#I have been collecting these posts for months and now I have finally been able to create this

[littledykeblue]

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐/𝟒: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐍)

──𝐌𝐘 𝐏.𝐔.𝐍.𝐊. 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋;

(frontman!jinx x groupie!reader): you are what some people would call obsessive about your favorite band; and you finally get the chance to realize all of your dreams when you end up in the home of jinx lanes.

PART ONE HERE!

wc: 9k | cw: lead vocalist!jinx, loser groupie!reader, generally rough sex, dom bottom!jinx, biting, hair-pulling, dacryphillia, begging, rope play (r! tied up), vibrator (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), oral sex (r! & j!receiving), overstim, edging, dry humping, piercings, MINORS DNI.

note: i was wayyy to eager to get to jinx's part so i gotta do it now! vi is up next and im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. also holy shit somebody was getting Freaky writing this.

You would confidently dub yourself Hotwired’s biggest fan. You’ve been around since the very beginning, back when they were just two sisters in their dad’s garage, crafting the songs that would one day become their greatest hits. You were at their first ever show (at a shitty bar with a busted PA system), and you’ve kept every single ticket stub since. 

When they brought on the mysterious, masked C.K., you were there. When they had a brief fallout, cancelled their slot at Riot Fest, and went offline for six months? You were there. For every single bit of the whole stealing Sevika from her old band, Blood Feud, you were right there in every thread and underneath every discussion post.

Your collection of signed merch is practically priceless now, stuff newer fans would probably commit crimes for. You run a well-known fan blog that’s updated religiously, mostly dedicated to the band’s chaotic, blue-haired frontwoman: Jinx.

Your bedroom is a shrine. Posters on every wall, records lined up on your shelves, a glass case dedicated to your wristbands and setlists and polaroids. Everyone who knows you is beyond tired of hearing about them, and especially tired of hearing about her.

Jinx Lanes. All attitude, no brakes. She says what she wants, does what she wants, flips off the cameras while doing it. You’ve seen every stage interview, every grainy fan clip, every viral moment where she’s either flashing the crowd or starting a fake fight with Vi for fun. She’s a full-on nightmare and you are obsessed. You’ve got painfully vivid daydreams where she picks you out of the crowd, grins that feral little grin, and takes you home to ruin your life in the best possible way.

Unfortunately, that fantasy’s still just that. A fantasy.

You go to every show, sure, but it’s not like you’re balling on VIP money. If it’s not your birthday or some kind of Hotwired-related anniversary, you’re usually stuck somewhere in the middle of the crowd. Lost in the sea of people screaming her name. Completely invisible.

You’ve accepted it, mostly. The truth that the girl you’ve spent years loving from afar probably doesn’t even know you exist. And if she does? You’re just another fan. Another face in the crowd.

But the thing about Jinx is, she’s never been great at sticking to the script.

Your first actual meeting with her (outside of the brief signings where you were quickly ushered away to make room for the ridiculously long lines) is not nearly as glamorous as in any of your many, many daydreams. 

It’s early afternoon, middle of the week, and you’re leaning against your car, waiting for your latest post to upload, when you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up, ready to size up whoever’s headed your way—only to nearly choke on your own spit.

Standing in front of you is Jinx. Jinx fucking Lanes.

She’s got on these huge sunglasses and a spiked beret; neither do a great job at hiding who she is. Though, you like to think you’d be able to recognize her in a heartbeat either way. She’s looking up at you over the rim of the glasses with those big blue-gray eyes.

“Hey, could you do me a huge favor?” she asks, barely giving you time to react. “So, like—I’m kinda famous, and these annoying-ass guys have been following me around trying to get a picture. Normally I’d just cause a scene and smash their gear, but apparently I’m supposed to be on my best behavior or whatever. Look, I’ll give you a hundred bucks.”

She talks fast, like the words are trying to outrun each other, and you’re pretty sure you only catch about half of what she actually says.

“You’re…you’re Jinx Lanes,” you manage to get out, brain still buffering.

Her shoulders drop a little and her arms cross defensively, like she’s bracing for impact. “Yep. That’s me. You gonna sell me out?”

“No! No, of course not,” you blurt out, instantly panicked at the idea. “I’m just—I’m a huge fan. You’re literally my number one artist. I think you’re a brilliant songwriter—”

“Think I’m brilliant enough to give me a ride?”

Right. Right. You remember the whole reason this conversation is even happening and nod so fast it might give you whiplash. “Oh my god. Yes. Of course. Sorry. I’m just—this is kind of insane. Get in, please.”

You know you’re talking too fast and probably too loud, and your heart feels like it’s turning into soup in your chest. This is not how you imagined this moment going. You’re supposed to be in the perfect outfit, front row, stage lights casting that soft glow, and Jinx points to you mid-song during Pretty Punk Girl, so taken by your killer look and smooth moves that she hauls you on stage.

Instead, she’s climbing into your car, and you’re cringing as her boot knocks over some half-empty water bottle and an embarrassing tangle of receipts and snack wrappers. So much for the cool, effortless fantasy.

Whatever. Sue you for not being perfect.

You pull out of the parking lot with slightly trembling hands, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that Jinx is in your passenger seat. Your initial plan had just been to go home, maybe heat up leftovers and reblog a few photos of Hotwired’s last show. But now?

Now your number one obsession is sprawled out beside you like this is no big deal. You suppose that, maybe for her, it really isn’t. You’re not entirely sure whether your should be impressed or deeply concerned with how easily she got into the car with a stranger.

You hesitate at the first red light, your blinker ticking away as you try to stall and think of somewhere else to go. You can’t just…take her back to your place. That would be insane. Not because you’re ashamed or anything—everyone who knows you knows you’re obsessed—but there’s a difference between being a dedicated fan and opening the door to what’s basically a museum of her face.

That kind of devotion might be just a little much in person.

You risk a glance out of the corner of your eye and immediately regret it. Jinx has her boots kicked up on the dash, scuffed black leather creaking slightly as she adjusts. Her legs are bare and pale and stretch impossibly long out from the cut-offs she’s wearing. Your gaze drifts up to where her low-slung shorts sit, a few teasing inches of toned stomach peeking out under her cropped tee. Ink clouds curl around her navel, disappearing into the waistband. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

She's busy on her phone, thumb flying across the screen with streaks of chipped pink and blue polish. Completely unaware—or at least pretending not to notice—that you’re openly staring like a deer in headlights.

You clear your throat quickly, whipping your head forward as the light flips green. “So, uh…where exactly should I be going?”

“Right. Lemme just—” she leans over, not even asking before tapping on your car’s GPS with all the casual confidence of someone who doesn’t hear the internal screaming going on beside her. “There.”

You glance down at the glowing screen, squinting at the address. “Is that…your house?”

“Yep.” She pops the p, still tapping away on her phone. “Hope you don’t mind playing chauffeur for a bit. I’ll even give you five stars.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say, like your brain isn’t short-circuiting. “No problem. Totally normal day.”

Jinx finishes typing something out on her phone and tosses it carelessly into the cupholder. Then she leans back, kicking her boots off the dash and turning her head toward you. "Play something," she says.

You glance at her. “Anything you’re in the mood for?”

Jinx hums. “I dunno. Surprise me.”

You hesitate for half a second before asking, “Are you opposed to hearing your own stuff?”

“God, no,” she scoffs, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I love the sound of my own voice.”

You huff a laugh and scroll through your playlist until you find the first track in the “Hotwired: Timefracture Saga” queue. You don’t hesitate to hit play.

The opening guitar riff of Parallel Hearts spills into the car and Jinx perks up immediately, grinning like you just handed her a slice of cake. “Oooh, you’re going deep cuts on me, huh?”

“I’m committed to the bit,” you say, trying to sound cool and not like you’re slowly melting into the driver's seat. The idea of singing Jinx’s song in front of her in real life? Literally unreal. Your hands are already sweating.

But then the first verse starts and your body knows what to do. You belt it out with the kind of confidence that only comes from listening to a song approximately nine thousand times. To your amazement, Jinx doesn’t just let you carry it. She joins in with all the same energy she brings on stage.

The two of you blast through the first two songs—Parallel Hearts and Phantom Frequency—loud and off-key and gloriously dramatic. When the final chorus ends, Jinx turns in her seat to look at you, visibly impressed.

“Okay, wow,” she says, a little breathless. “You maybe you really are my biggest fan.”

You shrug like it’s not the best compliment you’ve ever received. “Yeah, I mean, I kinda know everything there is to know.”

That gets a raised brow. Jinx smirks, already shifting in her seat like she’s ready to stir shit. “Everything?”

You nod. Maybe a little smug.

“Alright, fan club president,” she says, cracking her knuckles. “Pop quiz time. Let’s see if you’re full of shit.”

You don’t even blink.

She fires off the first question. “What city did we play our first sold-out show in?”

“New Orleans,” you say immediately. “At a place called The Violet Room. You jumped off the drum kit and nearly broke your ankle. It was the first time you guys ever performed Despair Girls live. It was magical.”

“Fuck, all of that’s true,” she mutters, almost to herself. “Okay. What’s Vi’s pre-show ritual?”

“She does five push-ups and kisses her guitar. That’s child’s play.”

Jinx laughs. “Okay, try this one out. What’s the first song I’ve ever written?”

“Easy. I Love You, Dad. You wrote it when you were thirteen for your dad’s birthday and you and Vi performed it for him. If I recall correctly, there were tears?”

“Holy. Shit.” She flops back against the seat and looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. “You should be like an interviewer or some shit. Wait…are you an interviewer? Tabloid?”

You shake your head. “Nah. Just a fan,” you answer, drumming your fingers on the wheel to the song playing quietly now. “I found you guys pretty early on, when it was just you and Vi. I was hooked from then.”

“Alright, alright. One more. Let’s see if you know this one,” she says, leaning in like this one is going to be her real ace up the sleeve. “What is C.K.’s real identity?”

“Oh, come on! Nobody knows that except you guys and even that’s me speculating!”

She throws her head back and laughs, wild and delighted and loud, and for a second you feel a weird flutter of something between adrenaline and affection. “I know, I know. I just had to get one over on ya. I don’t like to lose, superfan.”

You can’t help but join in on her laughter. Then, you feel the sudden need to explain yourself. “I-I hope you don’t think I’m some kinda freak, now. Like, I’m not gonna turn into some crazy stalker or anything. I believe in ethical obsession…with your music! And your whole persona.”

“Nah,” she says, grinning out the window. “Kinda hot, actually.”

Eventually, the road curves around a sharp bend and there it is: a tall iron gate flanked by brick pillars, ringed with ivy, with a small keypad mounted on the side. You ease to a stop in front of it, unsure of what comes next, until Jinx leans fully across the center console to punch in the code herself. Her body brushes yours and you go rigid on instinct, hands glued to your lap as if moving them might set off some kind of alarm.

