectly capable all on my own."
Lucifer will dream about you every night after you leave. He'll dream about all the good times you had together. Your smile and your laugh. His dreams are so realistic that when he wakes up it takes him a minute to remember you left.
"Right.. they left.. but, my dream was so.. real.."
Adam will kinda stalk you, justifying it as protection. Whenever he sees you hanging out with another angel, though, envy will fill his veins. Even if he knows it's one of your friends, he'll still get jealous.
"You were supposed to hangout with me, not this fucking nobody."
Vox will also very much stalk you with his cameras. Nervously searching his screens whenever you leave your house. He just wants to know where you are, and that you're safe.
"My sweet would never have to worry about their safety again."
Valentino will check your past messages 50 times a day. He's just itching to text you, but if he does you might block him, and then he'll lose your conversations forever. He might throw his phone in frustration.
"God fucking damn it!"
Velvette will regularly check your social media for any updates from you. If you do post something new, expect her to be one of the first to like it.
"@Velvvette liked your post."
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Star's notes -> I've binged Hazbin Hotel like 3 times now OMG
(Requests are open!)
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Taglist -> Join the taglist
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Text
People Watching - Lando Norris
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⋗ Pairing - Lando Norris x Reader
⋗ Summary - You've never been in love, at least you don't think you have
⋗ Word count - 2k words, fluff, [Requested by Anon]
⋗ Masterlist - requests are open, this was just a short cute idea I had on my mind after getting a request. Feedback and reblogs are appreciated
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You’re enjoying a nice lunch with Lando. He has a lot of things to be doing after, but for now. It’s just the two of you, a set of good friends. Your eyes wander over his face, a soft look of concentration is on his face as he tries to take pictures of you and your lunch. The way his lips are slightly strained, as he keeps fiddling with his camera. Then he rearranges your glasses, and then he puts them back, before rearranging them once more. 
“Do you need help?” You ask, a small laugh bubbling in your throat, as he can’t seem to get the shot he wants.
“No no, just keep sitting there, you look good!” He chirps up, quickly dismissing the thought of you moving from the pose he instructed you into. 
Your laugh finally makes it way past your lips, at the absurdity of the scene, your eyes close as the flash goes off once more. You don’t notice how Lando mutters, got it, nor how he takes a few more just for his enjoyment. 
“Time to dig in.” Lando scrambles to sit down and stuffs his mouth with his slightly cold food. 
You stick a bit to your food, but your gaze falls out onto the crowd of people navigating outside. So many couples are spread across the grid as all the fans gather to get a closer look at the cars. Despite your perspective from above, the thing most glaring to you seems to be all the hands clasped into others. 
“How long do you think they’ve been together?” 
“What?” Lando looks up from his plate of food, trying to follow your gaze, but he gets lost in the crowd of people immediately, not at all being able to figure out where your eyes are looking. 
“The elderly couple.” You say, as though it’s the most obvious thing, as though there aren’t multiple, as though you and Lando didn’t call Max Verstappen and his girlfriend an elderly couple last weekend, despite Max barely being 2.5 years older than Lando and less than 2 years older than you. 
“Three days.” Lando says, voice full of conviction, “They actually met this Tuesday and have had the wildest sex for 3 days straight, before any of their children realise that their parents are missing from the nursery home.” 
You snort loudly, accidentally getting soda into your nose, making Lando laugh with you, as you struggle to breathe. 
After recovering from your soda mishap, you wipe your nose with a napkin, still chuckling. Lando grins mischievously, taking a sip of his drink as he watches you with amusement.
“Smooth move, right?” he teases, referring to his imaginative tale about the elderly couple. “I mean, who wouldn't want a love story like that? Beats the usual 'met in high school and got married' scenario.”
You both share another round of laughter, the casual banter making the lunch even more enjoyable.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” You sigh wistfully as you glance down at the crowd of people once more. “Not seriously. I mean, I’ve had a fling here and there, and a few you don’t know about.”
“Ouch.” Lando mocks being hurt, as he throws a piece of lettuce in your direction. Missing you completely. He’s an excellent driver, but a terrible thrower. You’re suddenly elated that he never became a handball athlete or a basketball player. 
“I just mean, I’ve never had that big grand love moment, you know. Nobody has ever done any big gestures, I’ve never had fireworks go off during a kiss. Never pictured that American suburban picket fence dream, you know?” You rattle off as Lando leans his head to the side. You can see the grin on his face before the words leave his mouth. 
“And here I thought you loved me,” he throws another piece of lettuce in your direction. It lands on your plate, and you cock an eyebrow at him, very unimpressed. “I don’t think I know anyone else that would get up at 3 am just to make the world's worst pancakes, all because it’s some pancake holiday, and I had to be out of the door at 5 am.”
The memory of that early morning springs vividly to your mind, and you can't help but chuckle at the recollection.
The night before Pancake Day, you meticulously planned your pancake surprise for Lando. You envisioned a perfect morning: the smell of freshly made pancakes wafting through the air, the joy on Lando's face as he discovered the delightful breakfast you had prepared just for him. However, the universe had other plans.
At 3 am, you tiptoed into the kitchen, trying your best to be as quiet as a ninja. Armed with a box of pancake mix, a whisk, and an optimistic spirit, you were ready to conquer the culinary world for the sake of surprising your friend.
The kitchen was dimly lit, and you moved with caution, not wanting to wake anyone up. As you began mixing the ingredients, you felt a surge of determination. This was going to be the breakfast surprise of the century. You even hummed a little tune as you worked, believing that love and effort could conquer any culinary challenge.
However, in your sleepy stupor, you made a crucial mistake. The sugar and salt containers looked eerily similar in the low light, and without double-checking, you confidently poured what you thought was sugar into the mix. Little did you know, you had just set the stage for a disastrous flavour profile.
Undeterred, you moved on, mistakenly grabbing the baking powder instead of the baking soda. As you mixed the concoction, the batter started to take on an unusual texture, but you pressed on, convinced that your culinary masterpiece was just a few flips away.
With the batter ready, you heated the pan and poured the first pancake, envisioning its perfect golden-brown finish. However, the sizzle that followed was more like a hiss, and the kitchen started to fill with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to fan away the smoke, hoping that the burnt scent wouldn't reach Lando's bedroom.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans. As the smoke thickened, a piercing sound echoed through the apartment – the unmistakable wail of the smoke detector. Panic set in, and you rushed to open windows, waving a towel at the alarm, and desperately trying to save the surprise.
Meanwhile, Lando stirred in his sleep, disturbed by the cacophony of the smoke detector. He stumbled out of his bedroom, bleary-eyed and disoriented, only to find you amid your culinary chaos, smoke billowing around you.
“Ah, Pancake Day,” you say with a grin. “I thought it would be a fantastic idea to surprise you with a breakfast feast before your busy day. On the other hand, I gave you a free day off from having to sit in on a bunch of meetings.”
“Yeah, because my house nearly burnt down, and a bunch of firefighters showed up.” Lando waves his fork at you. “I doubt a lot of other people would have done that.”
“Tried to burn down your flat?” You mock him, as you flick the piece of lettuce back to his plate. 
He laughs, shaking his head. You’re missing his point, but he’s also not attempting to make it clearer for you. 
“What about when I stay up with you on the phone, because a sale is starting past midnight, but you’re barely holding it together and it’s not even 10 pm? Isn’t that an act of love?” He asks, but he leaves no room for you to answer his question as he goes back to eating. 
Lando can’t see the storm that’s slowly brewing behind your eyes, as you go over memories of your friendship. All the small things you do for each other. All the time you spend together. 
As the memories flood your mind, you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. The snippets of shared moments and small gestures between you and Lando become a cherished montage.
There's the time when he surprised you with a playlist of your favourite songs on a day when you were feeling down, the carefully curated mix capturing the essence of your friendship. You remember the genuine joy on his face as he handed over the playlist, completely aware of how much music meant to you.
Then, there are the instances when you stayed up late into the night, listening to his racing stories and sharing in his victories and disappointments. You recall the laughter and camaraderie that transcended the distance, making those late-night conversations a treasured part of your connection.
Lando smirks mischievously as he eyes the last bite of your dessert.
"Mind if I grab that last piece? You know I need the extra energy for my thrilling life as a driver."
You narrow your eyes at him, holding the fork protectively. "Oh, please. The only thrill you get is trying to beat me at Mario Kart."
He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I'll have you know that being a Mario Kart champion requires skill and precision. It's practically a training regimen for the racetrack."
You scoff, taking a deliberate bite of the dessert. "Skill and precision? Last time I checked, you kept getting stuck in the void on Rainbow Road."
"That was a strategic move. I needed a better view of the stars," he replies with a grin, trying to swipe the fork again.
You playfully slap his hand away. "Nice try, but you're not getting this last piece. I already had to fight off your trainer once this month, because you keep stealing my food."
Lando feigns offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Are you saying I don't have the physique of a finely tuned athlete?"
"I'm saying you have the physique of someone who eats all the desserts that aren’t meant for finely-tuned athletes," you retort, 
He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. "Well, at least I can burn it off on the track. What's your excuse?"
You raise an eyebrow. "I burn calories, dodging your attempts to steal my food. It's a full-body workout, really."
"Fair enough. But mark my words, next time we play Mario Kart, you won't stand a chance." Lando laughs, shaking his head. 
"Bring it on, slowpoke. I'll be waiting with banana peels and blue shells," you challenge, finishing the dessert triumphantly, savouring the last bite right in front of him. Silence falls as he starts typing on his phone, and your mind gets distracted by what he said earlier.
As Lando mentioned, the nights when he stood by you during stressful sales and business endeavours resurface in your mind. The unwavering support he offered, even when the clock struck midnight and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, painted a picture of love in the small actions.
And of course, there are the countless times when he'd spontaneously pop by with your favourite snacks or the coffee blend you adore, just because he remembered. Those little acts of consideration spoke volumes.
Lost in these memories, you realise that love comes in various forms. It's not always grand gestures or sweeping romantic moments. It's found in the everyday kindness, the shared laughter, and the unwavering support that defines your friendship with Lando.
A thought strikes you down.
Do you love Lando?
Lando glances up from his phone, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He meets your gaze, and there's a silent understanding between you. In that moment, surrounded by the echoes of shared laughter, failed pancake attempts, and genuine care, you realise that love, in its purest form, is already present in the beautiful tapestry of your friendship with Lando.
An even more terrifying thought hits you as he looks at you with that soft smile and those shiny eyes. 
Does Lando love you?
