vale ⋆˚꩜｡

Extra bonus! A little reference I made for how they all wear their uniforms so I could keep track of that hehe

Kobra has this look on his face like he's about commit a crime.

All swagger and teeth, leaning in the doorway of the trans am like he's in some pre-war movie poster.

"You know," he says, voice dropping low, "You should feel lucky I even let you this close to me."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm dangerous. Real bad news. Could ruin you."

The delivery is so stiff it sounds like he practiced it in the mirror.

You bite your lip. Hard.

He steps closer, fingers hooking in your belt loops like he's trying to be intimidating. "I'm gonna make you beg."

That's it.

You snort.

You try to hide it, you really do, but it bubbles out of you like a soda fizz. Shoulders shaking with a full-on laugh.

He freezes.

"...What?"

"Nothing," you wheeze, "I'm sorry- It's just- You sound like a cartoon villain."

"I do not."

"I'm gonna ruin you?" you mimic, badly deepening your voice. "Fear me, citizen."

His face goes red all the way to his ears. “Shut up.”

“Were you practicing that?”

“No- Okay, maybe a little- That’s not the point.”

You’re still laughing, and now he’s flustered, his hands coming up to cover your mouth as if he can physically stop it.

“Stop laughing at me,” he mutters, mortified. “I’m trying to be hot.”

“You are hot,” you grin, softer now. “You’re just… really bad at being mean.”

There’s a second where he just stares at you, embarrassed and stubborn and way too cute for someone trying to be threatening.

Then something shifts.

His grip tightens.

Less performance. More real.

He pulls you in by the waist, forehead knocking against yours, voice rough and low and suddenly not rehearsed at all.

“Yeah? Then maybe I’ll just stop talking.”

Oh.

That works a lot better.

The teasing grin you had melts fast when he kisses you like he’s got something to prove. It's messy and desperate, hands everywhere like he’s forgotten every dumb line he tried to memorize.

You’re the one being pushed further into the back seat of the car now.

He mumbles against your mouth, breathless, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Not laughing,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his jacket. “Promise.”

The rest gets lost between tangled limbs, hot desert air, and the windows fogging up way too fast.

later, when you’re both flushed and quiet and catching your breath, he hides his face in your shoulder and mutters,

“Never bringing out the dirty talk again.”

You smile, kissing his temple.

“Please do. It’s my favorite part.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Kobra has this look on his face like he's about commit a crime.

All swagger and teeth, leaning in the doorway of the trans am like he's in some pre-war movie poster.

"You know," he says, voice dropping low, "You should feel lucky I even let you this close to me."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm dangerous. Real bad news. Could ruin you."

The delivery is so stiff it sounds like he practiced it in the mirror.

You bite your lip. Hard.

He steps closer, fingers hooking in your belt loops like he's trying to be intimidating. "I'm gonna make you beg."

That's it.

You snort.

You try to hide it, you really do, but it bubbles out of you like a soda fizz. Shoulders shaking with a full-on laugh.

He freezes.

"...What?"

"Nothing," you wheeze, "I'm sorry- It's just- You sound like a cartoon villain."

"I do not."

"I'm gonna ruin you?" you mimic, badly deepening your voice. "Fear me, citizen."

His face goes red all the way to his ears. “Shut up.”

“Were you practicing that?”

“No- Okay, maybe a little- That’s not the point.”

You’re still laughing, and now he’s flustered, his hands coming up to cover your mouth as if he can physically stop it.

“Stop laughing at me,” he mutters, mortified. “I’m trying to be hot.”

“You are hot,” you grin, softer now. “You’re just… really bad at being mean.”

There’s a second where he just stares at you, embarrassed and stubborn and way too cute for someone trying to be threatening.

Then something shifts.

His grip tightens.

Less performance. More real.

He pulls you in by the waist, forehead knocking against yours, voice rough and low and suddenly not rehearsed at all.

“Yeah? Then maybe I’ll just stop talking.”

Oh.

That works a lot better.

The teasing grin you had melts fast when he kisses you like he’s got something to prove. It's messy and desperate, hands everywhere like he’s forgotten every dumb line he tried to memorize.

You’re the one being pushed further into the back seat of the car now.

He mumbles against your mouth, breathless, “Don’t laugh at me.”

“Not laughing,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his jacket. “Promise.”

The rest gets lost between tangled limbs, hot desert air, and the windows fogging up way too fast.

later, when you’re both flushed and quiet and catching your breath, he hides his face in your shoulder and mutters,

“Never bringing out the dirty talk again.”

You smile, kissing his temple.

“Please do. It’s my favorite part.”

“Don’t you dare.”