Her weight is warm, surprisingly solid. You keep your eyes forward but your gaze betrays you, flicking down to take in the bare skin of her lower back as her cropped shirt rides up. A little tattoo rests there, inked just above the waistband of her low-slung shorts. 

You recognize it immediately. It’s the grinning robotic monkey from Hotwired’s first album cover. It’s crude in a way that feels personal, a perfect fit for her. You catch a whiff of her perfume as she leans over you, warm and sweet, cinnamon-spiced and dizzying. It makes your fingers twitch where they’re clenched, white-knuckled, against your thighs.

Just when you think your heart might give out from sheer sensory overload, Jinx pulls away and settles back in her seat. “Full speed ahead,” she says, casually, and you try to follow that directive but end up hitting the gas a little too hard. The car jerks forward before you recover, easing up and offering a weak laugh. She doesn’t say anything about it, but you catch her smirk from the corner of your eye.

The gates swing open and you cruise slowly up the long, curved driveway. At the top of the hill, her house comes into view. Less mansion, more mini palace. Sleek, modern lines dressed up in stone and glass, surrounded by manicured hedges and little bursts of wildflowers. From the outside, it doesn’t scream rockstar, but the gated privacy and oversized front door definitely whisper it.

You park at the top and cut the engine, hands hovering awkwardly as Jinx climbs out. She stretches with a groan, then slams the door shut and starts heading toward the entrance. Halfway there, she turns and sees you still frozen in the driver's seat. She lifts her arms with an incredulous little laugh.

“You coming, or are you gonna sit there until I drag you out?”

That shakes you loose. You hop out, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary, trying not to let your nerves show. Jinx jogs the rest of the way up and punches in a different code at the front door before swinging it open. She steps inside first and flicks on a light.

The interior hits you like a wall of color and chaos. It’s loud and messy and perfect, a curated kind of maximalism that looks like someone raided every vintage shop in a tri-county radius and made it work through force of will. 

Sunken couches in mismatched colors, shag rugs layered over each other like someone couldn’t choose, neon signs and lava lamps and velvet posters that are definitely original prints. There’s an old jukebox in the corner that might actually work and a huge blown-up shot of the band’s first Rolling Stone cover takes up half the wall behind the couch. You see guitars hung like art and a massive wall-mounted shadowbox of ticket stubs, backstage passes, and little bits of confetti sealed in resin. A few shelves are crammed with Hotwired memorabilia, some of it rare enough that you actually gasp a little.

Jinx sweeps her arm out in a grand, over-the-top flourish. “Welcome to the madhouse. Make yourself at home.”

You step in cautiously, like you’re walking through the most holy of places. It’s hard to believe any of this is even remotely real; you sneak and pinch the back of your hand, praying you don’t suddenly wake up. 

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. All you can think is: holy shit, you’re in Jinx’s house.

You can't help yourself. The second Jinx gives the okay, you're flitting from corner to corner like a sugar-high kid let loose in a toy store. There’s just so much to take in. 

You zero in on a glass display case near the stairs, pressing your hands to the glass as you stare down at what looks like one of Jinx’s stage costumes from their third tour—the blue leather jacket with the jagged, mismatched patches and the “KISS ME, COWARD” painted across the back. “This is from the Bright Lights, Bloody Knuckles tour,” you say, breath catching. “You wore this in Chicago and then again in Paris, but the patch on the left shoulder wasn’t torn off until the Tokyo show so it’s the only one sewn on with red thread. Vi’s work, I’m assuming.”

You’re not really assuming. You know this as fact.

Jinx whistles low. “Damn. I still can’t believe you know your shit like this.”

You glance over your shoulder, sheepish, but your feet are already carrying you to the next treasure. There’s a line of guitars, none of them in cases, just propped up like art along the back wall. One of them is Jinx’s first—a cherry red Gretsch with cracked lacquer and band stickers peeling at the edges. Another is Vi’s, the body all scratched up and scuffed from a thousand drunken stage dives. 

You spot a limited run vinyl from one of your other favorite punk bands and let out an embarrassing little gasp. “Wait, can I just ask: was the whole Hollow Vow/Hotwired friendship real? Or were you guys playing it up for the camera?” you ask, pointing.

“Fuck yeah,” Jinx grins. “You probably already know this, but they were the first legit band to give us a chance. Let us open for them and shit. Total weirdos. Great energy.”

There’s a wall-mounted rack of signed magazine covers—Spin, Rolling Stone, NME, even Teen Vogue, from that one brief moment where Hotwired was just two teenage girls making their way across the west coast. “That cover got us so much hate mail,” Jinx says, sidling up behind you. “You’d think we pissed on someone’s grandma.”

You laugh, almost nervously, finally starting to feel a little more grounded in the whirlwind that is her house. But then you realize how much you've been talking, how fast, and how completely unhinged you probably sound. You snap your mouth shut before you can rattle off which Spin article has your favorite quote.

When you glance back at Jinx, she’s watching you. Just looking, head tilted like she's figuring you out. And then, casually as anything, she says, “You wanna go for a dip?”

You blink at her. “What?”

“Hottub,” she replies, already turning toward a side door that you hadn’t even noticed before. “Consider it part of my payment for the ride. I’m going either way, so if you wanna come, bring your fine little trivia brain with you.”

“I don’t—I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” you say, instinctively glancing down at yourself like one might spontaneously materialize.”Not really a, uh, car essential.”

Jinx scoffs, her smirk practically criminal. “So? Get naked. I’m not shy.”

The very idea has your brain going horribly blank. You go visibly stiff, body locking up entirely against your will. She laughs—loud and genuine.

“Okay, okay. Jesus,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “You can just go in your underwear. I’ve got robes and a dryer. It’s not a big deal.”

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The idea of being that close, in so little, with her is almost enough to make you reconsider. But you’re not dumb enough to pass this up. An honest to god once in a lifetime possibility was just dropped into your lap and you would never be able to forgive yourself should you let it slip through your fingers. 

You nod, slow and shaky, then offer a small, breathless, “Okay.”

Jinx gives you a look like she’s thoroughly amused by your entire existence. “Cool. You can go ahead, I’ll be there in a sec..” She disappears up the grand staircase, taking them two at a time and you just stand there for a beat, silently trying to remember how to walk.

You strip down to your underwear in the living room, folding your clothes into a neat little stack on the edge of the couch like that somehow makes this entire situation feel less insane. At least you wore something cute. Matching set, soft cotton, nothing too showy but still enough that you won’t die of embarrassment. 

You head through the door Jinx showed you just moments ago and find a stone hottub that looks like it probably cost a small fortune. There’s chairs surrounding it and the whole thing overlooks the equally stunning pool. 

The evening air is cool but not cold, and you’re grateful for it when you climb the short steps and settle into the hot tub’s edge.

You turn the jets on, feeling them whir to life beneath your legs, and sink in. The water is still warming up but it feels nice, soothing the weird ache in your limbs from how tense you’ve been since Jinx got in your car. You keep your arms propped on the edge, head tilted back, eyes on the stars above because it’s easier than staring down the panic creeping up your spine.

Then you hear the door slide open.

You glance up and immediately forget how to breathe.

Jinx steps outside holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. She’s changed, if you could call it that. Her bikini is leopard print and tiny, and very, very familiar. You recognize it instantly from the “Trashy Punk Drunk” music video where she sang an entire verse while riding a mechanical shark. Seeing it in person, on her body, is borderline unfair.

“Like what you see?” she asks, already grinning as she gives you a slow, exaggerated twirl. The light catches on her pale skin, almost giving her an otherworldly glow. You catch a glimpse of the small navel ring you hadn’t noticed before, the dip of her hips, the tattoo wrapping her rib cage.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“You look—uh. Nice,” you manage, mentally kicking yourself as the words come out. “Really, um. Good. Like...sexy. Really sexy.”

Jinx barks out a laugh, delighted, and finally hands you a glass before she steps into the water. “I knew you were cute, but this is adorable.” She taps the rim of your flute with hers and then sinks into the hot tub beside you, head tipping back with a satisfied sigh as the bubbles start to build around her. “You’re lucky I’m such a sucker for awkward.”

You take a long sip of champagne and try not to combust.

She reaches over to set the temperature gauge a few degrees higher, her fingers dancing casually across the digital screen, and then she settles in with her arms outstretched along the back of the tub. One arm brushes against yours. It takes every ounce of your self-control not to flinch.

“So,” she says, eyes flicking your way with a lazy smirk, “you come here often?” Despite it obviously being a joke, her voice still comes out as a purr that sends a shameful wave of arousal through you. It’s a good thing you’re already wet. 

You let out a breath and do your best to match her casual. “Can’t say that I do.”

Jinx hums, pleased, and takes another slow sip. “Glad you are.”

You take another sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles fizzle down your throat, and risk a glance at Jinx from the corner of your eye. Her legs are kicked up in the water, toes just breaking the surface, and her head is resting lazily against the lip of the hot tub. She looks...content. Maybe a little tired, in that way people get when they’ve finally exhaled after holding their breath for too long.

You turn toward her a bit. “Hey, can I ask you something kind of personal?”

Jinx cracks one eye open. “Shoot.”

“Do you, like...regularly invite strangers into your house? Or am I, like, special?”

She huffs a small laugh and stretches her arms behind her head, chest lifting slightly above the bubbling water. “Not usually. Though, to be fair, I make a lot of bad choices. So the answer’s not always no.” She glances over at you, smile crooked. “You were adorable, though. And passionate. And you don’t really seem like the psycho killer type yet. You haven’t even asked me for an autograph yet and you’re my little superfan..”

You laugh, flustered but warm. “I try.”

Jinx shrugs a shoulder, her expression softening. “And...I dunno. It’s been a minute since I’ve talked to someone who wasn’t in my band or working PR or trying to sleep with ‘Jinx Lanes.’” Her voice lowers slightly, sincerity bleeding through. “You’re very easy to be around.”

You nod. “You’re pretty cool like this, too. Just so you know.”

She nudges her shoulder into yours, that playful grin finding its way back. “Flatterer.”

You grin right back, nerves slowly unspooling.

“Wanna know something only, like, two people know about me?” she asks after a beat, turning a little more toward you, her leg brushing yours under the water. “A little treat to add to your endless trivia?”

“Obviously.”

She leans in conspiratorially, her voice a half-whisper like someone might be listening. “I actually graduated with a degree in astrophysics.”

Your jaw drops. “No shit?”

“No shit,” she says proudly, lifting her glass in a little cheers to herself. “Top of my class, too.”