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⋗ a/n - thank you for reading this, I had a lot of fun writing this small piece, it was just pure fluff and enjoyment
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stariekis · 1 month
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a room for two
🛋️ pairing : 엔하이픈 ot7 + gn!reader . genre : fluff . cw : kisses + skinship
— synopsis : visiting their room for the first time <3
— note : finally i had the inspiration to write smt 🙌🏻 sorry for being inactive lately babies but here you have more ot7 content ! hope you enjoy reading it, as always reposts and feedback are so welcome <3 sending the biggest kiss ^3^
heeseung :
we all know how big of a gamer he is so i know that he would have one of those professional gamer set ups in his room, the one that streamers usually have. and, as he has shown us, he collect figures too so a big shelf full of them is a must in his room. — 'this is were i spend most of my time' he said, sitting on his chair — 'now i know where you are when you don't answer my text am i right?' you answered, joking obviously. he rolled his eyes at your comment, taking you hand on his and making you sit on his lap, his hands now resting on you thighs. you admired his room, he didn't have a lot of decoration but it was so like him. — 'i think i like your room more than mine, i might come over more' you said turning to him. he giggled at your comment, you just made him the happiest boy ever. pecking your lips he answered — 'you are more than welcome doll' giving you another kiss, this one lasting more than the other one you both just shared.
jay :
i've always imagine him having the tidiest room ever. but, because it was the first time sleeping with you, he wanted his room to look ten times better. he cleaned everything up, light up candles and changed his sheets, it needs to be perfect. when you entered his room for the first time you were welcomed by the coziest room you've ever been, the aroma of vanilla flooded your nose —'you like it love?' jay said, standing on the door frame while looking at your curious figure eyeing up his room. — 'hope you do because you will spend a lot of time here from now on' he was now hugging your waist from behind. — 'i like that idea actually' you answer him, receiving a kiss on your neck from him.
jake :
his room was, to your surprise, very organized. you thought that his room would be kind of messy but everything was perfectly placed, not a single dust speck visible. — 'don't be fooled, his room is not always this tidy' you heard jay say as he passed in front of jake's room — 'WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT MAN' he shouted stepping out of his room, hearing jay laugh down the hallway right after. taking his arm and pulling him inside again you hold both of his hands — 'baby it's fine, i wouldn't mind at all' you pecked his pouty lips, he didn't want you to know (even though you would end up discovering it, but not know at least) — 'now that you know my secret i don't have to clean every time, is tiring you know?' grabbing you by the waist he lifted you off the ground and sat the both of you on his bed, spending the rest of the day in each other's embrace.
sunghoon :
he would have the most minimalist room out of them. lots of framed pics perfectly placed on his walls — 'you took all of them?' you said sitting on his desk chair, they were the first thing that caught your attention — 'each and every one of them yeah' a smile plastered on his face as he answered your question, feeling proud that you liked his pics that much. you turned around on his chair now facing him who was sitting in his bed with his camera on his hand — 'wait baby i want to take a picture of you stay there' you smile at the camera, the flash appearing right after —'why do you want a picture of me here hoon?' you asked him, getting up from his chair and making your way towards him, standing in between his open legs. he put his camera aside and grabbed your hips looking up at you — 'because i like to take pictures of pretty views and you are the prettiest one i've ever seen'.
sunoo :
i just know that sunoo would have tons of cute plushies on his bed ): so as soon as you opened the door you were welcomed by a pile of plushie on top of his bed — 'you put them away when you sleep right?' you said, he looked at you with a shocked expression — 'no i don't, how could you say something like that?' your expression changed into a shocked one — 'how are we going to fit in your bed then my love?' you said putting your hand on you hips while looking at his bed. — we will make it work don't worry' he concluded, smiling at you. the next morning you found all of his beloved "friends" on the floor, a reminder to put them aside the next time.
jungwon :
like sunoo i thing he might have tons of plushie on top of his bed, mostly fan gifts. when you entered his room and saw all the cat plushies you smiled turning towards him — 't-they are not mine they are from jay i'm just keeping them here... yeah' you laugh at his reaction, sitting on his bed and taking one on you hand you out it next to you boyfriend's face — 'they look like you thought' he took from your hands the plushie and looked at him with a smile adoring his face. sitting next to you in his bed he looked at you, sighing — 'you didn't believe it right?' you shook your head hearing him laugh as he lay on his bed, you followed right after. — 'but having that many plushie of yourself is a bit self-centered don't you think' you jokingly said, looking at his side profile. he pinched your side while mouthing a 'shut up', hearing you giggling right after.
ni-ki :
he would be a nervous wreck my baby </3 and i know for a fact that he would hide all his plushie in his closet so you won't see them, he thought that you might find it ridiculous. the idea was fine at first but his secret was soon to be discovered when you opened his wardrobe and a tiny duck plushie felt in front of you. he was laying on his bad looking at his phone so he didn't realize what just happened. you made your way towards him with the little duck on your hand — 'this is so cute why was him on your closet' he looked up from his phone but as soon as he made eye contact with the thing on your hands he rolled on his back and hid his face on his hands — 'you weren't supposed to see that babe' laughing at him you sat down on top of him putting the stuffed animal up in his face telling him how similar they were. a long night was ahead for the both of you.
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jarofstyles · 5 months
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Illicit
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Hello my loves! Welcome to the first part of our next mini series we've been working on behind the scenes. The next 2 parts are available immediately on Patreon now, but will be updated here in the next few weeks!
Patreon
Warnings- cheating ( WITH y/n), Asshole Harry, I hate everyone but her, old money/wealth, toxic relationship dynamic, harry is mean and will be mean but not to Y/N lmao, smut
WC- 2.4k
------------
Harry had just finished cleaning himself of cum as his phone rang. 
It was his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’, really, because this wasn’t a real relationship. Not in his mind, anyways. 
“What?” His voice was a sharp whip, already annoyed that the post orgasm bliss had been interrupted by Katherine. Y/N was sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his thigh as fingers traced over his chest, absentminded circles pausing when she heard his attitude already. Her brow raised as he lifted the phone to show the name on the screen, making her nod, lips turning down. That irritated him further. 
“When are you coming to get me?” A voice that pierced his ears made him close his eyes, a dull throb beginning to coast down his head. “Daddy said you’re coming to the event and you were going to pick me up!” 
She was huffing like a child, not wanting to wait. Realistically, he would leave in 30 minutes. Y/N would stay curled up in his bed and wait for him to come home before he took her away to one of his family cabin’s with the rest of their friend group- the ones who knew of him and Y/N. He would spend the entire night trying to think of an excuse to get back to her early, and hoping Katherine wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to come on this ‘business trip’.  
“You live with your father. Could you have not shared a ride?” His tone was icy, something Y/N had never been the recipient of. Thank god, really. As sexy as it was to hear him talk like that to other people, it would definitely make her cry. The man was intense, even he knew that, but not everyone seemed to catch on. 
“Hazza! Come on.” She whined. “He already left and stopped by the office. I’m getting ready now but we have to be early for the photos!” As if that was going to help her cause. It was like the girl had a handbook on how to say the wrong things. 
Harry didn’t do those stupid step and repeats. While Katherine loved being the center of attention, it wasn’t something Harry desired. In actuality, he detested it. He hated paparazzi and had broken 2 cameras from having them in his face without a second glance. No aggression, the picture of calm with pure ice on his face as he did so. If they valued their possessions, they shouldn’t be shoving them in people’s way. That’s what he thought, at least. 
“I’ll be there in an hour. I’m not doing those photos. I don’t care what you do. Now stop calling me when I'm in the middle of things. You know if I don’t answer once, wait for further instruction.” He paused. “And stop calling me that childish nickname. I don’t find it cute or endearing, it’s embarrassing. Goodbye.”
There was a sharp squeak as he hung up the phone and threw it to the ground, rolling Y/N around onto her back and sliding his still sticky cock back inside of her yet again. His annoyance was clear on his face, but it quickly melted away as her arms wrapped around him and her lips covered his face with soft coos, legs pulling him in deeper. Maybe she was a bit sore, maybe his last load was still dripping out of her messy hole, but she knew exactly how the man needed to express himself. 
“I know.” Her silky voice wrapped around his tension and broke it down, slow thrusts inside of her quelling the bubbling irritation in his stomach and turning it into arousal. Y/N could read his stone cold features, knew what his eye twitch meant, the simple movement of a brow or the tiniest down or upturn of lip. This magnificent woman seemed to have him all figured out, and he felt like shit for having to leave and be seen with another woman. “I know, baby. Only a few more months.” Fingers stroked his hair back, guiding his lips to her own.
 He kissed her back, eyes squeezing shut as he allowed himself to lose the anger that had developed by focusing on her. The heat of her cunt wrapped up tight around him, snug. Fitting him perfectly, just as it always had. Y/N was the one he had wanted to take to these things, but he had to wait. For once, his patience wasn’t being practiced. 
The best thing in his life had to be hidden from most people, all because he had taken a stupid deal. He had to go out with the girl who thought she was going to be the next Mrs.Styles, while all he wanted to do was stay nestled in his luxury sheets with Y/N’s soft, supple body to worship. 
It was all his fault, though. 
He had always been ambitious. Ruthless, some may say, but he knew that to a degree he could be cruel to get what he wanted. That was how had been raised. His father had put that right into his head, doing anything for success, power, money… that’s how he ended up in this situation. 
In order to secure the deal of a lifetime, he had agreed to date the man’s daughter. Maybe that sounded cruel, but he knew the intentions from the get go. The man was using his conventionally pretty, high society daughter to try and sweeten the deal- but he knew the true motivation. An attempt to get him into the family and continue having control of the company through his daughter’s supposed relationship with him. If only he had been smarter, if he had done more research. He would know he was sending a sacrificial lamb right into Harry’s awaiting lion jaws. 
See, she had been no stranger to him. Katherine had been after him for quite a while. They were acquainted to a certain degree, running in similar circles and society dinners. The crush, more so the obsession she had with Harry had been no secret to anyone. She claimed to have been in love with him, but Harry knew what it truly was. A lust for money. An infatuation with the power he could secure her. She loved what Harry could represent for her, not only to secure place in the society she had been thrown into as she grew up- but to elevate it. She knew the score, knew what Harry’s ring could mean. 
Katherine knew nothing of his true personality, his likes, his dislikes, his jokes. All of those things were reserved for the tiniest selection of people that she only knew of in passing. His real friends barely touched that superficial, vapid, bitter world. Katherine’s family was new money, looking to secure their place in society. Harry’s wealth went in decades, and it would most likely stay that way. Her vying for his attention didn’t shock him in the slightest. 
The condition of dating Katherine for at least a year had been one he had wanted to scoff at, one he had wanted to tell Mr. Eugene Brant that it would be obvious what it was, but he was smart enough to bite his tongue and agree. Playing stupid was a superpower, letting him think he got one over on Harry and vastly overestimating his daughter’s appeal. One year of being toted around with her overly big smile and his signature scowl on his face hadn’t been an issue. It was something he would merely go through the motions of until the exact year was up and she would be out of his life. 
At least, it hadn’t been until he met Y/N. 
The first woman who had ever captured his heart and soul. Softened the edges of his razor sharp glare.
She hadn’t wanted to give him the time of day once she realized he had been flirting whilst not single. She hadn’t known the deceptive relationship and it hadn’t been her fault, but that didn’t mean Harry was going to leave well enough alone. Even after she had dumped her  Shirley temple on his brand new pure cotton button up. 
If anything, it made him want her more. 
One thing about Harry? He was going to get what he wanted. He would bet anything on it. He was patient, stubborn, and fixated. Checking guest lists to see if she’d be in attendance to parties, see if she was going to hang out with his friend group, he was on the prowl to get her to talk again. 
She had blocked his number already- he didn’t really have a chance to explain. He understood why, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. 
When he finally did have the shot to tell her the relationship was a hoax, she was still doubtful. Dubious looks sent his way as he had pulled them into a private room of the club they were at- one his father owned, funnily enough- his hand holding hers as he sat beside her to plead his case. He was strong and defiant, insisting that it was a means to an end and there was no clause saying he couldn’t date other people- but he would like to get to know her on a real level. 
Against her better judgment, Y/N had fallen for the soft green eyes, the soft looking lips with the sharp cupid's bow and his even sharper tongue. Giving him one date was all he needed to get her on board. 
Fidelity wasn’t a term in the contract he had signed. Stupid, stupid mistake on Brant’s part. A new money, no lawyer to look over, a hasty mistake that would most definitely come to bite him in the ass. Harry hadn’t honored fidelity in the slightest even before he met Y/N. Sex was an outlet for him, as was the gym, things that were pleasurable and stress relieving. He’d only slept with Katherine a handful of times, tapering that off when he saw it made her get more and more attached. She had obviously known Harry had a reputation and while the sex had been alright, there hadn’t been much to his benefit besides the fact that she swallowed his load. 
Surprisingly, it wasn’t that hard to find willing participants. 
Sex with Y/N had completely rocked his world. He thinks, in part, it was because they had a real connection. She made him wait, she made him work his way up to that if he wanted- and made him stop sex with anyone else. As if he had any interest in anyone else. Y/N had taken up the majority of his brain that wasn’t filled with revenue and contracts and contacts and emails. She was his escape. 
The first time they had sex, Harry had fallen for her. There was no question in his mind. Despite being positive that he wouldn’t ever marry for love, Y/N had him questioning that. She had flipped his entire world view upside down, made him weak in the knees. 
Y/N wasn’t in the public eye. Her family had some elite ties, but she was friends with a lot of the quietly wealthy people who didn’t feel the need to showcase it to everyone who looked with tacky labels and monograms. She’d gotten into one of the best schools, gotten her degree and continued her friendship with her roommates and best friends- who just happened to be the girlfriends of some of his best mates. The real ones. There were only a few single members of the groups, and Y/N had been the new blood that had people wondering. Harry had been interested immediately. 
It was about 4 months into their relationship and everything still felt fantastic. Y/N knew more about Harry than anyone else ever could. She was the one with the key to the future, even if she didn’t know the exact depths his feelings went to. 
“I don’t want to go.” His lips parted from hers. “I want to stay here… want to stay buried inside of you, want to feed you your chocolate and lick it from your tongue.” Inhaling his words, she moaned as his hips rolled and he found his home back at her most sensitive spot. He had spent hours finding it, claiming it, and he knew it was his. “Spent all week working… I just want my sweet Angel.”
Noses brushed against one another, Y/N’s bleary eyes opening up to look at his own. Hazy, dark green, hooded. She gently dragged her nails over his shoulder blades, arching up into him and pressed a bit harder on the skin to make him moan in surprise. “You have me, Harry.” She whispered. “You have me now. Leave with my traces on your cock… then come back and take more. We leave tomorrow… and you can hold me how you like. Kiss me. Our friends don’t care. They’ll keep our secret.” Even if it was forbidden, their tight knit group knew exactly what the relationship between Harry and Katherine really was- and none really liked her. They knew Y/N made him happy, softened him up, they’d all been rooting for this. Their safe space. The only ones who knew. 
“She won’t ever have me.” He reassured. “I’m yours. I want your marks on me.” Breathing harder, his thrusts getting a bit more deep. “Make me bleed. C’mon, my sweet girl. Paid for those nails… give me what I want.” Her cunt quivered around his prick, making him smile. She pretended not to like that sort of thing, but she got them done specifically for this. To quench his thirst for pain, for marks. They loved it. “She’ll never have me like this. I’m yours.” He whimpered, the freak of the bed and their noises filling the room. “M’yours, baby. My sweet Angel… stay in my bed and wait for me. I’ll give you everything. Just wait for me.” 
She would. She would wait for him, to be his fully, as long as it took.
1K notes · View notes
vanishingcherry · 7 months
Text
YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz
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pairing: charles leclerc x reader
author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.
masterlist
๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑
The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.
"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.
"And I'm Charles"
"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"
You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.
"Are you ready?"
"Is that the first question?" he retorts.
Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."
"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."
You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.
"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?
He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."
You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"
"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.
"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."
Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.
"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"
He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.
"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."
"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.
"Fine. Uh, AUS23."
"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.
"Then what? I know its not Miami."
"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.
You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"
You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."
He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."
Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."
Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."
"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"
"Left."
"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"
"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."
You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"
He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"
"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"
"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."
"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.
"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.
"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."
He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."
"What was I wearing on our first date?"
You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."
His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"
"A lot of things, Char."
"Is that your final answer, cherie?"
"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."
"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.
"How many kids do I want?"
"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"
"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"
"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."
His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.
"What is one my hidden talents?"
You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.
"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"
The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.
"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."
Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."
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Comments:
charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME
ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me
username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have
doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts
2K notes · View notes
samandcolby-ownme · 2 months
Text
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Summary: Anon request - "could you do a smut based on the reader and colby being good friends, but she secretly likes him, they do the q&a vid where colby admits to being a dom and then something happens with him and the reader after the vid and he like proves what he said?? hope this makes sense"
Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, dominant!Colby, sub!y/n, mentions of alcohol, dirty questions being asked, flirting, use of pet names - daddy being one of them, rough unprotected sex, choking, oral (both), breeding kink?? Cream pie,, hair pulling, scratching, semi forceful actions, filth
Disclaimer: All of the questions expect for the kinks question are made up, along with the answers. Also sorry in advance if this isn’t my best work.
Word count: 4.4k | not edited
╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗
"What's up guys. So as you can see, Sam has changed a little bit." He laughs as he motions to you sitting next to him.
You laugh and shake your head. Colby smiles and looks back into the camera, "No, Sam is actually behind the camera today."
Sam peaks around, showing his face extremely close to the camera, "Hello." He stands back up, sitting back down in the chair and Colby claps his hands together, "Well now that Sam got his three seconds of fame, let me explain why y/n is here."
You cross your leg over the other and lean back as he speaks, "I thought it would be fun to do a little Q and A, but not only on my personal channel, but with one of my closest friends, y/n."
Colby turns to look at you, "Y/n. Don't be rude, say hello." He laughs as you gasp, "Oh, gosh. Sorry." You wave, "Hello everybody."
"Thank you." Colby laughs and reaches down, "So.. you all know mine and Sam's drinking question Q and A stuff, so I figured we'd do the same here." He looks over at you, "You know how this works?"
You nod, "If I don't want to answer the question, I have to take a shot?"
"You catch on quick." Colby chuckles and sets a shot glass on the table, "So.. Sam went through our little twitter thread and picked out some good questions to ask us, from you."
"Now." He glances over at you, "I know I said they're for me, but we can accommodate with having y/n here, right?" He looks over at you and you smile, "Sure can."
You liked Colby. Not as long as you knew him for, but you've started to like him way more than a best friend over the last few months.
You were nervous, because you knew his fans are ruthless when it comes time asking questions about whether or not he likes being tied up, and since the questions are also for you today, what are you going to do? Lie?
"Alright." Colby's words snap you from your thoughts, "Let's get started."
"Okay, first question." Sam clears his throat but you cut him off, "Hold on, Sam. Sorry. Colby you have.." you reach over, pulling a piece of fuzz from his purple colored hair, "Fuzz, or something."
You wiggle your fingers as it floats down to the floor and you look up, "Sorry. Continue. That was just bugging the hell out of me."
Colby smiles, "Thank you."
You nod and Sam clears his throat, "Alright. First question. If you could design your own superhero costume, what would it look like?"
You raise your brows, "Wow I thought these were going to be bad." You laugh and Sam quickly follows up, "Just wait."
"Oh." You laugh and shake your head, "My super hero costume would definitely be something like.. oh gosh. I don't know. Like a mix between Wonder Woman's and Black widow? If that's even possible."
Colby nods, "Nice. Nice. Like a black bodysuit type thing with the tiara that wonder woman wears?"
You look at him, "I think so, maybe not having pants, but longer sleeves definitely and maybe a boy shorts type bottom and of course the tiara."
"Sick." Sam says with a nod, "Colby?"
Colby thinks for a few more seconds, "Definitely something like Spider-Man, maybe not a mask, but something I can wear under a button up and just rip it open and save the day." He points, "Definitely more black and a royal blue color."
You smirk, "Instead of the spider, have a big C and B on your chest in cool letters, that would be sick."
"Yeah, yes!" Colby snaps and points to you, "I like it."
You laugh and look back at Sam, "Alright. Next question."
Sam laughs slightly and you close your eyes, "Oh no."
Sam sighs, "What's an embarrassing thing you've done and never told anyone about?"
"If I never told anyone why would I say it here? Right now when there's a camera pointed at me?" You point to the camera on the tripod and laugh.
"For the goodness of this video?" Sam laughs and you shake your head, "I need a shot, Colbs."
He tilts his head, "Really? Will you tell me later?"
You laugh, "Probably not."
He sighs and pours you a shot, "Fine." He smiles as he hands you the glass and you take it, "Oh god. I hate straight vodka."
You wipe your mouth and set the glass down, "Your turn."
Colby sighs, "I think I'm going to have to agree with y/n on this one." He pours himself a shot and takes it.
"You guys are no fun. Get drunk so you answer." Sam groans.
You roll your eyes and Colby laughs, "Next question, dear host Sam."
Sam scrolls on his phone and smirks, "Do you believe in love at first sight?"
You try not to make it obvious, but you look at Colby and he looks at you. You nod, "I mean, I would have to say so, yeah."
"Ohhh. Wanna tell us who you-"
"No." You cut Sam off and laugh, "that wasn't a part of the question."
Colby laughs and you can tell his eyes are still on you. He looks away as you look back at him and he shrugs, "I mean, with the right person maybe? So what, is that a yes?"
"I'd say so." You nod as you look from him to Sam and Sam nods, "Yeah, that works." He hums as he looks for another question, "Okay." He tries to hold back in his laughter, "Colby. This one is specifically for you."
"Oh no." Colby leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, "Hit me."
"Colby. Why do you have a pair of handcuffs in your room?"
Your mouth drops slightly. You knew about them because it's an on going joke between all your friends, but it still never ceases to amaze you.
Colby's eyes go wide and he gasps, "Oohhhkaaay." He laughs, "Why?"
"Yeah Colby. Explain why." Sam says, "What, are they from your god dang arrest or something? Props on a video.. really, what are they for?"
Colby reaches down and grabs the Tito's bottle, "um.. I mean.." he looks over at you, "I mean, no." He looks at Sam, "Definitely wasn't for those."
He untwists the cap then screws it back on, "Alright.." he leans forward as he sets the bottle on the floor, "I use them for personal fun, alright."
You cover your mouth and look at Sam who looks scared, "What the fuck does that mean?"
"That.." Colby laughs, "..would answer the question, though, right?" He looks into the camera, a smirk on his face, "I'm already.. I'm already getting embarrassed." He leans back, fixing his shirt and Sam shakes his head, "No."
"Judge is saying no." You point to Sam and Colby smiles nervously, "What? No?"
"Drink!" Sam yells and Colby goes to pour his shot before he finally spills, "I use them for.. sexual fun. Alright?"
He caps the alcohol and sets it back down. You can feel your cheeks turning red, but with this next question they're red no matter how hard you try to conceal it.