You blink. “Wait—what? How did you go from literal rocket science to fronting a punk rock band?”

Jinx’s smile dims just a little, not sad exactly—more nostalgic. “Vi. I always thought she’d do something like this. Big stage, screaming fans, y’know? When the band started getting traction, she didn’t want to do it alone. In fact, said she’d only go for it with me. And I figured...why the hell not? I’d already chased one dream. Why not try another if it meant doing it with my sister?”

“That’s actually amazing,” you say, your voice softer now. “How’d you manage to keep that one under wraps?”

“Oh, I looked a hell of a lot different then and, obviously, my real name’s not Jinx Lanes.” 

“You know, you’re making it really hard not to idolize you,” you whisper. And you’re not really sure why you’re whispering. It may have something to do with just how close Jinx is to you. “Not—not in, like, a weird way. Just, uh, just like the normal amount. Because you’re so cool and so pretty and now I know you’re, like, a genius and stuff and…yeah.”

There’s a pause.

You’re both looking at each other, water bubbling around you, glasses half full and the night wrapping its arms around the deck in a quiet hush. Jinx’s eyes are a little softer than usual, lips parted slightly as if caught between a smile and something else. You think she might say something, but instead, she just leans in.

And you meet her halfway.

The kiss is slow and warm, hesitant at first like neither of you is sure how long it’s been coming. Her lips taste like champagne and spearmint, and the second your hand drifts up to cup her cheek, she sighs into it. “I do so very like being worshiped,” she says against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip.

Jinx floats over into your lap like she belongs there, legs slung carelessly over one of your thighs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Her hands find your chest, sliding over the swell of your breasts through damp fabric, fingers curling and groping with open hunger. 

She kisses you again, but this time there’s no testing the waters. It’s harder, hotter, more desperate. Her mouth is demanding and slick with champagne, her hips beginning to roll slow and deliberate against your leg. The friction is minimal, but it’s enough to have her sighing into your mouth like she’s already halfway there.

Emboldened by the way she reacts to every tiny movement, you let your hand settle at her hip. The soft give of her flesh beneath your fingers is dizzying, and she doesn’t stop you when you guide her hips, encouraging the rhythm she’s building on your thigh. The way her body grinds down is enough to send heat pooling between your own legs. 

Your other hand moves up without thinking, sliding along her back and up to the base of her neck, where you find the thick roots of those signature twin braids. You grab them—not tight, not yet—but it’s enough to feel them in your grip.

Jinx pulls back just far enough to look at you, eyes bright and wild, lips swollen from the kiss. “If you’re gonna yank ‘em,” she says, her voice hoarse. “Do it hard.”

You hesitate for only a moment, unsure of your own strength, terrified you might misjudge the line and snap the tension in the wrong direction. You give a test tug, just enough to jolt her head back a little, just enough that your mouths part by a fraction. 

But it’s clearly not enough. She lets out a frustrated sound, half growl, half moan, and then she’s crashing back into you, teeth scraping against your lower lip, biting hard enough to draw the sharp tang of blood.

You gasp at the sting, the warmth of it on your tongue, and your fingers clench on reflex. You yank harder, and her head jerks back with a gasp that melts into a laugh, her grin feral. She’s loving this. She’s completely out of her mind with it. You loop one of her braids around your fist and drag her back down into another kiss that’s messier than the last, all spit and tongue and aching need.

Her hips grind down with reckless abandon now, sloshing water over the edge of the tub as her pace stutters. Jinx lets out a broken, breathy cry against your mouth, every muscle in her body going taut. You can feel the tremor in her thighs, the way her whole frame shudders, and your only thought is that you did this. You hold her like that, letting her ride it out, letting her fall apart against you until she’s gasping and trembling and grinning like the devil.

When she finally pulls back, she rests her forehead against yours. Her breath ghosts across your lips, heavy and hot, and her grin is still sharp enough to slice you open. “You’re not so shy anymore, are you?”

You don’t even have words. You’re drunk on adrenaline, dazed and reeling because your idol—your ultimate fantasy—just used your thigh to come. Nothing in your entire life will ever top this.

Jinx leans in close, nipping once more at your bottom lip. “How would you like to take this up to my bedroom?”

You nod, unable to form a proper response to the question.

Jinx hops off your lap and out of the hottub; she can’t get you out behind her quick enough it seems. “Come on,” she says, breathless and giddy, already halfway to the stairs. “Upstairs. Now.”

You stumble after her, legs still shaky, heart trying to catch up. She takes the steps two at a time, half-dragging you in her excitement. You follow with much less grace, feet squelching with every wet step the two of you take.

“Jinx,” you call, panting a little, “we’re still soaked. There’s a literal trail behind us.”

She glances over her shoulder, completely unconcerned. “So? I’ve got a cleaner. Don’t care.” Her eyes flash mischievously. “Besides, maybe I like it better wet.”

You pass wet footprints and little drops of water marking your path, but she doesn’t slow down. You barely catch the door to her bedroom swinging open before she pulls you through it and kicks it shut behind you.

The room is big, chaotic in the way only Jinx’s space could be. Her bedroom is exactly as chaotic and stylish as the rest of the house. But the bed is huge, practically a stage in itself. Thick, crushed velvet sheets stretch over it in deep, electric blue, glowing faintly under the dim lighting. You don’t even want to think about how expensive they probably are.

You hesitate, standing awkwardly at the foot of it, still very aware of how wet your skin is, how your soaked underwear sticks to your body. 

“These are fresh sheets,” you say. “Jinx, seriously—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, already pulling at the knot of her swimsuit bottoms. “You’re cute when you worry about stuff like that.” 

The bottoms peel away from her skin with a soft, sticky sound and hit the floor. She peels off her top next, tossing it in the same direction. And suddenly, she’s naked in front of you, skin flushed, thighs slick, nipples pierced with silver barbells that catch the light.

Your mouth actually falls open.

“Oh, that got your attention,” Jinx teases, climbing up onto the bed on her knees. Her breasts bounce lightly as she moves, each piercing a little glint of danger and temptation. “I’ve got one more, by the way. Wanna see?”

You can’t even answer. You just nod.

She crawls across the bed with unhurried confidence, her knees dragging soft ruts in the velvet as she makes her way to you. You stay frozen until she pushes you back, until your spine hits the mattress and your underwear makes a soft squish against the sheets.

She straddles your hips, and your hands come up instinctively to her thighs—warm, strong, slick where she was grinding earlier.

“Eyes up,” she says with a crooked grin, as she shuffles up your body, her heat growing stronger the closer she gets to your chest…your throat…your mouth.

Then you see it.

Right at the peak of her slick folds, nestled against the swollen pink of her clit, is a small silver ball. Your breath hitches hard enough to make your vision blur.

“Still speechless?” she asks, teasing, hips hovering just above your mouth now. “God, you’re so easy.”

You try to form a reply, but you’re already craning your neck, already reaching up to meet her.

Jinx lowers herself with no hesitation. One hand braces against the wall behind the bed, the other gripping the headboard for leverage as she sinks down onto your mouth, full and flush.

Her taste hits you instantly as her thighs press firm against your cheeks, framing your head. You let your hands settle on her hips, fingers curling tight.

She gasps, loud and unfiltered, then lets out a broken laugh. “Fuck. Okay. Okay, yeah, that’s good.”

The pressure of her against your mouth is intense—your nose buried against her, the piercing rubbing slick against your tongue. Every time she rolls her hips, that little ball brushes you just right. She’s so wet already, and her pace starts unsteady before she finds a rhythm, grinding slow and deep.

You moan into her and feel her thighs tense.

“Damn,” she pants, looking down at you with wild eyes, braid tips brushing your chest. “You keep that up and I’m gonna fall in love or something.”

Your only response is a groan, muffled against her, too far gone to care.

Jinx laughs again, more breath than sound, and plants herself fully down. “Go on then. Let’s see how long I can last.”

You take a steady breath through your nose before burying yourself in her, licking with a wide tongue across the expanse of her pussy. It pulls a cute squeal from her lips and she clenches her legs a little harder around you head. You set a steady pace, making sure to take your time. To commit her every sound and movement to perfect memory.

Jinx rocks her hips forward with more urgency now, chasing friction, chasing that sharp edge she’s clearly been holding back from. Her grip on the headboard tightens, knuckles pale, and her thighs start to tremble against your face.

You’re soaked with her. Your mouth, your chin, your cheeks. Her slick drips down your jaw and onto the crushed velvet beneath you. But all you can think about is that piercing.

You focus on it—rolling your tongue around the little ball at the tip of her clit, tracing tight circles around it, then flicking fast across the sensitive spot it guards. It moves with her, tapping gently against your teeth now and then with a soft, addictive clink. Every time you hear it, feel it bump into your enamel, it makes your brain stutter. You want to taste her forever. Want to see how many times that little piece of metal can make her lose control.

Jinx groans loud above you, throwing her head back. “Shit. Shit, you’re good,” she pants. “Keep that up and I’ll—fuck, that feels so fucking good.”

She grinds down harder, using you now, water sliding down her ribs and dripping from her chest onto your skin. Her piercings swing slightly with the motion, glinting in the low light.

Then her voice cuts through, rough and commanding:

“Slap my ass.”

Your eyes flick up to her in surprise, but she doesn’t slow.

“Do it,” she growls. “And none of that gentle shit. I don’t have time for that.”

You hesitate for a heartbeat—then oblige. Your hand comes up with a firm smack, the sound echoing sharp through the room. She jolts above you and lets out a loud, broken moan.

“Fuck, yeah,” she gasps. “Just like that.”

You do it again, your palm stinging as it connects. Her skin reddens under your touch, and you can feel the way her muscles twitch beneath it. Her rhythm stutters and she bears down harder, barely holding herself up now.

Every moan, every tremble, every word out of her mouth is filthy and desperate. She’s soaked your whole lower face, slick running freely down your chin, her thighs practically shaking on either side of your head. You keep your mouth open and your tongue working. Flicking, circling, teasing that perfect little stud until she’s panting, clawing at the headboard like it’s the only thing anchoring her.

“Shit. Shit! I’m gonna—oh, fuck—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

You slap her ass again, harder this time, and she shatters.

She comes with a cry that tears from her throat, full-bodied and raw. Her thighs clamp around your head, her whole body locking up as she grinds down, riding your mouth through it. Her slick floods you, dripping hot and fast over your lips, your chin, soaking the sheets even deeper.

You hold her there, let her grind it all out, hands braced tight on her hips as she rocks and shudders above you. Her breaths are wild, broken little gasps, and her chest heaves like she’s been sprinting.

Eventually, she starts to come down. Her thighs relax. Her grip on the headboard loosens. She slumps forward slowly, catching herself on her elbows above you, braid ends brushing against your collarbone.

She lets out a low, shaky laugh and looks down at you, eyes glassy and satisfied.

“Holy shit,” she breathes. Her eyes stay fixed on you for a beat longer before she lets out one sharp exhale. And then, just like that, her energy flips back on like a switch. The grin spreads across her face again, wicked and electric.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun,” she says, bouncing up onto her knees. “Also, you should really get those wet clothes off. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!”

You sit up slowly, skin sticky with sweat and slick, your head still spinning a little from how hard she came. “That wasn’t your fun?”

“Semantics!” she chirps, already rolling away from you. She crawls toward the foot of the bed, where there’s a battered metal chest tucked underneath. She lifts the lid and immediately starts digging through it, muttering under her breath as she tosses things aside.

“No, not that one...ugh, too much effort...ooh, could be fun...definitely this one.”

You take the moment to peel off the rest of your clothes. Bra, underwear, both soaked through and clinging to you. They land in the same messy pile as Jinx’s swimsuit. Your skin prickles in the cooler air, still flushed from before, and your legs instinctively rub together, already slick with fresh anticipation.

Jinx pops her head up from the trunk like a triumphant raccoon. “Hey,” she says, holding something out of sight in one hand. “You cool being tied up?”

You raise a brow. “Sure. Try anything once, right?”

Her grin widens. “Atta girl.”

She climbs back onto the bed and unceremoniously drops her findings at the base of it: a neatly coiled length of red rope, a small black vibrator, and a strap-on with a deep blue silicone dildo attached. The second she does, you feel a fresh wave of heat bloom low in your belly. Your breath catches slightly, thighs pressing together as your gaze lingers on the toy.

Jinx notices, of course.

“Already squirming,” she says, pleased. “God, you’re so easy.”

She crawls up the bed with deliberate slowness, rope in hand. You raise your arms without being asked, and she kneels beside you, beginning to tie them to the headboard with practiced ease. The rope is soft but firm, just rough enough to remind you that it’s there. The knot is tight, your wrists held snugly apart.

Once she’s satisfied with the tension, she leans down and gives you a long, unhurried kiss—her tongue slipping into your mouth, hands braced on either side of your ribs. The kiss is slower than before, but still hungry, like she’s staking a claim now. When she pulls away, you’re left breathless, chasing the taste of her on instinct.

Jinx slides back down the bed, settling between your thighs like she’s done it a thousand times. Her palms run slowly up your inner thighs, spreading you open.

“I’m leaving your legs free,” she says, kissing the crease of your thigh, then the other. “Which is so nice of me, by the way. But I need you to be good and keep them still, yeah?”

You nod quickly, breath shaky. “Yeah. Okay.”

She hums in approval and leans in, dragging her tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit in one long, slow lick.

Your head thunks back against the headboard. “Fuck.”

Jinx grins against you, nosing in deeper. “That’s kinda the idea.”

She keeps her hands on your thighs, gentle but grounding, as she dives back in with unrelenting attention. Her tongue moves with purpose. Circling, lapping, teasing.. She doesn’t rush it, just lets the tension build as you writhe under her, doing your best to keep still even as your legs twitch with every flick of her tongue.

And when she closes her lips around your clit and sucks, you actually gasp, wrists tugging uselessly at the rope. You draw one of your knees up, unsure of what exactly you intend to do with it. 

“Already twitching,” she says, voice muffled. “You’re so fucking cute like this.”

Jinx doesn’t rush.

Her tongue drags slow and deliberate against your clit, her fingers spreading you open to get a better angle. The rope binding your wrists digs in just enough to remind you of how helpless you are like this—laid out, arms stretched above your head, thighs trembling. You try to keep still like she asked, but it’s getting harder by the second.

She hums against you, the vibration making your whole body tense.

“You’re so wet it’s dripping,” she murmurs, grinning as she looks up at you. “It’s like your pussy’s crying for me.”

Your breath hitches, and your hips buck upward before you can stop them.

Jinx slaps your cunt lightly. “I said keep those still.”

“Sorry,” you gasp.

She shakes her head, mock-disappointed, and returns to her work like you’re a puzzle she’s not quite finished solving. Her mouth is merciless: tongue circling your clit in tight, teasing laps, then flattening against it to give you just enough pressure to almost fall apart. Her fingers slip inside you slow and shallow at first, then curling just enough to drag against that sweet spot before pulling back again.

It builds. It burns. Your whole body starts to tighten.

“Jinx—” you warn, voice already wobbling.

She pulls back with a wet pop, her chin shiny. “Nope,” she says cheerfully. “Not yet.”

You whine, body shaking, the denial hitting hard. Your legs twitch, thighs trying to close, but she’s already pressing them back open, settling between them again with that same infuriating smirk.

“You’re gonna be a mess, huh?” she says, almost admiring. “Can’t even take a little teasing.”

“A little?” Your voice cracks, breathless.

She just laughs and reaches for the vibrator.

It’s small and sleek, and she turns it on to a low, steady hum before nestling it right against your clit. You jolt like you’ve been shocked. It’s perfect. Too perfect.

She slides two fingers back inside you and begins to fuck you slow, curling just right—again and again. The vibe stays pressed in place as her free hand comes to pin your hip. You can’t move. Can’t run. All you can do is take it.

The pressure builds too fast. You bite your lip so hard it almost bleeds.

“I—I’m gonna—” you choke.

Jinx immediately pulls the vibe away.

You cry out, full-body shaking as the orgasm rips away from you like it was stolen.

She grins, unbothered. “Oops. Timing’s a bitch, huh?”

You’re panting, chest heaving. “Please.”

“Oh, we’re begging already? Thought you’d have a little more fight in you.”

She repeats the whole thing again—mouth and fingers and vibe—and once more drags you to the brink only to yank it away. You can’t even form words the third time. Your eyes start to water, your hips squirming, desperate for friction.

Jinx looks up and laughs. Full, delighted laughter, like this is the best show she’s seen in weeks.

“You crying, babe?” she coos, tilting her head. “God, you’re so hot like this. Look at you.”

You try to blink the tears away, but they fall anyway, tracing down into your hair.

Her smile turns wicked. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your body jerks. “No!. No—please don’t stop.”

She hums, licking her lips. “I dunno. I’ve always been moved by begging.”

You nod, breath breaking apart. “Please, Jinx. Please let me come. I can’t take it, I need it. Need you. I’ll be good, I swear, just…please. Please let me.”

She watches you for a second, then lets out a satisfied sigh. “God, I love when you get pathetic.”

She reaches for the strap-on.

You’re barely coherent by the time she gets it situated on you: adjusting the harness, then placing the vibrator so it presses directly against your swollen clit, held snug by the base of the strap. She climbs back over you, straddling your hips, and leans in to kiss you. Slow, filthy, tongue dragging against yours.

Then she pulls back just enough to speak.

“You wanna come?” she asks, grinding her hips forward just enough to tease the tip against her entrance. “Then do it. But I’m not stopping until I get mine.”

Jinx sinks down onto the strap with a hiss, her fingers digging into your sides as she adjusts to the size, her mouth open, her brow pinched just slightly in that way you now know means she likes it. She rocks her hips once, experimentally, then twice—finding the rhythm.

And then she takes off.

There’s no buildup, no slow tease. She starts fucking herself on you fast and filthy, bouncing with reckless abandon. The sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room, joined by the wet suck of her pussy as she takes every inch. She leans back just a bit, bracing one hand behind her on your thigh for leverage, her other hand squeezing one of her own bouncing tits, fingers brushing over the silver barbell through her nipple.

Your mouth is open but no sound comes out at first—just panting breaths and the electric buzz of the vibrator grinding into your clit, steady and relentless under the base of the harness. Every time she comes down hard, the strap shifts just right and the toy pulses deep against you. It’s impossibly good.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so good at that,” you whine, your hands twitching with the desire to touch her.

Jinx just laughs, wild and breathless. “I know.”

She slams herself down again, harder this time, and your entire body jumps. The vibrator doesn’t let up—it keeps pressing into your clit, low and constant, while Jinx fucks herself like she’s chasing the end of the world.

Her tits bounce with every movement, small and perfect and pierced, the metal flashing in the low light. Her body is slick with sweat or maybe lingering water, thighs trembling slightly from exertion, but she doesn't slow. If anything, she gets rougher.

You’re already close. Too close. That hum against your clit and the friction where her body meets yours is maddening. Every time she grinds down, you swear sparks go off behind your eyes.

Your nails dig into your palm as you orgasm comes rushing into the edges of your body.

“Jinx…Jinx, I’m gonna—”

“Oh, please do,” she pants, breath catching. “You earned it.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come hard, almost violently, the orgasm crashing over you in white-hot waves. Your back arches, the rope around your wrists straining as you cry out, legs shaking beneath her. The pressure from the vibrator doesn't stop—it forces you through it, even as your muscles lock and your vision blurs.

But Jinx doesn’t stop.

She keeps going, riding you through it with a desperate rhythm, hips still snapping down, her moans going high and ragged now. She’s losing it, right on the edge.

Your hands twitch, helpless, overstimulated, but she’s using your body like a toy now—her toy.

Her breath stutters. “Shit—shit—fuck—”

And then she falls apart.

She slams down one last time and shudders, hard, crying out as her pussy clamps around the strap and her thighs tremble uncontrollably. She collapses forward with a choked sound, her entire body going limp against you as the aftershocks hit her in waves.

She doesn’t move for a long moment—just pants against your neck, the both of you sweating and tangled and shaking. Her breath is warm on your skin. Her arms wrap around your torso, clinging, grounding herself.

-

Later, the two of you are curled up on her couch again, the chaos of the earlier hours now a warm buzz in your bones. You're both wrapped in oversized robes—hers patterned with flames, yours borrowed and far too soft. Jinx is stretched across the cushions with her head in your lap, her damp braids spilling down over your thighs. She’s playing with your fingers, twisting them gently, brushing her thumb along your knuckles like she’s trying to memorize the shape of them.

She lifts your hand suddenly and bites down on the fleshy part of your palm—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you jolt.

“Ow,” you mutter, staring down at her.

“You’re very biteable,” she says with a grin, nuzzling your wrist like it’s nothing.

You should be floating. You were floating. But now, with your head clear and the room quiet, something heavier settles in your chest. That creeping sense of reality creeping back in. The part where you leave, and she goes back to being Jinx, Jinx, and this all becomes a story you tell yourself on lonely nights to prove it happened.

Jinx stills slightly. Her fingers stop playing. She glances up at you, brows drawn together. “You’re being loud,” she says softly.

“I’m not saying anything.”