"Name two dirty kinks that you have." Sam raises his brows and Colby's mouth drops, "Oh god."
"Sam." You scoff and he laughs, "It's not me, I'm just reading the question from this person so yell at them."
"You know.." Colby starts, "I think it's only fair if y/n answers first on this one."
"No- don't do that." You laugh and cover your face. Sam laughs, "He's right." You look at Sam, "Of course you're agreeing with him."
You look at Colby with a smile, "Okay, fine." You take a deep breath, "I like.. wax play."
The look on Colby's face changes and he raises his brows, "Oh really?"
"Oh snaaaap!" Sam yells behind the camera. You hold up your hand, "Yeah, yeah, Colby. Your turn."
"Oh fuck.." he looks into the camera, "Sorry.. mom." He laughs slightly and reaches for the bottle of alcohol, "You know what.. I don't wanna answer now."
"No, no. You have to. I did, so you do." You lean back, crossing your leg over the other, "Come on. Let's hear it."
"I already said one. The handcuff thing." He pours the vodka into the glass, "Does that count as one?"
Sam nods and you sigh, "Good so now you only have to say one." You laugh as Colby caps the bottle, "Okay.. um.." he laughs slightly, "I like to be dominant. Alright.. there we go."
His words did something to you.
You squeeze your thighs together and he most definitely noticed that.
Sam erupts from behind the camera, "Whoooaaaaahhh."
You and Colby both laugh at him as he shakes his head, "The beans.. were spilled."
Colby rubs his eye and sighs, "I hate this." You nod, "Me too." He looks over at you, "What's your second kink Miss y/n."
"Oh we're back to that. Great okay." You look down and sigh, "I guess I might as well just.." you slap your hands into your lap and look up at Colby, "I like to be dominated."
"Oh shit." He tilts his head, eyebrows raising as he nods, "Go you."
"Moving on please." You try to deter from your answer, but it's hard when you said it on purpose.
You wanted Colby to know that you wanted him, but you didn't want to fully come out and say it.
Not yet at least, maybe when he's telling you to say it.
"Okay, okay. Moving on from that spice show." Sam laughs, "Next question."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
"Alright. So that's it for this video, I'm actually surprised that we aren't drunk." Colby looks over at you, "Thanks for coming on and getting down and dirty."
You laugh, "Anytime, guys. This was.. if you look past the embarrassing part, it was kind of fun."
Colby laughs and nods, "Yeah. It was. He looks into the camera, "See you guys in the next one."
Sam cuts the camera off and stand sup to stretch, "That was.. something." He laughs and shakes his head, "You guys are going to be the stars of twitter when this drops."
"Why?" You ask knowing the answer. You just wanted to hear what Sam had to say.
He tilts his head, looking at you dumbfounded. He points to Colby, "Likes to be dominant." He points to you, "Likes to be dominated."
You roll your eyes, "mhm."
Colby laughs, changing the subject, "I'm going to go start editing this." He looks over at you, "You coming with?"
"Yeah, I'll be up then. Just to make sure you don't embarrass me."you tease and he smirks, "I would never."
You smile and look over at Sam a he snorts, "You guys.." he shakes his head and you tilt your head, "You guys.. what?"
"Just keep it down." He mumbles as he walks away. You laugh and look at Colby, "I'll be up." He nods and stands up to grab the camera off the tripod, "See you then."
You watch as he walks away, shaking your head as you think about what happened tonight.
You couldn't believe you were so open about some of the stuff you said.
Wax play?
Like being dominated?
A lot of that had to do with your comfortability level with Colby, if he wasn't there, you probably would have just drank, but at the same time...
You knew exactly what you were doing, and you think it worked.
You get up, making your way up to your room. You change out of your jeans and sweatshirt and put on a pair of shirts and a loose t-shirt.
You take a deep breath before going next door to Colby's room. You knock before slowly opening the door, "Can I come in?"
You watch a now shirtless Colby turn around and he nods, "Of course."
You walk in, closing the door behind you as you walk over to his bed and sit down on the end, "Get a lot done?"
He chuckles, "Just watching it.." his eyes move up your  legs, "So see where I can cut it, you know." He looks up at your face and turns back towards the computer.
You lick your lips, smirking as you bring your legs up to sit comfortably on the bed, "Can you cut out my sneeze, please?"
"Why?" Colby asks, turning his chair towards you, "I thought it was adorable."
"I hate how I sneeze." You argue and Colby rolls his eyes playfully, "Well I don't, so." He spins back towards the computer and you can hear Sam ask about the two kinks.
"Oh god." You groan, falling back onto the bed, "Just cut that whole segment out."
Colby pauses the video and you hear him turn towards you, "Now why would we do that?"
You look up at him and sit up, "Because I actually said what mine were." You laugh, obviously nervous, "That's.. embarrassing."
Colby pulls his lips between his teeth and sighs, "You know what I think?"
You look at him, "What do you think?"
"I think.." he leans forward, fingers tapping your knees, "You said it for a reason."
You chew on your cheek, trying to keep your composure, "Uh huh. Okay." You nod, "What if I did?"
"Then I know what I need to do." He moves forward, crawling up the bed as you move back, his body hovering over yours.
You stare to at him for a few seconds before he leans down, roughly attaching his lips to yours.
You hands slide up his chest, laying on the sides of his neck as he reaches down to spread your legs. He nestles his hips between your knees, grudging his bulge against your clothed center.
You whimper out, moving your hips, "Please."
It was like a switch flipped the minute you said you liked being dominated, because he's doing exactly what he said he likes to do.
"Beg." His voice is low and his lips move along your jaw, "Beg for me, baby. Tell me what you want."
You whimper, tilting your head back to give him room as he kisses down your neck, "Please Colby, I need you."
He sits up, your legs over his thighs, "Need me to do what, baby?" He pushes his hands up your thighs, slipping his fingers inside your shorts and pulling them away.
"Take off my shorts." You lift your hips, "Please."
He chuckles lowly and slowly pulls your shorts down. You bring your legs up as he pulls them over your feet and tosses them, "come here."
You get up, on your knees in front of him, "Tell me what to do."
He smirks, fingers moving to pull your shirt up over your head. His eyes scan down over your bare chest, "Move to the floor."
He stands up as you move to the floor, on your knees awaiting your next command.
Colby stands up, undoing his jeans and pushing them down. He sits down, in his boxers, on the edge of the bed, "Come here."
His eyes follow you as you move in between his legs. You look up at him and he reaches down, gripping your chin, "I'm going to take care of you, okay? But first.." he bites his lip, thumb hooking over your bottom row of teeth, "I want to hear you gagging on my dick."
Your breath hitches in your throat as your heart rate picks up, "Yes, daddy." You smirk slightly as you see his eyebrow twitch.
He nods with a small smirk, "Fucking right."
He brushes hair from your face, lifting his hips as you work his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free and you immediately bring a hand up to wrap around it.
A low groan leaves his throat, lip pulled between his teeth as he locks eyes with you. He nods down, "Go on, sweetheart."
You lick your lips, leaning in to swirl your tongue around the tip. He gasps lowly as you wrap your lips around him, bobbing your head to work at coating him in your spit.
"Fuck, that's it." He moans out quietly. He lays a hand on the back of your head, pushing down, urging you to take him all, even if you can't.
He wanted to hear you.
You push your head down, his cock hitting the back of your throat which causes you to gag around him. He pulls your hair into a makeshift pony with his hands, "That's it."
You bob your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you gag on him a few more times.
Colby moans, pulling your head up. He grips your chin, squeezing as he leans in, "That's my girl." He bucks his hips, "Keep going."
You nod, moving your head back in to take him in fully, gagging around him as your hands move up to grip his thighs.
He moves your head up and down, pulling at your hair as the sound of your saliva squelching around him fills the room, along with the sound of you gagging.
He moans, "Fuck, that's my girl. That's my fucking girl."
He lifts your head, wiping away the spit from your chin with his thumb, "On the bed."
You quickly get up, still breathing rapidly as you get on the bed. He motions with his hand, "Hands and knees, baby."
You roll over onto your stomach from your back and lift yourself up. Your arms holding up your weight as you look over at him.
His eyes scan up and down your body, biting his lip before he holds up a finger. He walks over to his dresser, pulling out the - you guessed it - black fuzzy handcuffs.
Your heart skips a beat as you watch him walk over to you with them, spinning them on his finger like a taunt.
"Do you want these on you?" He tilts his head, holding the cuffs up higher.
You nod, "Yes."
"What did you say?" He bites his lip, trying to fight back his smirk and you swallow, "Yes daddy."
"Atta girl." He winks and moves behind you, reaching down to take your one arm and bring it behind you. You rest your head down onto the bed before bringing your other arm back.
You feel the fuzz against your skin, biting your lip as you hear the click of the cuffs tighten around your wrists.
"You look so fucking hot like this." His hands slide down the small of your back, over the lace of your panties to deliver a smack to each ass cheek at the same time.
You whimper, jolting forward as the sting settles in, "Fuck."
His hands rub the red prints on your skin, "What do you want, baby?" He slips his fingers into the band of your panties, teasing you because he knows exactly what you want - he just wants you to say it.
"Fuck me, I want you to fuck me." You whine, "Please. Please."
"You don't want me to taste you?" He leans down, kissing your lower back, "you don't want me to taste what you've been flaunting around me for all these years?"
His words make your stomach flip, but in the best way.
"Fuck, yes. Yes, Colby." You move your head so you can try to look at him. He chuckles, "Yes, yes Colby what?"
"I want you to taste me." You breathe out, biting your lip as you feel him pulling your panties down over your ass.
He pulls them down to rest at your knees, "fuck, you have such a pretty looking pussy." He brings a hand up, teasingly sliding his fingers up and down your folds.
You whimper, pushing your hips back to meet his fingers more, but he pulls them away, "Mm, baby. You're so eager aren't you?" Colby moves behind you, bending down to kiss the small of your back again.
"Please." You whine, "Colby."
You head him chuckle, "Tell me again, baby. Tell me what you want."
"I want your tongue in me." You say, desperate for his touch, "Please, daddy."
You feel his hands lay on your thighs as his thumbs gently spread your folds open. He leans in, licking a strip up and groaning against you, "So fucking good, baby."
You moan loudly, wrists pulling again the retrains, "Fuck, yes."
Colby's tongue moves up and down a few times before pushing into you. He digs his fingers into your skin as he slides his other hand up to pull your hips back.
You groan loudly, wanting to do badly grip the sheets, "Fuck, fuck. Yes." You pant loudly, wiggling your hips as your eyes roll shut.
Colby pulls away, placing kisses up the back of your thigh as he sits up, "Your pussy is going to feel so fucking good around my dick."
He moves behind you, sliding his hand down to grip the center chain of the cuffs as he slaps the head of his cock against your pussy a few times.
"Tell me you want it." He demands, head of his cock sliding up and down your slick folds.
"I want you. I need you." You push your hips back, nails digging into the palm of your hands, "Please, daddy. I need yo-"
Your words are replaced by a long and loud moan as Colby slowly slides his cock into you, "You keep it up with that daddy shit and I might have to just make it true."
You moan in response, "Please.. daddy."
"Fuck.." he groans as he pushes his hips against you. His hands hold your hips tight as you stretch around him.