She tilts her head. “Yeah, but your brain’s shouting.”

You try to laugh it off, but it comes out thin. “It’s nothing. Just…post-nut clarity. Happens to the best of us.”

She doesn't let it go. “What are you worried about?”

You sigh and meet her eyes. She's watching you too closely.

“That I’ll leave,” you admit, “and you’ll forget I exist. That this was just…a one-time thing with a hot fan and you’ll move on to the next one. And I’ll just go back to normal life, pretending this wasn’t the best night of my life.”

In a truly humiliating turn of events, you feel the sudden urge to cry.

Jinx stares at you a second longer. Then she smirks, gentler this time. “Wow. Dramatic.”

You open your mouth, but she reaches up and tugs your face down so she can kiss you. It’s short, soft, but enough to make your heart lurch.

“I’m not gonna forget you,” she murmurs. “You’re way too fun to play with.”

You blink at her, stunned. “That’s it? That’s the bar?”

“It’s a great bar.” She grins and sits up, snatching her phone from the coffee table. “Now give me your number before you give yourself a heart attack.”

You rattle it off, and she types it in with one hand, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration. The moment is cut short by a loud beep from the laundry room.

“Hey, that’s you,” Jinx says. “Clothes are done. Guess I’ve gotta let you go, huh?”

You nod, heart heavy even as you smile. She leans in and kisses your cheek before hopping off the couch.

-

A week later… 

JINX: sending u tix for our vegas show! im gonna ride u into the sunset <33

don’t worry abt plane tix either, mama’s got it handled

Another message follows a few seconds later.

JINX: see you soon, superfan 💋

You don’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

Taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!!): @izzy-sevika, @shxdy0ariia, @sevikas-whore

[ceruark]

☆ killah ☆

♫ "if i get you alone, under your skin and bone, imma try you on for size" the MAYHEM collection. now playing: killah.

[childhood friend! sunday x fem! reader] synopsis: you return home from uni after breaking up with your boyfriend, where your childhood friend awaits you with open arms... and no ulterior motives. wc: 2.0k cw: explicit smut. MDNI. sunday is a bit of a freak. implied obsessive and possessive behavior.

“massive day for sunday oak,” kakavasha jokes when you break the news to your friends back home that you finally broke up with your awful boyfriend.

your relationship with sunday, your childhood best friend, had become… strained, for some reason, after you’d told him that you were in relationship with someone you’d met on campus. things were still tense from you choosing to go to a different college despite the fact that you’d both been accepted into the same prestigious one that he’s currently attending, but this seemed to be the nail in the coffin. sunday still texted you frequently, of course, but you did notice how he would never like or comment on a post or close friends story that featured your then-boyfriend in it.

he’s not the type of person to do something without purpose, after all.

kakavasha, someone you’d both met in high school who is a friend to you (to sunday, too, not that either will ever admit it) hounds you constantly about sunday’s supposed crush on you. 

“he’s being passive-aggressive.” the smugness in his voice somehow always manages to carry through the phone speaker. “i don’t know why you won’t admit to yourself that he’s down bad for you.”

“he’s not,” you insist, even though you know somewhere in the back of your mind, that sunday has always looked at you in a way that kakavasha and veritas never have.

despite your feigned denial and ignorance, though, you’re a bit nervous to be home for the summer. you’d broken up with your ex at the beginning of the semester, meaning that a solid five months have passed since then. you feel like you’ve moved on and are ready for whoever life sends your way next.

a mindset and shift in your demeanor that sunday will be able to pick up on immediately.

sunday knows you better than anyone— undoubtedly, even better than you know yourself. it can get uncomfortable, at times, being under his scrutinizing, all-seeing gaze and being handled as meticulously as one of the projects assigned to him by his adoptive father as a test to see if he is indeed a worthy heir.

maybe you are a personal project to him. he’s always so careful, so calculated in his interactions with you that it leaves you feeling slightly uneasy, but only after the fact. no, in the moment, you’re always blinded by your fondness and long-time affection for him, something which he knows. which he uses to his advantage.

so, yes, you do play dumb when it comes to sunday. you know how he is, what he’s capable of— you’ve been witness to his colder, crueler side countless times, have exchanged your fair share of wide-eyed side glances with robin— and you know that if show even an ounce of interest, he’ll seriously pursue you, and he’ll execute it so flawlessly that you won’t even realize what hit you until you’re already nestled deep within his grasp.

you know this, and yet.

you agree to go over to his house (mansion, really; all these years, and you still get lost in dewlight pavilion if you’re not with sunday or robin) the day after your flight lands. his more questionable behaviors aside, you do love sunday dearly, and you do want to see him again, especially now that things aren’t tense between you anymore.

a foolish thing to do, in hindsight. why do you never trust your instincts when he’s involved?

he’s been driving you insane all day. his touches linger, but not nearly long enough for you to actually be able to call him out on it. you’ll think you catch something needy in his gaze, but when you do a double-take, he’s the perfect picture of innocence, listening to you attentively, as always.

sunday has always been attractive, you’d be an idiot to try and convince yourself otherwise. but you’ve always been hesitant out of fear of ruining your friendship with him— that, and because of the depth of his feelings for you.

you should know that he’s stringing you along, working you up on purpose. he’s always known how to read you, carefully tracing your lines with his finger as if you’re sheet music detailing his favorite song, committing your notes to memory and playing you so masterfully, like he was born to do nothing else but ensure that you are his finest piece of work.

and as you’ve always known, you’re already in too deep by the time your brain catches up to what he’s been scheming; you’ve got him pushed back against his headboard while you straddle his lap, hands tangled in his hair as you kiss him senseless. his hands are at your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he keeps trying to pull you impossibly closer to him. his mouth is pliant beneath yours, following your lead and movements with small moans and gasps slipping out in between. 

he trails after you when you pull back, so you place a hand against his chest to keep him in place. it snaps him out of it enough for him to open his eyes. he looks absolutely debauched with his blown pupils and puffy lips, and you try to ignore what the sight does to the heat building between your thighs. 

“is this—” you clear your throat. “is this really okay?”

his eyes are locked onto your lips as you speak. “why wouldn’t it be?” he asks back. 

“you— you haven’t done anything before, sunday,” you say. “i don’t want you to regret it.”

he finally meets your eyes at that. one hand removes itself from your waist and comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently. 

“i could never regret you, dove,” he whispers, and you feel your face flush bright red at the nickname.

you swallow thickly. the devotion will take some getting used to. “are you sure?”

he drags you toward him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “of course,” he murmurs against them.

you adjust yourself on his lap, leaning into him fully, your chest pressing against his. he sucks in a shaky breath at the contact, his hand finding its way to your waist again. “you’ll let me know if it’s too much, right?”

he nods weakly, distracted. when you raise an eyebrow, he mutters out, “yes, i will.”

“okay,” you say, satisfied. 

and then you descend on him again, lips meeting in a mess of tongue and desperation. you hike the skirt of your dress up and begin to slowly rock your hips back and forth against his clothed erection, and the groan that leaves his throat sends a rush of heat shooting down your spine, pooling in the pit of your stomach. 

after a few minutes, he pulls away just enough to hiss out a desperate, “please.”

nodding, you lean back and begin fumbling with his belt. once it’s off, you pull his pants as far down his legs as you can without removing yourself from him completely. his boxers are soaked through, and you feel yourself swallowing again in anticipation as you reach inside of them. he jolts again when your hand wraps around his girth, another whine slipping out of his lips as he involuntarily bucks into your hand. with your other hand, you begin moving his boxers down his thighs as well, and pull his cock free.

he’s on the slimmer side, but he’s definitely longer than your ex— the only person you’ve ever been intimate with. you might have some trouble taking him fully, but judging from the amount of pre already dripping down his cock— and the mess between your own legs, dripping down your thighs— it might be able to slip in just fine.

huffing out a shaky sigh of your own, you hurriedly remove your own panties, tossing them somewhere to the side of the bed. you shift upward, carefully lining his cock up with your hole. you both groan a little bit when his tip brushes against your entrance.

you place a hand on his shoulder and rub your thumb in circles against his collarbone and, voice lilting, ask, “are you ready?”

“yes,” he breathes out.

slowly, you start sinking down onto his cock. a soft whine escapes you as his tip stretches you on its way in, a sigh of relief leaving you when it slips in and you start taking in his shaft.

sunday’s grip is near-bruising as you descend fully, and a strangled moan leaves him when you sit down on him completely. a choked gasp leaves you when his tip hits something deep within, a part of you that’s never been reached before.

he leans forward and presses his forehead to your shoulder. you gently card a hand through his hair, letting both him and yourself adjust.

when he leans back again, you place both your hands on his shoulders.

“i’m going to move now,” you say, “that okay?”

“please,” he whines again, and you giggle and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

you move yourself up and off of him just enough so that his tip is barely leaving your entrance before you slam back down again, taking him at a fast pace. 

whatever control he was trying to maintain over himself unravels quickly, and the whines that leave him stoke the flames burning in the pit of your stomach even more, knowing that you’re responsible for picking him apart like this. your own whines mingle with his, as each bounce has his tip slamming into that sensitive spot again and again, pushing you toward the edge faster than your ex or any toy ever has.

he’s getting close— you can feel him twitching inside you, and his whines are escalating into deep, loud moans that he tries to muffle by burying his face into your chest. you’re not quite there yet, but you’re not too worried about coming today; making his first time enjoyable is enough to satisfy you.

as if sensing your resolve, though, sunday removes a hand from your waist— something you don’t realize until his cool fingers are prodding at your clit. your hips jerk forward at the sudden contact, sucking in a sharp breath as he begins kneading it.

his movements are a bit sloppy at first, but he’s always been a quick learner, especially when it comes to you. when one particular motion has you crying out suddenly, he’s pressing harder against that spot and massaging it faster, bringing you closer to your high.

your movements have become erratic and your walls are fluttering when he tries to speak again, voice hoarse. “i— i’m—”

“inside,” you moan out, the word slurring as you feel yourself hanging on by a thread. “‘s okay.”

sunday gives a few a more thrusts before one more loud whine rips itself from his throat. he gives one last aborted jerk as he unloads into you, and the warmth that fills you pushes you over edge at last, and somehow, even through his own haze, he continues rubbing against your clit as you ride out your high.

eventually, you slump forward, collapsing against his chest as you catch breath and bring your racing heart back down. a hand comes up to cradle your hair gently, and he presses a tender kiss to your temple.

now clear-headed, you sigh, poking a finger into his rib. “you did all of that on purpose, didn’t you?”

he laughs, innocent enough if you didn’t know him as well as you do.

“whatever are you talking about?” he asks. he pulls you back by the hair gently, gazing into your eyes. there’s mischief and something a bit darker in them. “you came onto me.”

you roll your eyes at him. “what am i gonna do with you?”

he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and brushing your knuckles against them.

“i can think of a few things.”

[yeoslattes]

Starf☆cker

Genre: smut, strangers to lovers

Pairings: tattoo artist/rockstar!Seonghwa x fem!reader

WC: 6.5k

Summary: who knew you could make a usually scary looking dude show his soft side

Warnings: dom!Hwa x sub!reader, tattooed Seonghwa (that should be a warning on its own), degrading words (just slut a couple times), dirty talking, slight manhandling, oral fem receiving, fingering, choking, praising, doggy, slight overstimulation, creampie, mild cumplay, unprotected sex, make outs

A/N: so here’s a fic that’s been collecting dust in my drafts for about 2 months now 😅 I havent been in a good headspace to write even tho my hands have been itching to come up with something but there haven’t been any good ideas. I decided to revisit this fic and tweaked it up a bit, enough to make it good to post hope yall enjoy ☺️

» [StarFucker- Ginger Taylor] « “He sets my face on fire always, I try to fan it out”

☆ ☆ ☆

The bell above the parlor chimes, the sound twinkling through the small shop. Your nose twitches at the strong smell of alcohol mixed with faint incense. The front desk is vacant, in fact anyone would have thought the parlor was closed if it wasn’t for the neon open sign hanging from the window. A wave of anxiety washes over you, immediately you suck in a deep breath trying to calm your raging nerves. Maybe I should just go home, you fight the voices in your head telling you it’s best if you just went home and put off this tattoo for a little longer; you’d been waiting for months now, what was a little longer?

Just as you’re about to make the decision to leave, a man emerges from the back room, taking his place behind the counter. His raven colored hair is gelled back, though a few strands have fallen forward over his eyes. He wears a distressed knitted sweater that sticks to his slender frame. You aren’t able to see much of his skin but you can tell he’s tatted up by the way some of the ink peeks through the holes on his sleeves. His presence feels heavy, suffocating even– your skin crawls under his intense gaze and all you wanna do is shrivel up into dust and float away.

“How can I help you?” His voice is syrupy and smooth, yet laced with a hint of gruffness.

Seonghwa studies you. You definitely looked out of place in his shop, your colorful clothing contrasting the black paint and artwork displayed on the walls.

“Um…” You squeak.

Oh this would be interesting, Seonghwa thinks, he leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter, eyes heavy set on you. He finds the way you fiddle with your hands adorable until you finally swallow thickly and follow with– “Seonghwa right?”

He nods.

“Your shop was recommended to me by Wooyoung?” You say, though it comes out more as a question. Seonghwa lets out an airy laugh and nods.

“Ah yes, Wooyoung.” He wonders how you and Wooyoung even knew each other as he was certain you and the guy had completely different interests.

Finally feeling comfortable enough, you decide to stop beating around the bush and approach the glass counter where you place your phone displaying a beautiful piece of artwork.

“I want to get a sternum tattoo, something along the lines of this.” Seonghwa studies the art piece and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry but I can’t do any artwork that is not my own.”

“I-I– well of course not, but you can draw right? This is just mere inspiration, the piece can be whatever you can come up with.” You bite your lip, hoping that this guy can make your vision come to life, and doesn’t see you as a stupid girl who wears Barbie doll pink clothing and has no place in this grungy world.

You were a pretty girl and if Seonghwa could have someone as beautiful as you display his artwork, shit he’d tattoo every square inch of your body if you asked him to.

“Okay,” He nods, rubbing his temple, “it will take me a while. If you want to start today you can come back in a couple hours.”

You shake your head, no.

“It’s okay there’s no rush, I can come back tomorrow if you have an opening.”

Seonghwa opens his appointment book, running his fingers down the page.

“I have a ten to twelve slot open. Wanna stop by then?” He meets your eyes and he swears he sees them sparkle.

Excitement bubbles in you and you can’t help the smile that breaks on your face,

“Yes, that works– thank you so much!”

He blabbers on about a down payment and the total for the piece though you can barely concentrate when he looks this attractive. In the end you place your deposit and leave the shop feeling rather content.

When the door closes behind you, Seonghwa notices how dull the place suddenly looked without you in it. He shakes his head and rubs his eyes, his exhaustion clearly catching up to him. Never had he looked forward to tattooing someone more than he had now. So much so, he’d stopped working on one of his other client’s designs to get started on yours. He opened his Ipad, immediately getting to work. With you in mind, the vision for this sternum tattoo came easy to him. Something dainty and fragile that held a lot of who you were as a person in it– or at least what he perceived you as. He was done in 2 hours flat, he messaged you as soon as he’d transferred the design to physical paper.

Hwa: It’s done, please arrive 15 minutes before your appointment, thank you and see you soon.

Dollie: Thank you so much Hwa! Can’t wait to see it, thanks again! :)

He smiles at the text, catching himself immediately.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” His voice resonates in the empty shop. This session would be the longest hours of his life.

***

Another gig done, Seonghwa couldn’t feel any more on top of the world. Life seemed to be going good recently and he was thankful for that. People cheered for him as he came off stage, immediately he made a beeline for the VIP booth that the club always reserved for him and his group plus a couple of girls that always hung around them.

“Heard you met my girl today.” Wooyoung says, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he plops down next to his bandmate.

Seonghwa nods, “I didn’t know you were friends with a Pilates Princess.”

Wooyoung shoots him a questioning look,

“Dude c’mon now, the way she dresses? In all pink and shit, she looks like she’s about to hit her 8am pilates class. It’s kinda cute though.” He mutters the last part, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

Wooyoung laughs, finally understanding what Seonghwa was referring to.

“That’s just her, I’ve known her since middle school. She’s always been like that, loves her bright colors. She’s a real sweetheart– be gentle with her.” Seonghwa scoffs, louder than he needs to.

“No promises, I tattoo her tomorrow, I’m scared that if I press too hard she’ll crack.”

“Alright now, she’s a tough girl, she can take it. Trust me.” Wooyoung cheekily winks at Seonghwa, whose eyebrows shoot up in shock.

“What is that supposed to mean? Have you and her…”

Wooyoung shakes his head rapidly,

“No no, JellyBelly is like a sister to me. I mean more so as in she’s a tough girl, she’s been through things, get your head out of the gutter.” Wooyoung teases, smacking his shoulder.

Seonghwa nods at this new information Wooyoung gives him. Deciding it wasn’t his place to ask any more questions he diverts the topic to the show they’d played tonight. Though you reside in the back of his mind.

***

You had barely slept out of pure excitement, you took a full shower, really preparing for this new tattoo.

“I won't be able to scrub as hard once I get it done.” You had told yourself. You decided against tight clothing, settling for some loose sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, ditching your bra.

The bell above the door jingles and almost immediately Seonghwa is at the front desk. He was so excited to see you again, though it had only been a day. You looked relaxed today, the white shirt with pink sweats combo making you stand out once more.

“Hi Seonghwa!”

“Hey good to see you! I thought you would’ve had a change of heart.” A light flush coats your cheeks at his teasing words. He hands you a clipboard and a pen, suddenly you feel overwhelmed at the insane amount of text on the form.

“Fill this out for me and I’ll take your ID for a copy.” Pulling out the plastic card, you hand it to him. He leaves you alone as he disappears towards the printer at the back of the shop. Meanwhile, you fly through the paperwork sliding the clipboard towards him when he reappears.

“Alright, follow me to the back.” You sheepishly trail after him.

There, on the counter is a white sheet, you almost gasp when you see the full design. Fine lines stem from the center of what would essentially be tattooed between your breasts, swirling together to create a bunch of stems interlaced with a variety of dainty flowers decorating the ends. Intricate leaves branch out, all of which would be covering the area under your breasts.

“Oh my god, Seonghwa!” You gasp getting closer to the sheet, “this is beautiful.”

You turn to look at him and he wears a proud smile, it makes him look different? He usually wore this persona of being a tough guy who was in a band, tattooed as one of his jobs and was deemed scary, but in this moment he was anything but that.

“I'm so glad you liked it, it's definitely a delicate piece, perfect for a girl like you.” You can’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks. Suddenly the room feels hot and you fan yourself, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

“Ready to get started?”

He begins to set up his station, while you set your stuff down and pull your hair up. You hop on the chair, reclining back.

“Um…” Seonghwa awkwardly coughs, when you turn to look at him he stares at you expectantly. Then you realize you still had your shirt on,

You stay oddly silent, a wave of embarrassment rolling up your body.

“I’m not wearing a bra.” You mutter.

“Uh, I can tape something over you to cover your…” he trails off motioning to his own chest. When you don’t say anything he continues, “or you can stay bare, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before but I want you to be comfortable.”

You contemplate for a second, before pulling your top off.

Seonghwa watches as you fold the shirt on your lap, eyes shooting up to meet yours. You lean back into the cushion, chest out and ready for him. You questioned where you got this confident boost from, still you remain calm swallowing thickly at how heavy his presence felt.

Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, he scoots his stool under him and takes a seat.

You stare at the ceiling boards, focused on the feeling of the plastic razor run over your skin. His fingers lather you in the stencil transfer gel, he lays the thin sheet over your skin letting it rest for a minute until he peels it back.

The squeaking of his wheely stool fills the room followed by light metallic taps on his tray, finally you hear him take a deep breath.

“Okay, you ready?” He asks and all you can do is nod.

The first touch is electrifying, you laugh at yourself in your head. How touch starved were you? That the feeling of your tattoo artist leaning his hand against your skin is enough to wake something up in you. The pressure is constant as he drags the needle over the fine lines. Your skin is on fire by the time he's halfway done with lining.

“Do you need a break?” His voice brings you back to reality.

“Uh no,” your throat is hoarse.

“Maybe when you’re done lining, I’ll take a water break.” You say, in a soft voice.

“Okay let me know if you need anything.”

With that he resumes the line work, by the time he finishes your left underboob you really start to feel the pain.

Seonghwa is focused on not fucking up the lines, yet you make that hard when he feels intoxicated by your scent. You smelled so sweet and fresh, and your skin so supple and warm under his hand despite the barrier of his gloves. He presses particularly hard over one area and you whimper. The sound shoots straight down to his cock. He pulls back and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, you were really doing a number on him. Just a few more lines. He reminded himself.

After a full hour the line work is complete. You go to stand up but he stops you.

“Please be gentle with yourself and stand up slowly, there’s no way you don’t feel faint in the head after all of that.” You nod and slowly rise, reaching for your pink water bottle. You sip on some water, watching Seonghwa disappear into the back closet and come out with a bag of jelly beans.