"M-move. Please." You whimper out, but Colby doesn't comply. He leans down, kissing your shoulder and you moan as his cock shifts slightly.
"Just give it a minute, baby." He rubs your hip, "You feel so fucking good. I could cum right now."
"C-co-"
He cuts your begging short, "Tell me what you want."
"M-move.." you whimper out quietly, the feeling of him just resting inside of you becoming unbearable.
"Louder."
You whimper, a little louder than the last, "Please move.."
"Mm. Louder baby. I wanna hear you nice and clear." Colby continues to rub your hip.
You move your head, "Colby.. please move."
"Mm. No I need you louder than that, baby." Colby chuckles and you sigh, slightly frustrated, "But Sam.."
"I don't give a fuck about him right now, y/n. I only care about one thing right now and that's hearing you beg for me." He pulls your hips back, causing you to moan at the pressure from his cock.
"oh my god." You moan out, making your voice louder, "Fuck me, daddy. Please move, I need you to fuck me!"
"That's my girl." He pulls out and thrusts back in, "Fuck, keep going baby. I wanna hear you."
You pull your wrists, whining when you can't move them anywhere, "Fuck, yes yes yes."
Colby lays a hand on yours as he thrusts, pulling the metal chain to the cuffs back with each thrusts, "Fucking hell, baby. You're so fucking good."
You moan out, basically screaming his name, "Fuck, Colby! Yes!"
You squeeze his cock, digging your nails into his hand. His thrusts are punishing, building up your orgasm quickly, "Shit, d-daddy!"
You whine, "So fucking close. So fucking.. close."
"Hold it, baby. Wait for me." He leans down, kissing up your back, "Wait for me."
A constant string of moans leaves your lips as your eyes roll back, closing as you try your best not to cum just yet, "Please." You breathe out, "C-Colby."
"Almost there, sweetheart." He whispers in your ear and you nod against the mattress and he groans, "Where do you want me?"
You just whimper in response and he sits up, "Can't hear you, baby. Tell me where you want it."
"Don't stop." You moan out, "Please daddy."
He grips your hips tight, "Fucking hell, you gonna cum for me?"
"Y-yes. Yes yes." You gasp, pushing your hips back as much as you can, "Fuck, cum in me."
His fingertips press into your skin harder, "F-fuck." He moans loud as his thrusts become sloppy, "Shit." He breathes out, voice shaky as you feel his cock twitch inside of you.
You moan, breathing heavy as he gently rests your hips down onto the bed. He undoes the cuffs, rubbing your wrists as soon as they're off, "Are you okay? These didn't hurt you did they?"
"No." You try to shake your head, "No I'm fine, Colbs." You smile as he lays down next to you, gently pressing his lips to yours.
“So.. follow up question..” you look up at him, “Does this mean we’re together now, or?”
“you're my girl, now." He brushes hair from your face, "Thought me moaning out my fucking girl gave that away." He chuckles and you smile with a slight laugh, "Yeah, no you're right."
You sit up, leaning over to kiss him and he lays a hand on your back, smiling within the kiss, "Just be prepared for Sam to bitch in the morning because you were pretty loud."
You lean back, laughing as you push his shoulder, "Only because you told me to."
"Yeah, and you listened very well." He winks and pulls you back down for another kiss, “Next time, we'll take it a little bit slower, and more gentle."
.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.
Thank you for reading!
Love you all!
Like and reblogs are all greatly appreciated! 🖤
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halemerry · 8 months
Text
I’m doing it. I’m breaking down the Scene. You know the one. I've been tearing it apart for a week straight now in discord and figured I should leave my observations here. So, uh, yeah, this one's a big one so buckle up folks!
I want to start with the build up because I can never leave well enough alone and because I think the framing we have coming into this sequence is important. We start with the camera on Mr. Acts of Service himself. Crowley, after banishing Muriel, starts cleaning up the bookshop. The music playing is the soft slow rendition of the opening theme. He is returning this space to the status quo, resetting back to normal, fully intending to do this for Aziraphale before dragging him out to the Ritz, falling back on their typical pattern of going out together for food and drink.
Now in a moment he's going to get interrupted by Nina and Maggie but before we get there I want to take a second to draw attention to the area of the bookshop that Crowley will be operating in for the bulk of this. This space is one we very frequently see Aziraphale in. It's his desk behind the till - a spot linked intrinsically to him, even down to the fact that it's located on the east side of the shop. The windows are throwing beams of light onto Aziraphale's chair and onto the same spot Crowley will stand during The Scene. This lighting choice will not change from now until our last shots in the bookshop and the way the blocking plays around these sunbeams is very aware (as Good Omens nearly always is) of exactly where they will land.
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Nina and Maggie enter the scene to have a chat about boundaries and communication. Maggie, his own mirror, tells him flat out that he can't play with their lives like that. Maggie and Nina then both tell him that he and Aziraphale need to talk. And I don’t think they're wrong, exactly, but I do think that Aziraphale and Crowley are actually a lot better at communicating in general than they are in these following high stakes scenes. But that's some meta for later - for now I want to just focus on the particular way Crowley's been primed for the conversation he and Az are about to have. Nina in particular does something really interesting. She does exactly what we as the audience did when we first saw Nina and Maggie: she mistakenly projects herself onto Crowley. She says he has trust issues because she does and in the process accidentally frames the core of their problem as Crowley needing to allow himself to trust Aziraphale, a thing that he actively already does and has done for quite some time and has been shown to us several times throughout the two seasons.
Now the build up we get for Aziraphale going into this conversation is very small. By which I mean practically non-existent. We start at the end of his conversation with the Metatron who tells him to go tell his friend the good news - which notably does not imply that the news is something that would require Crowley to make a choice - and sends Aziraphale on his way. Now the most crucial thing in this sequence, to me, is the expressions Aziraphale makes when he thinks the Metatron isn't looking at him. While polite and smiley when engaged with him, Az's expression falls as soon as he doesn't have eyes on him. Something is wrong and Aziraphale knows it.
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Aziraphale enters the shop. The doorway is dark and shadowy and he hasn't composed himself yet - though he does give Nina and Maggie a little smile as they leave. Then, as soon as they're not looking at him, but before he approaches Crowley, the tension is back.
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He hesitates, then smiles and approaches Crowley. Crowley, planted dead center in that beam of light from earlier, takes off his glasses and promptly starts nervously rambling. The music cuts off here entirely, giving us nothing to focus on but the noises coming from our lead actors, the background noise from the street, and the ticking of the clock in the background. Aziraphale puts up his hands like he's going to interrupt then lowers them again as Crowley keeps talking, his face shifting into this helpless sort of smitten look.
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Now look at the light and how it hits the bookshelves behind Crowley as he tries to get his confession going. It's in the shape of a wing. Keep an eye on that - when the camera chooses to show us this one wing of light is important.
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Aziraphale then interrupts and there are two things I want to draw attention to here as Aziraphale fumbles for words. First of all is the fact that he glances in the direction of the door (and the Metatron) at least three times as he's struggling to speak.
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Secondly, I want to draw attention to the words Az actually says here. He first echoes the Metatron's earlier statement about good news. He then does not roll into the news itself and instead glances at the door and says the Metatron. He starts rambling about the Metatron to a very confused looking Crowley and evetually talks his way into that the Metatron said something. He then hits a wall again, scrambling to find words and instead of explaining the context of what the Metatron says he lands on Gabriel. His brain latches onto someone obviously on the forefront of both their minds and something vaguely relevant to the news he's about to share. He rambles more about Gabriel's job, glancing once again at the door in the middle of this, still avoiding getting to the actual point or perhaps even synthesizing said point as he goes.
We then cut to what is framed as a flashback. I think it is very notable we only see this as Az is telling it to us. In other words that this is not us witnessing an event happening but us witnessing what Aziraphale is telling Crowley. This sequence is the single scene where the Metatron calls Crowley by name despite actively avoiding it in any real time continuity sequences. He uses it twice here which I think also is the strongest thread in here that tells us that we are seeing what Crowley is being told not necessarily what actually happened.
The instant the idea of restoring Crowley comes up the wing of light behind Crowley loses visibility. Crowley's speechless for a moment so Aziraphale fills the silence, already looking like he wants to cry as he talks about the old days. (I also can't help but to notice that the lights behind Az in this shot look like eyes.) Crowley finally speaks and circles around the beam of light he's been standing in like an object seeking to re-establish a source of gravity. The music cuts back in here with tense drawn out notes.
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Crowley talks about how Hell offered him his place back and he turned them down. Aziraphale in turn presses on ideas that we know he doesn't really believe. It's a echo of the bandstand and uses a lot of the same language of that fight - another fight we know features Aziraphale saying things he knows aren't true. By now, we have seen him multiple times this season express he does not want to go back and make it abundantly clear that the side they have made for themselves is important to him. We see him actively calling angels bad and incompetent, contrary to everything he's telling Crowley here. We see him be the one to repetitively remind Crowley that they are on their side and be the one that always draws attention to that first. Yet here he says Heaven is the side of light to Crowley - who by the way is literally framed in light. The frame is telling us outright that Crowley is already Good as he is, while Az's expressions are telling us he knows Heaven isn't.
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Aziraphale can't tell him that he did not turn down the job and Crowley does another orbit. The music cuts again. This time, he stops with his back to Az, tilts his head upward and decides to ruin me by invoking God.
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Here he is, hearing these awful things that he was sure they had moved on from, hearing these things he has tried for so long and so hard to help them both unlearn. But these sorts of habits and lessons are insidious and he knows that and he himself is even a victim of that himself. I mean, don't get me wrong, he recognizes this is weird, I think, but between his own self worth issues and the stress of the few days they'd had can't work out what exactly is off here. He's confused and lost and just been told, in his mind, that he is not good enough as he is - a thing he has always on some level also believed. Yet he reaches out to the parent that taught him that lesson in the first place for strength and grounds himself with that. He circles back to stand in the beam of light and, with that wing of light finally backlighting him again, he is brave and tries to be enough anyway. He bows his head downward, fully emerging the line of this body in the light and tries again. Because even now, even after that emotional blow, Crowley is an optimist who can't help but to try.
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At first Aziraphale can't figure out quite what is going on here. He squints at Crowley and glances at the door again. Crowley meanwhile keeps continually glancing upward, whether at God or to hold back tears or some combination of both. In most of these shots Crowley bisects the room, creating a dark half to his left and a light half to his right.
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Crowley says he relies on Aziraphale. Even here, even now when he's just hurt him. Because it is the truth. Because Aziraphale makes him feel less alone. Because Aziraphale proves to him that no matter how fucked the system is that there is still good in the world, even if he doesn't always agree with it.
It is only once there is no doubt what Crowley is doing that Aziraphale starts shaking his head in very small quick shakes. He looks panicked even as they both physically draw closer to each other. It's huge not here, not like this energy to me. Aziraphale asks Crowley to come with to help him run Heaven. This is the point where Crowley starts tearing up.
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Crowley then says you can't leave this bookshop, trying to say you can't leave me. Az, nearly in tears himself, says 'oh Crowley. Nothing lasts forever' as a means to convey that the books aren't what is important here. Crowley, naturally, hears 'including us.'
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Crowley looks down again, quietly agrees, and puts on his glasses, covering himself up again. He then wishes Aziraphale good luck and the music starts up again, still tense but sorrowful now. He leaves the light and heads to the door. Az can't help but to call after him. Please wait. And Crowley can't help but to listen. It's worth noting here that even as he rotates toward the north door, the light still gently hits his face. The shots in general are darker though. He's moved away from the light but it still can't help but to touch him.
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"Come with me," says Aziraphale and then after a pause adds "To Heaven." Aziraphale, looking heartbroken, starts one of two 'I' statements he will struggle around in the next few moments. He lands on I need. Which. I want to pause there a moment because holy shit. That is not something they say out loud either. Az looks at him a moment, visibly struggling before he says his dialogue about Crowley not understanding his offer. Like he's said something he didn't mean to and needs to cover it up or like he can't handle the silence after such an honest statement. And on some level he's not wrong there. Because Crowley doesn't understand what Aziraphale is trying to say. But Aziraphale doesn't understand the way Crowley is reading it to course correct either.
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Crowley says that he does understand and that he understands better than Aziraphale does. And he also isn't wrong either, from his perspective. Because he does understand the implications behind the offer theoretically in play here. Because he does know that the position Aziraphale is presenting him is not going to result in the outcome Aziraphale is presenting him with. There are some things you can't undo just like memories slipping through the cracks.
Az says there's nothing more to say, trying to dismiss Crowley despite having been the one to pull him to a stop moments ago. He puts on a fake polite smile for a beat but then his is jaw sets, mouth working as his eyes drop - unable to look Crowley in the eye.
Crowley tells him to listen as the music fades out and points upward. Aziraphale humors this, glancing up a few times before looking frustrated, saying he can't hear anything. The light from the window shines down in his direction without actually touching him. Crowley tells him "That's the point. No nightingales." The shot he's on here is a dark one without even any of the book shops pillars visible in it to brighten the shot.
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Aziraphale looks frozen a moment here and then as Crowley calls him an idiot and says 'we could have been us' his face completely crumbles. He rapidly glances away to hide his face and Crowley moves and reaches to pull him back. They're both distraught. Az is clearly already holding back tears even before Crowley touches him. The angle of this shot frames Aziraphale in the light of the window. For the first time in this whole sequence Aziraphale is in the light, literally being physically pulled into it by Crowley.
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The music swells, playing a similar theme to the one that plays as the Pillars of Creation are formed at the start of the season. They shift back and forth, the camera focusing on Aziraphale's face and hands. His hands move uncertainly, trying to reach out even as he's struggling emotionally. He is visibly shaking but he crucially does not pull away, not even a little.
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His hands settle on Crowley's back, right where his wings would be, and for a brief moment gets taller, like he's allowing himself to lean into the kiss. They press together tightly, their mutual gravity sending them crashing together before they break apart. When they do Aziraphale looks devastated and his eyes move pretty much instantly to look out the window where the Metatron would be.
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Crowley's glasses make him harder to read here, but he looks at Aziraphale like a man awaiting judgement in a trial he knows he's already lost. He's sad too, but as always, is waiting for Aziraphale's reaction. Because he might push continually at he boundaries of them as a unit but he has always let Aziraphale decide where to set them in stone.
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Az fumbles over words here. He gets stuck on "I" here and lets it hang in the air. He then visibly thinks his words over, his expression slowly filling with resolve as he comes to some sort of conclusion. Then, like it's difficult to say, he falls back into old coded language. "I forgive you." A thing he has always said in response to things that he agrees with but cannot or should not allow himself to have.
Crowley sighs and tells him not to bother, refusing to fall into the old pattern that Aziraphale has. He is setting a boundary, for once, and even if it is one born from misunderstanding I am proud of him for being able to. He turns away and leaves. And this is where Az seems most in danger of falling apart. His lips move as Crowley goes, forming the start of a 'no' after him. He draws back from the door and turns his body away from it, physically distancing himself from anything that would feel like following Crowley. Except he can't help himself. With shaking hands he reaches up to touch his lips. He presses in, like he's trying to recreate the pressure and then his jaw works a moment and his expression sets as resolved.
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The Metatron enters through the front door, which is framed in dark lighting. Aziraphale looks panicked and immediately turns his whole body away from him to hide his face while he collects himself.
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He turns around after a beat and the Metatron asks 'how did he take it?' This is an odd question that only sort of half fits the fact that we are meant to believe at this point - that Aziraphale should be obtaining a yes or no from Crowley. It's not asking Crowley's choice at all. It's like the Metatron assumed a different conversation had happened or perhaps that he already knew the answer.
Aziraphale says he took it badly and the Metatron just takes a moment to direct a few casual digs at Crowley. He references him being stubborn and too curious - all the while avoiding the use of this name. At this point Az's eyes are locked out the window in the direction Crowley vanished to. The Metatron asks if he's ready to start despite originally having promised Az time to think over his answer. Aziraphale keeps glancing out the window.
For a moment he cracks, stepping away from the Metatron and back toward the east side of the bookshop. For the only time in this whole sequence he steps right into the sunbeam Crowley started in. It notably never illuminates his face as he mentions the issue of his bookshop (a statement absolutely not about the bookshop).
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The Metatron explains Muriel will take care of it. Aziraphale looks back out the window with the start of an objection.
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The Metatron interrupts him asking if there's anything he needs to take with him. Az's mouth takes a moment to try and form words. He steps out of the light again, starts to object, and then cuts off, eyes back to the window. Then his expression shifts again, settling in another state of resolve before he puts on his falsely polite face and follows the Metatron out.
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As they leave the shop we cut back to Crowley. Crowley, who could've left to go handle his own emotions, did not leave. Instead he planted himself there, nice and noticeable. Like he wanted Aziraphale to see and know that he still has a choice. Like he needs to see Aziraphale make that choice for himself. Like he can't quite bring himself to be the one to close that last door. He stands there, framed by light, and doesn't move until the doors to the elevator to Heaven close behind Aziraphale. He then glances at Nina and Maggie and then gets in the Bentley, which starts playing the song that we now know he knows is supposed to be theirs. He turns off the music and drives away.
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So there's a lot in these sequences and most of it probably won't help us figure out exactly what comes next, but there are definite signs that all is not as it's being presented to us. Whether he's actively lying or not, something is wrong that Aziraphale either can't or won't talk about frankly with Crowley. I suspect, whether it's under stress from a literal threat or because he believes that it is the safest option for them, that Aziraphale is doing all of this to protect Crowley.
There are also all sorts of signals here, especially in the lights, that gesture at the fact their togetherness is a net good. Together they are balanced and stronger for it and likely more in alignment with the Ineffable Plan. And, more importantly than that, that said togetherness is so clearly what they both want. They have loved each other longer than anything alive has ever loved anyone and none of this changes that. They both are saying that in their own ways here, even if those ways are not ones the other is particularly good at picking up and I for one cannot wait to get to see the payoff of them learning how to.
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nonranghaes · 4 months
Text
heads up! long distance relationships.
most of the time, you see sleepy minho because you called him in the middle of the night (for him). so when he calls you, you immediately think that something's wrong until you see his dimly lit face, all snuggled up in his blankets. he turns over once you pick up, eyes squinting in the low light.
"hey... everything okay?" you ask after a moment, pressing one of your earbuds further into your ear. you can't hear any of his cats, just the soft whirring of a small fan. "minho?"
"missed you." his voice is laced with sleep and soft, but you can hear it clearly. the sound of blankets shifting around him fills your ears, and he pulls the blankets back in closer. "that's all."
ah. you have sleepy, sappy minho now. sometimes you think you're usually the one who gets all mushy and emotional when you're away from one another for too long (it's always too long, to be fair)... but minho has his moments. always when he's sleepy, though: as if he thinks he needs to hold it together for the both of you. this always happens when the two of you are too busy to video call for a little bit. you smile a little, though, and watch as he runs a hand through his fluffy hair.
"cuddle with soonie."
he whines. "that's not the same." again, he curls up tighter in bed. "just... come see me."
"minho--"
"i know," he says, voice clearer. less asleep. "i just... i want you here. i'm tired of waking up with doongie's ass in my face because he's hungry instead of seeing you."
"i don't think me being there would stop doongie."
another groan. "i just--i miss you. i wanted to see your face again. send me more pictures."
"i will," you promise. "of what?"
"just... you. doing stuff. getting coffee or whatever. i just miss seeing your stupid face." he huffs.
"oh, so now my face is stupid, huh?" you're enjoying teasing him the way he teases you. you've called his handsome face dumb plenty of times, after all, and he always asks what it makes you that you love his dumb face so much.
"if i'm your dummy, you're my dummy," he says a moment later. "that's how this works."
you smile to yourself again, and see the way his eyes light up a little. he loves you. it's always clearest in moments like these: his eyes, the subtle smile he always has, the fact he's calling you in the middle of the night...
"we'll talk about this later, okay?" you say. you can't look at your bank info right now--and you'd rather not make minho look at his when he's like this. "i've gotta go back to work."
he just groans again, clearly annoyed. "just run away."
"don't tempt me." you smile, and blow a kiss at your camera. "we'll figure it out. love you. goodnight."
he mumbles the same, and the last thing you see before you send the call is his sleepy, smiling face.
soon, you promise yourself for the millionth time since you started dating minho. soon you'll figure it all out.
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squoxle · 2 months
Note
On the kitchen counter, in the school storage unit, I don’t care
I think I like it in the kitchen😏...
🖤 𝐹𝓊𝒸𝓀 𝑀𝑒 𝐿𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒜 𝒮𝓁𝓊𝓉 ~ 𝒮𝓊𝓃𝑔𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒻𝒻 𝟣𝟪+
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📷pairing: Sunghoon!procrastinator!bf x Reader!afab | 📷wc:1.4k | 📷summary: Your boyfriend, Sunghoon, procrastinated with completing a video assignment for school, but when you came over to help him you ended up making a different type of video |📷cw: unprotected sex, pussy eating, voyeurism/exhibitionism, spitting, dirty talk, pet names [slut, princess, whore, etc.], masturbation, choking, oral m. and fm. receiving (basically, porn with a plot)
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“I can’t believe you waited until the last fucking minute to do this,” you sighed as you walked through the door, greeting your procrastinator of a boyfriend. "This video assignment is due tomorrow and you haven't even started."
“I didn’t feel like doing it though,” Sunghoon said, running his fingers through his hair as he trailed behind you.
“So you just waited for me?”
“Is that a problem?”
“Uhhh yeah,” you replied as you slid your puffy coat off of your shoulders.
“You didn’t have a problem when I waited for you the other day,” he smirked as you thought back to the events that transpired a few days ago.
“That was different,” you spat, trying your best to hold back the smile.
“Was it? Because I do remember you saying something along the lines of ‘wait! I’m not ready to c—“ you cut him off with a playful push to his arm.
“Just go get the damn camera,” you said as you swiveled yourself into one of the metal barstools. Even though you were wearing jeans, you could still feel the cold steel against your thighs.
Sunghoon chuckled to himself before walking off to grab the camera from his room. You distracted yourself with random thoughts while you waited for your boyfriend to return.
You gasped as you felt Sunghoon’s lips against your cheek. He gently pecked your face as he reached a hand down to grip your thigh.
“Smile princess,” he said, using his free hand to hold the camera at an angle that caught the actions going on between the two of you.