“Have some, they’ll keep your blood sugar up so you don’t pass out on me.” You take the bag and immediately pop some in your mouth.

“I love jelly beans.” You mumble, and the tattoo artist laughs.

“Is that why your nickname is JellyBelly?” You almost choked on the sweets melting in your mouth, how’d he know that? Then you realized, Wooyoung.

“Only Wooyoung calls me that,” you pout, feeling betrayed that your friend had given up your nickname like that.

“It’s okay, it’s cute.” Seonghwa says, reorganizing his station. Your cheeks flare up and you fan yourself out. Something he had taken notice of that you did any time he made you blush.

***

After another long hour of shading the piece was done. When you looked in the mirror you couldn’t stifle the gasp that ripped through you. It was exactly what you had envisioned, it was delicate, intricate, it was beautiful. After Seonghwa cleaned it and wrapped it you couldn’t help but give him a hug, one he sheepishly returned.

“Sorry, I don’t know if you like hugs or not, but this was worth one. I can see why Wooyoung trusts you.”

He shrugs it off,

“Thank you, for trusting me.”

Just as he finishes the payment transaction and you’re about to walk through the door, he stops you.

“Do you wanna come by Precious Club tomorrow night? I’ll be playing with the band.” The invite comes with little to no thought, even Seonghwa shocks himself. His heart pounds in his chest as he watches your pretty face contort into a smile.

“Yes of course!” He relaxes when you accept his invite, you wave him one final goodbye. His eyes trained on you as he watched you leave through the glass windows.

He buries his head in his hands, confused at how giddy he’d been feeling since you'd walk through the damn door. Never had he ever acted this way towards one of his clients. He got pretty girls coming in to get tattooed by him in masses, yet no one ever stuck out to him. Sure he’d had a couple of hook ups with a few of his clients here and there but never did he crave such a slow burn feeling more than now. He wanted to take his time with you, get to know you, really find out who you were, he wanted to work for it.

No amount of disinfectant could get rid of your scent that still lingered in the shop even after hours. It reminded Seonghwa of how close he’d been to you, your warmth, even the small whimpers you’d let out whenever he’d go over a specific area.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, squeezing the poor cleaner bottle in his hand. Deciding enough was enough, he finished cleaning and locked up the parlor; ready to kick back and smoke a joint while he probably rubbed one out to the thought of you.

***

“Wooyoung.” You whined, throwing a tantrum on your carpeted floor.

“What, what!” Your best friend exclaimed resting on your bed scrolling through his phone.

“What do I wear? You know best you’re in the band with the guy.” You remind him, he’s too focused on his phone to answer right away.

“Wooyoung!” He finally brings his attention to you, dropping his phone on your bed.

“Jeez JellyBelly,” He stands up walking over to your closet. He stands there for a second before turning to you.

“Yeah you’re cooked, none of this matches the vibes.”

You groan and throw yourself back on your floor.

“Why are you stressing? Seonghwa would want you to just dress like you normally do. If you show up in a grungy outfit, it’ll be obvious that that’s just not who you are.”

His words echo in your brain. He did have a point, but you didn’t want to be looked at sideways at a renowned rock club.

“It’ll be fine JellyBelly,” he reassures patting your head,

“I have to go though, tech starts in half an hour. I’m excited for you to be there. I can’t believe it took another guy asking you to come for you to attend one of my shows.” He feigns hurt.

“I love you Woo.” Is all you can say, and that genuinely pulls a laugh out of him.

He sees himself out and you are left to come up with this outfit all alone. After a couple of rounds of mix and matching you settled for the color scheme of black and pink. You figured it was the perfect mix of Seonghwa’s favorite color and yours.

The pair of black flared jeans wrap around your hips and thighs beautifully, you top them off with a baby tee reading ‘Star Fucker’ in pink glittery letters, was it a bold move? Yes. Did you care? Not at all– if anything, it’d be a fun conversation starter. Your makeup is soft like always, your hair pulled back into two messy braids with strands framing your face.

The commute to the club is a rather long one. Settling on the fact that you wanted to drink, you decided to leave your car home and take the bus, only the ride was 45 minutes too long.

The club peeks into view and immediately your heart pounds, the line is out the door and wrapping around the building. Never in a million years did you think Wooyoung’s band was this famous but here you were. The line consisted of mostly girls with a few guys thrown in here and there.

The bus drops you off at the stop halfway up the block, as you walk towards the back of the line you can’t help but feel the gazes of the girls in line burning through you. It was a mix of judgemental and admirable looks, some would even smile at you if you made eye contact with them. As soon as the doors opened the line begins moving rather quickly.

“20 dollars at the door, cash only!” The bouncer yells, the girl in front of you pays quickly and now you’re face to face with the big man.

“I-i don’t have cash, but I know the members.” The bouncer scoffs,

“You know how many times I’ve heard that story? Silly girl. Next-”

“No wait, I'm serious, im frien-” You’re cut off by a man with an earpiece coming out, he leans into the bouncer's ear, telling him something.

“Well I guess today is your lucky day. Come on in.”

The girls behind you mutter in confusion. You step into the dark club, already the air is filled with smoke. The lights hazy through the thick clouds in the room. People are lined up in the pit securing their spots, given your short stature you head for the small balcony where you manage to stand against the railing looking down at the stage and crowd. Minutes tick by agonizingly slow, you even went down to the bar to get a drink. You rest against the barricade sipping on your amaretto sour until you finish it, getting another one right as the show is about to start.

“I don’t see her anywhere.” Seonghwa mutters, peeking through a crack in the black curtains. Wooyoung taps him and points up.

Seonghwa feels his heart race when he spots you, he smiles and retreats back into the dark backstage area.

“What the fuck is wrong with me man?” He mutters. Wooyoung looks at his friend with a concerned look, never had he seen his bandmate so distressed, not even his first break up had him looking like this.

“I like her. I like her a lot, I don’t think I’ve ever been this much into someone till now.” He sighs rubbing his face with his palm.

Wooyoung suddenly feels proud, “what can I say I’m a matchmaker.”

Seonghwa sends him a playful glare.

“Shut up, you did not send her to me because you’re a matchmaker.”

Wooyoung shrugs, “well not necessarily but she wanted a tattoo– you’re looking for someone, she’s looking for someone. It worked out.”

Seonghwa is about to reply with a smart comment but the lights going out and the roar of the crowd bring him back to reality. It was show time.

The set starts off strong with a crowd favorite. You watched in awe at how good Seonghwa was on stage. Occasionally you’d jump at the sudden boom of the base shaking through you. Rock was not something you’d ever listen to in your own time but it wasn’t bad to listen to in a moment like this one; besides you were supporting your friends.

For two songs straight it’s like you were in a trance, the way Seonghwa moved and sang, basically pouring his soul out into the stage was so captivating. The heat of the stage lights broke him out into a pool of sweat making him look like an angel glowing in the darkness. He looked absolutely breathtaking and you felt yourself falling for him more and more as the set went on.

“How’s everyone feeling tonight?” His voice is loud and raspy into the mic, sending a wave down to your core.

“We are Prestige Academy, thank you all for coming tonight.” Seonghwa is panting, taking sips of his water to refresh his raw throat.

“Alright now, this next song means a lot to me, a lot to us as a group. This is ‘What You Do to Me’, make some noise if you’ve ever been in fuckin’ love, lets go.”

Your heart flutters as the pounding of the drums fills the room once more. You listen intently at the lyrics, it was definitely a song about yearning for someone. You watch with a smile; the song slows down for the bridge. You watch intently, feeling the energy in the room shift when you see him reach a hand up towards the balcony. His hair sticks to his face, sweat fully pouring off him now, his eyeliner is smudged around his eyes adding to the darkness swirling in them. Still, you can clearly see his eyes are locked on you. Your stomach swirls, something deep in you burning for him like never before, you needed him.

Every word muttered into the mic regains new meaning for Seonghwa, you’d come into his life like an unexpected storm and instead of questioning his feelings, in this very moment he finally accepted them. You feel your cheeks heat up, bringing a hand up to cool yourself down. There it is, Seonghwa thinks, the sole indicator of what he did to you.

He pulls away from the mic for the guitar break.

After an almost 1 and a half hour set, the show was over. Some fans left while others lingered around the backstage entrance, hoping to at least get an interaction. You take a seat down at the bar this time, hoping to see two familiar faces coming from the back soon. It's not long when high pitched squeals fill the room, you are able to see Seonghwa walking through the crowd followed by Wooyoung and the other bandmates.

Waving a few hellos, you notice when he spots you, right away making a beeline for your spot on the bar.

“Hey!” He greets with a smile and you stand up to hug him. He gently wraps his arms around you. You give Wooyoung a hug as well.

“You guys did amazing!” Seonghwa takes in your outfit, chuckling to himself when he reads your shirt. Wooyoung disappears off to what you assumed was VIP so you are left with Seonghwa. As soon as you meet his eyes he motions to his chest.

“What’s that about?” Your cheeks redden when you realize what he's talking about. You shrug trying to play it cool.

“Do you like it?” You ask, he can’t help but nod. You in this dark club that plays music that you surely don’t listen to, just for him; it was perfect.

“You’re perfectly out of place.” He whispers in your ear. You feel so small under his intense gaze, never had you had someone break you down this easily.

Seonghwa’s mind swirled with different thoughts, he wanted to get you alone and just talk each other's ears off about anything. You watch him hesitate a bit as he searches the VIP area until he catches Wooyoung’s gaze. He motions something to him and grabs your hand, stringing you along somewhere, though you don't ask where, you were just happy you were with him.

Now you sit face to face at a small family owned Mexican restaurant across the street from the club.

“So are you in school?” He asks, mouth full of a steak taco. You giggle and nod.

“Yeah, I get my medical assistant certification at the end of this month. Then I might do nursing. I’m not too sure yet.”

Seonghwa nods, rather impressed at what you did outside of this little bubble he’d put you in. He was intrigued, he needed to know more.

“Are you in school?” You return the question.

There's an awkward pause at your question, til he lets out a loud chuckle. When he sees your confused expression he contains himself.

“Oh you’re being serious.” He hums and shakes his head, “nah, I decided to become a full time tattoo artist and do music on the side. Surprisingly I make enough money to sustain myself.”

You chat like you’d know the guy for ages. The more he learns about you the deeper he falls, you are so perfect in his eyes. There was no question about where he wanted to take this, he was certain he wanted you as his; to put a label on this. He could only hope you felt the same. He’d fallen fast and that scared him.

He pulls up to the side of your apartment, immediately he steps out rounding the car and pulling your door open. You step out, sheepishly walking towards your front door.

“Thank you so much for tonight. I needed a good distraction.”