You rolled your eyes as he placed the camera on the counter.
“Hoon, we need to focus,” you giggled as he spun you around to face him.
“I am focusing.”
“On your project.”
“Hmm, fine,” he pouted before leaning in to kiss your lips.
After a few failed attempts at the video’s introduction, Sunghoon was just about ready to give up.
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“Hoon, come on. This is due tomorrow. We need to get some footage or else we’ll have nothing to edit. Therefore, nothing to present. No video, equal nothing to turn in and that’s gonna be a zero,” you sighed in an attempt to encourage your boyfriend to at least make something.
“I don’t even fucking care anymore. So what if I get a zero. One zero won’t fuck my grades up that much,” he shrugged.
“That’s not the point,” you said as he plopped down in a chair. “How about I do it with you? Would that make it easier?”
“Hmm…maybe,” he sighed, tilting his head back. “But I really just don’t want to do it. I’d rather be doing something else,” he smirked.
“Sunghoon. Focus,” you spat. “Now come on, get over here before I change my mind,” you adjusted the tripod and lenses to get a shot of you and Sunghoon in frame.
“Fine~” he hummed, jerking his body out of the seat before walking over to you. “Is it recording?”
“What do you think?” You asked sarcastically.
“What do you think,” he mocked you as he noticed the red light. "Can you start it? Just for the practice run," you slightly rolled your eyes at his request. "Please. And I promise I'll do it next," he pouted.
Looking at that face, only one thing crossed your mind, if he wasn't your boyfriend you would walked away by now. Ditching his lazy ass to figure it out on his own.
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"Ugh, fine," you groaned as smiled so hard you thought he was gonna break his jaw. "Hi, I'm--" you were cut off by Sunghoon grabbing your hips as he pressed himself into you. "Sunghoon--"
"Shh. I'm trying to focus," he said as he persisted to gently push into from behind.
"Sunghoon--"
"Please, Princess. I promise I'll do it after we finish."
"But--"
"I can't think straight if my dick is aching to fuck the shit out of you," he said as you now came aware of his growing hard that he rubbed against you.
You couldn't deny the fact that sometimes you could be equally as conceited as him. Just the idea of him being so turned on because of you was enough to get you going.
"Okay, but we gotta be quick alright," you said as you looked over your shoulder to meet his eyes.
He reached his hands around you, sliding your pants to your ankles as he kneeled down to glide his tongue between your folds. The wetness increasing from a mixture of his saliva and your own juices as you moaned from his satisfying touch.
You looked down to see him palming himself through his sweats as he let out soft moans while tongue fucking you. You couldn't help but swirl your ass around as he pulled out his dick, stroking it with one hand while he continued to eat you out. "Fuck, princess. You taste so fucking good."
He pushed you back onto the countertop, sliding you across the cold surface as he spread your legs to expose your sloppy wet pussy. Every part of your body belonged to him and he made sure to remind you anytime you fucked. "Mmm, look at my pretty little fuck hole," he grinned as he pressed his thumb into your clit, slightly massaging it before pushing his tip against your opening.
He teased you with it, gliding it back and forth without going in. You were at the point where you were ready to push it in yourself, but you knew how much he loved to torture you with pleasure. "I know you want me slut. I know you want my dick deep inside of you," he said as he gripped your thighs tighter. "Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you."
You broke, craving his dick more than anything, "I want you to fuck me so bad," hearing these words placed a little grin on his face as he spat on your pussy before pushing every inch into your throbbing cunt. You let out a high-pitched squeal as you felt him enter you. "Ah," you moaned.
"Ngh, fuck. I wanna see that pretty face while I fuck you," he said as he grabbed the camera pointing it to your face as your eyebrows furrowed. "Mmm, fuck you look so sexy. My sexy fucking cum slut," he said as he started fucking you faster.
"Tell me how much of a whore you are for me," he huffed moving the camera down to get a shot of his dick pumping in and out of your slimy pussy. "Ugh! I'm such a dirty slut. Your dick feels so fucking good inside of me," you hiccuped as you felt his dick pumping deeper into you.
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"Mmm, fuck yes. You're my slutty little princess," he said as he bit into your neck. He caught a shot of your face as he sucked on your neck. "God, I love those delicious sounds you make," overwhelmed with pleasure he placed the camera down as he pushed you down onto the countertop, gripping his hands around your throat as he kept fucking you.
He pulled your legs over his shoulders, as he picked up the speed. He was almost whining at this point as he fucked you mercilessly. "Ugh! Ngh! You feel so fucking good, princess," he moaned as he slammed against your juicy pussy. You were moaning uncontrollably at this point, heaving your chest as he tore your legs open more, pressing your thighs into the surface as the two of you came at the same time.
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You felt his cum spill inside of you as you caught your breath. You must've blacked out because you didn't remember anything else when you woke up naked next to Sunghoon who was jerking off to the video you unintentionally made last night.
"Sunghoon," you groaned as the sounds of him stroking himself were muffled by the cover. "You're just so sexy, I couldn't help myself," he said as he continued pleasing himself. "Did you at least finish the project?" you asked as you reached your hand down to hold his hand as it moved up and down his length.
"Of course I did. And I submitted it. See, I told you I was gonna do it," he said as he pulled the cover back exposing his cock as he held out his hand for you to spit on it before using your wetness to stimulate his dick some more. "Hmm, well I'm glad I could help," you said, lowering down to suck on his pink tip before he pushed your head down, throat fucking you as he let the video play beside him.
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❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!
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repulsiveliquidation · 2 months
Text
If I have to ask, I don’t want it.
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Alexia Putellas x Reader [ANGST.]
Years into married life, Alexia gets bored of you. Based on a quote from Frida Kahlo.
//
I’m not asking you to kiss me, nor apologize to me when I think you’re wrong.
“Where the hell were you?” you ask Alexia, confronting her after she walks into the house way past midnight. It’s four hours past she promised to be home, having gone out with the girls for a drink after training. You were home all day waiting for her but she sounded like she needed some time to relax after being cooped up at home from her surgery so you told her to have fun and sorted yourself out. She had promised to only be an hour or two, but it turned into six hours without even a phone call or text.
“Don’t start with me, I’m not in the fucking mood for one of your lectures,” she growls, throwing her bag down and walking into the house without even a glance at you. Your eyes fill with tears, hands clenched into tight fists by your side as she slams the bedroom door behind her.
You follow her, tears flowing down your face. She’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth, rolling her eyes when she sees your crying state in the doorway.
“What does that mean?” you ask her, arms crossed before wiping away your tears.
“I wanted to drink, it’s none of your business what I do.”
“You promised me you’d be home by 8.”
“I’d rather be out with them than stuck at home with you.”
//
I won’t even ask you to hug me when I need it most.
Tears rolled down your cheeks when the doctors told you you couldn’t have children. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when he uttered those words to you and your wife. Alexia looked almost distant, you figured that she was simply devastated by the news and didn’t know how to process it. The moment you got home though, she had lots to say.
“You’re telling me you didn’t fucking know?” she yelled the moment the front door closed.
“Ale, I’ve never had problems before! I-”
“Save it. You know I wanted to start a family and now you fuck things up.”
“Ale, I’m sorry…I’m so so sorry,” you tell her, moving closer to her. you reach out for her hand but she flinches away.
“Save your apologies for someone who cares.”
//
I don’t ask you to tell me how beautiful I am, even if it’s a lie, nor write me anything beautiful.
You’re at an award ceremony with Alexia, she’s sat at the table chatting away with Aitana while you are backstage waiting to receive an award. The beige dress you had on matched Alexia’s suit, there were many compliments hurled your way the entire night. One person hadn’t said anything to you yet, not one compliment from the person that mattered the most to you. Even if you knew that you didn’t come close to being hers.
“She looks stunning in that dress, doesn’t she?” Aitana compliments you as you walk out on stage. Alexia is on her phone, texting someone who’s clearly more interesting than her wife receiving an award on stage.
Aitana slaps her arm, getting more and more annoyed at her friend.
“What?” Alexia says angrily, Aitana just rolls her eyes.
“Alexia. She’s looking at you.”
Alexia looks up at the stage just in time to hear you thanking her for being her beautiful wife and for sticking with her through all the rough patches throughout your career. She forced a smile, knowing that there was surely a camera on her.
You know her well, and that itself hurts because it’s when you walk off stage and you see her smiling at her phone that you know you’ve lost her.
//
I won't even ask you to call me to tell me how your day went, nor tell me you miss me.
Three days. It’s been three days since you last heard from Alexia. You were both on international duty, the England camp was going smoothly when Sarina called for a quick break. You sit beside Leah and go on your phone, hoping to see if Alexia has texted you. Nothing. Your shoulders slump a little and your best friend notices, a look of concern across her face.
“What’s up?” Leah asks, genuinely curious.
“Nothing, it’s,” you contemplate telling her. telling her that you know Alexia is seeing someone else. Loving someone else. Kissing someone else. Fucking someone else. But you hold your tongue. You force a smile like you’ve seen Alexia do in front of you lately, hoping it’s enough to convince your best friend. She doesn’t buy it but knows not to pry, especially when she can see that you’re hurting.
“It’s nothing.”
//
I won’t ask you to thank me for everything I do for you, nor care about me when my soul is down.
“Dinner’s on the table,” you tell Alexia as she walks into the kitchen. You look up to see her all dressed and ready to go out, your expression changes to one of sadness.
“You go ahead,” she says, grabbing her car keys. “I’m meeting someone for dinner.”
“Is it the woman you’re always texting?” you ask quietly, back turned to her. You were a coward, your mind told you; you couldn’t even bear to see the expression of pure surprise on her face that quickly turned into one that was serious.
“I am texting no one,” the front door opens, “Don’t stay up.”
//
I won’t ask you to support me in my decisions.
Having requested to be loaned for the rest of the season, you were excited to see what clubs would want to have you for a while. Arsenal had always been interested in you, having played alongside Leah in the academy when you were younger. So when their legal team got into negotiations with Barça, you immediately agreed.
Things at home hadn’t at all improved, you figured that some time apart would be good for you both.
“Can I speak with you for a second?” you sheepishly ask Alexia who was sitting in the living room on her laptop working away.
She doesn’t even look up at you, nodding her head for you to continue.
“I’m moving to Arsenal for the rest of the season.”
“Why?” she asks with a sharp tone, eyes narrowing in an accusatory fashion.
“They don’t need me here at Barça, besides, it’s not like you need me either.”
“So your solution when we’re having issues is to run away to England? You’ve always thought about yourself and not the team.”
“Don’t you dare say that, I have given this team my everything.”
“And yet here you are, throwing it away because you’re mad at me!”
“Who the hell says I’m doing this for you?” she looks taken aback when you raise your voice. You rarely did, and it takes her by surprise.
“I am doing this for us. You can’t even LOOK at me without looking like you’re disgusted by me. I am going, whether you fucking approve or not.”
//
I won’t even ask you to listen to me when I have a thousand stories to tell you.
“She’s having the time of her life there! Did you see that goal she scored over the weekend, that’s goal of the year material no?” Patri talks to Lucy and Ona about you, the girls missing you, and having spent the weekend bonding and watching your game against Watford.
“Sí, it was perfect. She is thriving at Arsenal, but I hope they give her back!” Ona says with a light chuckle, leaning into Lucy’s side in the locker room after training.
Alexia walks in, Patri yelling at her to join in on the conversation. It was her wife they were talking about anyway.
“Did you talk to your wife at all today? She called me last night and said that she misses you.” Lucy tells her, watching the captain sit in her cubby and undo her shoes. Alexia shakes her head, immediately getting on her phone.
“No, I didn’t have time last night. I’ll text her.”
“What could you possibly be doing except sulking when she’s not at home? You didn’t have a drink with us either, quite frankly you seemed eager to leave after watching the game yesterday.”
“What I do or where I go is none of your fucking business,” Alexia stands and walks across the room to them. She shakes with rage, eyes filled with pure anger at the insinuation of her being unfaithful. She was, but the thought of her friends finding out that she was doing this to you ate at her. You were perfect in their eyes, the person who would be there for anyone, no matter what. And there she was, being the very thing she promised never to do to you the day you got married.
//
I won’t ask you to do anything, not even be my side forever.
Divorce. That was where your marriage was headed. As you sat in your lawyer's office drawing up the documents, you were devastated. Pictures of Alexia with another woman surfaced just before you got home for Christmas. The plane ride was the worst 2 hours of your life. Alexia and you were through. She hadn’t loved you for a very long time but you had tried so hard to ignore it and convince yourself that it wasn’t true. Those pictures were a slap to your face.
She looked happy with her.
She looked content with her.
She looked in love.
You set the papers in front of her at lunch with the girls. They sat in silence as she read the stack, slowly realizing what you had just handed to her. She tried to get you to take them back and work things out but you firmly held your own.
You knew your worth.
You didn’t need her anymore.
You didn’t need to ask for her love ever again.
Because if I have to ask you, I don’t want it anymore.
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ghostsy · 4 months
Text
Smile For the Camera
WARNINGS: yandere, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment, abuse of power, slight codependency, non-consensual implications, implied nsfw, implied forced pregnancy, lot of implications lol
A/N: been sitting in the drafts for a while, figured i should get smth out, hopefully it's alright ^^
read at your own discretion.
yandere ! BAKUGOU KATSUKI X READER
“Her eyes are up there, creep.”
She had to resist the urge to sigh, lip twisting in slight pity, watching the boy stammer out an apology as he fumbled with the mic at her chest. She scoffed internally. Was he supposed to put it on blindfolded? She turned to her lover, giving him a gentle, reassuring smile.
It’s okay. I’m okay.
Crimson irises met her own, hesitating a bit as his jaw tightened reflexively. He smacked his tongue against his teeth, rolling his eyes, and turned to the host who was shuffling through her cue cards. Memorizing her lines, it seemed.
“I don’t want any of that surprise shit, alright?” His voice was laced with the sort of irritation that would normally send her on full alert. They were in public right now, though, and callous, gruff reputation aside, he was no idiot, “We’ll walk out; I’m not fuckin’ kidding, we’ve done it before.”
The host laughed out his name–his hero name–nervously, “Of course not, sir. All of our questions were sent to your assistant for prior approval,” As she caught his unimpressed stare, she stumbled out another placation, “But, I mean–Of course, if you–you’re more than welcome to look over them again, sir.”
“Fuckin’ stop it with that–‘sir’--makes me feel old as shit.” Did it? That was news to her. He certainly liked it when it came from her lips. Her mind wandered to its most recent recollection. When she was forced to her knees, his hand at the back of her neck, pooling the tears from her eyes at the dip where her cheek met the pillow–she couldn’t remember what she’d done wrong that time. 
Where he’d brought his lips to her ear,  C’mon, voice rough and deep, Ask me nicely, now, And, raising his voice a few octaves to mock her, Please, sir. He huffed out an ugly laugh, Please give me your cock, sir. God, she hadn’t been able to walk straight for days, legs and dignity sore and bruised from the abuse–only one of which ever really seemed to recover.
“Of course, si–Of course. We’re on in–We’ll be ready in five, if that’s alright?” He gave the woman a curt nod, and she’d shuffled off to the stage to prepare, calling the intern tending to her to follow, a direction the boy took with palpable relief, eyes brushing her own apologetically before he hurried off.
“Hey,” The blonde’s attention was turned back to her, and he stalked forward, “Last one, alright?” He brought his hand to her cheek in comfort, though all she could think of was the ease at which he could snap her neck between his fingers without so much as blinking.
She shook herself from her thoughts, humming, and brought her hand to cup his own, leaning into his touch. “It’s alright,” At least I’m outside, she wanted to say, “Long as I’m with you, I’m alright.”
His eyes softened at her answer, and he opened his mouth to reply when the lights dimmed, catching his attention. His hand dropped to catch her own, lacing their fingers together, tightening with tension. She had to resist the urge to wince. Though entirely different in circumstance, she felt slight vindication for his fear, no matter how fleeting. She’d take what little wins she could get. 
She was pulled back to reality by the tug of his hand, and let him lead her to the couch across from the host. Fuck. Looking out at the crowd, she remembered how much she really did hate these things. Hundreds of smiling faces, millions more behind the camera, all glinting with pity–for all the wrong reasons–and cooing at the sickeningly sweet story spun for the masses to cling to with glee, without question.
There was a call of her name, “And, how are you adjusting? After what you’ve been through,” What she’s been through. She suppressed a bitter laugh. As if it was all over, as if she was safe. 
“It’s been hard, of course,” She’d rehearsed the lines in the mirror, and recited variations in numerous interviews before, “But I’m so grateful, you know,” That didn’t stop the tears that fought their way up her throat, “To have him by my side–he really is–he really,” God, the words felt like acid on her tongue, “He really is my hero.”
The crowd awed, and the host brought a hand to her chest, “How beautiful,” She caught his side eye–suspicious–and she squeezed his hand in reassurance, “The two of you–really the silver lining in an otherwise horrible happenstance.”
She laughed lightly, ignoring the burn in her chest, “I’m so grateful. I don’t know what–I couldn’t imagine what I’d do without him.” She moved to wrap her arm around his own, leaning into his shoulder. Time had conditioned the contact to feel like a sort of comfort.
The host smiled, and turned back to ask him a question, something about how he’d found her, how he’d saved her.
How had he found her? She remembered meeting him a few times before–she’d worked for the number one hero, his childhood friend–and he’d never spared her more than a cursory glance, and the exchange of brief, formal pleasantries while she sat in on their meetings, transcribing, taking notes, just doing her job. 
“Was just doin’ my job,” Ha. Ironic. “S’what heroes do.” He looked at her for a moment, softly, and she wanted to tear his eyes out, “We save people and we fuckin’ win.” He gave his signature sharp, crooked smile, and the audience roared to life, hands clapping in misguided awe and appreciation.
How had he found her? What did she have that the millions of men and women and people that wanted him–that dreamed of him–didn’t? She wished she could erase it–tear out whatever part of her had captured his attention–maybe he’d have left her alone if she’d been able to kill it.
“The determination, the grit it must’ve taken,” The host started up again, “Years of searching, it’s truly amazing how you managed to save her.” 
How had he saved her? He liked to remind her that that’s what he had done. She remembered being called into work late–a normal occurrence, but she still cursed herself for obliging that day–being met, not by her boss, but him. Maybe she would have said yes if he’d gone about it differently–if he’d taken her out on a date, brought her flowers, spoke to her softly and gently–but he wasn’t ever soft, and he wasn’t ever gentle.
“M’not a fuckin’ pussy, that’s how. I ain’t backin’ down from a challenge just ‘cause it’s hard.” Yeah. He never backed down from a challenge. Though, he never stopped to think that maybe a challenge was not a dare, not something to overcome, that maybe the challenge didn’t want to be a challenge at all. That this challenge didn’t want to be a conquest, that she wanted to be a person.
“And you,” The attention was back on her, “How strong you are,” She hated that look; everyone she met these days gave her that look, “The fear and pain you must’ve endured is unimaginable.” Well, she was half right, she supposed. 
She was stupid to think she knew pain before–she didn’t know pain–not the kind of pain she’d come to call home these past years. The type of pain that came in the form of finger shaped burns, and ugly sticky white staining the inside of her thighs. The type of pain that was loud and angry and all consuming, that bruised her hips, rubbed her throat raw, left her aching and shaking and breaking. The type of pain that took and took and took until there was nothing left of her to give–and yet, still took more.
“Hopefully there’s some consolation,” The woman continued at her silence, “That the people who did this to you–who imprisoned you–have faced justice.”
She wanted to laugh until she screamed. She’d long been disillusioned with the idea of justice. Justice. Ha. What a joke. She’d made her peace with the hand she’d been dealt. Resigned herself to what cruel fate the god she didn’t believe in had bestowed upon her. Why then, why now, had he graced her with a window to her prison? She knew why. Subconsciously, her hand fell to trace along her stomach.
“It’s…relieving, to say the least.” She forced a laugh, and caught a look she took as approval on her warden’s face. “All I want to do now is settle down, move on…” She swallowed. Come on. You’ve done this a million times. “Start our family.”
He took his arm from her grip to wrap around her shoulders, flashing a sharp smile, “That’s my fuckin’ girl,” Her cheeks heated–more from annoyance than embarrassment–but the crowd awed all the same. “Strongest damn person I’ve ever met.”
Strong? That was a new one. Usually she’d get the opposite; weak, helpless, quirkless. Was she strong? She could find a million reasons to contradict the idea. Someone strong would’ve fought, would’ve kicked and screamed and cried until someone–anyone–listened to her, until she truly was free. She’d rolled over and shown her belly so easily, hadn’t she?
No. She did fight. She’d gone through all the kicking and screaming and crying she could. But the years had worn her down. She found it was easier–and less painful–to let him have his way. He could be soft when he had his way; he could be gentle when he had his way; she decided she liked it when he was soft and gentle. And so, he had his way.
Still. Someone, not her, could make the case that she couldn’t be strong at all, to go along with this farce. And to this person she’d point them to–
“The Hero Commission truly is an outstanding institution,” The universe had a sick sense of humor, didn’t it? “To keep a case like this–no leads–open so long,” The host smiled a smile with too many teeth, “We are so lucky to have the protection from such noble leaders.”
He replied, something about heroes and how great and strong and infallible they were. She was too busy fantasizing about how lovely the world would’ve been had it been turned to ash and dust all those years ago. 
Because, honestly. How bad could the villains be? If it was a hero that had imprisoned her. A hero who had stolen her from her life and raped her and impregnated her all in the name of love. How bad could the villains be if it was the heroes who kept her trapped in this joke of a life? She decided she liked villains more than heroes. At the very least, they owned up to their crimes. 
She turned to look at him, his sharp features, built like a tank, and yet, still entirely too pretty for the devastation he had wrought upon her. She couldn’t tell if he was a hero or a villain. She couldn’t tell if she hated him or if she loved him. 
“I ain’t into all that sappy shit,” He started, “But, end of the day, I’m the luckiest fucker in the world havin’ her here with me. Wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”
Both? Maybe it was both. Could you hate someone you loved? Could you love someone you hated? He lifted his arm to ruffle her hair, and she decided it didn’t matter. She’d long resigned herself to this fate; what was another resignation?
“No,” She turned as the audience roared to life, “Not a single thing.”
And she smiled for the camera.
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