He gasps, faking offense, “so I'm a distraction?” Immediately you shake your head. “Of course not!”

He smiles at your frustration and you playfully shove him.

“You know what I mean Seonghwa.” There’s a comfortable pause.

He shuffles a bit on his feet, looking adorably awkward. Your eyes meet his and slowly you lean in for a kiss. Typically you never kissed on the first date but this, this felt so right, he felt so right. He lets your plump lips touch his, without second thought he pulls you in. The kiss escalating fast. He suddenly pulls away leaving you wanting more.

“Not tonight baby.” He whispers, resting his forehead against yours. You whimper at the feeling of what you want most being ripped away.

“I wanna do this right. Okay?” He asks, looking down at you with the most loving eyes, and so you nod. You unlock your door and he lets you go with a kiss to your cheek.

***

The dates with Seonghwa didn’t end there, he’d taken you on a total of five dates, asking you to make it official on the fifth one. He spoiled you greatly, treating you like an absolute princess. You’d never experienced such great love and care in a relationship until now.

You quickly learned he was a hardworking guy, he’d stay up for hours working on new tattoo pieces, or writing lyrics for a new song. He burned himself out often and you always tried to contribute to his well being. You were more than happy to be that breath of fresh air that got his mind off everything when he needed it.

Tonight was one of those nights. You told him to come over, that it was okay if he stayed over. You heard him hesitate over the phone, but you reassured him that it’d be okay. Only after hanging up the call did you feel a wave of nervousness. What if we end up having sex? You’d never gone past kissing, but you were sure he’d never put you in an uncomfortable position. You cleaned your apartment, sweeping and mopping under every crevice you could think of, by the time you were done your apartment was spotless. With very little time to spare you showered and dressed in the cutest pajama set.

As if manifested by thought, Seonghwa was knocking at your door. He came in looking sweaty, eyeliner smudged and hair disheveled. He’d just come back from a show which explained the large duffel in his hand.

“Hey baby.” He greeted, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wrapped yourself around him and he relaxed in your hold breathing in your comforting scent.

“Bathroom is free for whatever you need okay?” You tell him, knowing he was raging for a shower.

“I’m being so honest, I think I'll be skipping dinner tonight. I am so tired.” He mumbles going in for another hug. You gladly wrap your arms around him again.

“That's okay baby.”

Seonghwa melts under the hot stream of water, he couldn’t believe he was in your shower at this very moment. Remember what he’d said about life going well these days? Well now it was going great. He stepped out of the shower, dried off and dressed in some basketball shorts and a wife beater. He brushed his hair back in the mirror, letting the wet strands dry towards the back of his head.

When he walks into your room, you feel your breath get lodged in your throat. With his tattoos on full display you were feasting on his exposed skin. You traced each one with your eyes, even making note of those that you hadn't even seen before. They were absolutely breathtaking. He hops into bed with you, laying so you're face to face. He brings one hand up to brush your hair out of your face, then he runs it down to grip your dainty hand in his. You watch as the small butterflies tattooed in his hands stretch and condense as he flexes his hand.

You swallow thickly, feeling a fire burning deep in your core.

“Seonghwa.” You whisper. He hums gently.

“What is it baby/”

He can see your mild hesitation before you open your lips.

“I just want you to make me yours…fully.” His heart flutters at the softness in your words, you were so perfect, so malleable. He wanted to break you into nothing, show you his love in its entirety; because that's what you deserved.

He doesn't speak a word, instead he cups your cheek and pulls you towards him, he lifts his head to slot his lips against yours. Without missing a beat you adjust yourself to lay on your back while he hovers over you. His hands though very careful feel rough on your skin as he freely explores, touching and feeling what he hadn’t before.

“Are you okay?” He asks, pulling away for a second.

“Yes Hwa please, touch me, don't hold back.” You burned for him, you needed him. He sighs, god what were you doing to him?

“I don't wanna break you.” He mumbles peppering kisses along your jaw.

“What if I want you to?” That was all the confirmation he needed.

He dived into your neck, leaving small splotches here and there, working his way down till he reached the waistband of your shorts. He pulls them off in a smooth movie, leaving you in nothing but your sleeping top and panties. On your own accord you pull the tank top off leaving you bare to his eyes.

When he sees the almost healed tattoo on your chest he swears he almost cums on sight. Seonghwa feasts his eyes on your tits, hand immediately groping and toying with your hard buds. You arch into his touch to which he leans down and brings one of your breasts to his mouth. He suckles and twirls his tongue around while you writhe underneath him. He wastes no time in pulling your panties off while also stripping himself down to his boxers. He lays down on his belly to reach the heat between your thighs. He gropes your supple skin under his hands, leaving pink fingerprints all over.

“Seonghwa please.” You whine, hips bucking towards his mouth.

“Stay still.” He smacks the side of your thigh, pulling a whimper out of you but making you lay as still as possible for him. In the act of pressing your eyes closed you feel him before you see him. His mouth dives into your sopping core. Lips encircling around your clit as he worked you towards what you wanted most. Your mouth drops open, hands fighting to find purchase on something, anything.

“f-fuck .”

Your legs threatened to close, but Seonghwa wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you open and keeping you there.

He feats like a man starved, you were the sweetest thing he’d ever had, he was addicted to your taste. His tongue prods at your hole before running backup to your sensitive nub.

“Hwa- fingers pleas-e.” He chuckles at your request.

He suddenly stops getting on his knees and looming over you. One hand reaches between your thighs while the other runs up to rest against your throat. He stays there for a moment, you give him a reassuring nod, your own hand encircling around his wrist to pull him tighter against your throat.

He takes two of his long digits running them up and down your cunt before pushing in, hand around your throat tightening. Your whines fill the room as he pumps his digits. He pulls them out, rubbing the pad of his fingers on your clit. Back and forth, back and forth; tears pool in your eyes, hips uncontrollably bucking.

Between his fingers and his grip on your throat, you were getting overwhelmed fast. Your high was barrelling towards you with no stopping. You arch your back hips sinking further into his fingers and before you knew it he had you cumming. Your thighs tremble around his arm, brain fuzzy and out of touch with what had happened. You suck in deep breaths trying to recollect yourself.

“Are you ready for more?” You hear him ask, though faint you nod. He gently taps your cheek, when you open your eyes the room looks fuzzy.

“Words baby.”

“Yes Hwa more please.”

“There you are baby. Did that feel good?” You nod. “Yeah? Had to prep you for me doll,”

“Desperate little slut. Look at you asking for more.” You clench around nothing at the nickname.

He leans down to kiss you , you feel him moving his arms, when he pulls away his cock is free from its confines, his slender hand is wrapped around it as he preps for you. With one hand holding himself up and the other holding his cock he lines himself, eyes watching where you two would soon be joined. Just before he pushes in he looks at you.

“Please Seonghwa.” You croak.

He gently moves his hips, his fat tip splitting you open around his girth. You wince at the stretch despite his prep. When he finally bottoms out you watch his face contort into one of pleasure. He closes his eyes, lips between his teeth and brows drawn together.

“So fucking good baby.” He finds rhythm pounding into your wet cunt. He groans at the way your walls enclose and throb around him. His pace isnt forgiving, the more he moves, the further he fucks you open. You’re on cloud 9, you pull him down, pressing your lips against his. His hand interlace with yours and suddenly he's pinning you to the bed as you spread your legs further for him.

“Look at you baby, taking me so fucking well. Who knew huh?” He says looking at you speaking with pure fervor.

“Who knew the goody two shoes girlie was such a slut for dick.” He feels you clench hard around him.

“Am I fucking you dumb baby? You can’t even reply to me.”

“h-hwa .” Is all you can squeak out.

He quickly pulls out, flipping you on your belly. He’s taken aback when he sees a huge tattoo piece decorating your upper back.

“You’re just full of surprises huh?” He mutters, hand running over the ink on your back. He sinks back into you, hands coming to wrap the braids you sported around his inked hands.

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, back arching heavily as he pulled you. With each snap of his hips the globes of your ass would smack back on him. Heavy pants and moans filled the room, Seonghwa slowed down when he felt himself getting closer. He rested against you, your arms giving out under yourself making you land flat on your bed with your ass up. Seonghwa drags his hips slowly, the tip of his cock reaching depths you hadn't felt before. An inked hand slithers its way around you to find your clit. As soon as he finds the hypersensitive bud, he rubs. Hips pistoning into you again. Slowly but surely he brings you to the edge until you fall over. Your walls clamp down on him as you throb and squirm all over from the stimulation. He holds you down in his arms till you've come down.

All you can do is whimper from sensitivity as he pulls out. He helps you on your back again.

“Can you handle a bit more baby?” He asks and all you can do is nod. He slides home once again. This time he sets a decent pace, not too brutal, not too slow. As he moves he drinks you in with his eyes, from the swell of your breasts, to the fresh tattoo done by none other than him, and the way your pretty face contorted in pleasure suddenly he was finishing. He pants loudly, hips coming flush against yours.

“Take it pretty girl, take it.” He groans, head thrown back, eyes pressed shut.

Your legs wrap around his waist as he bent you open. Once he leaves his load in you he pulls out slowly, watching the way your pussy still pulsed in the aftermath. Globs of cum trickled out running down and coating your ass. With gentle fingers he scoops it back up and stuffs it into your hole. Eyes focused on the task at hand. You whimper at the sensitivity.

Seonghwa drops next to you, eyes watching for any sign of discomfort. He grabs your hand pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“My perfect girl.” He whispers.

You felt spent, he’d taken everything out of you, yet given you so much more. You feel your boyfriend snuggle into you. Skin to skin, the warmth of your bodies mingling together. Finally satisfied, you succumb to a deep slumber.

[richeeduvie]

SHIFTING ✭ DRABBLE

When witnessing you "flirting" with Robby, Jack attempts to cope with the way you, or the feelings he has for you, are changing him.

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

THE LENGTHS PART ONE

PART ONE DESCRIPTION: Jack meets the new nurse Robbie's been fawning over, only to then take the next couple of nights to pathetically cope with what he's feeling for the peppy, sunny young woman he's just met.

✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・✫ ✭・.・

Think of Jack Abbott not being able to help the man he's becoming because of you. There's almost a point where he wants to blame you, but he'd never do that. He could never do that. But there's the problem, as capable and beautiful as you are, he shouldn't think you're perfect. Or innocent. Even in love. Even when he can finally accept the way his bones tense and his blood rushes around you, even when he becomes brave and secure enough in himself to almost feel entitled to the way he thinks and feels about you. He shouldn't look at you with a reverence you'd only reserve for...God. Or Jesus. Either one.

This is not the man he is. Even when he's falling for someone. What exactly are you doing to him?

"You're biting your lip again. That's your "I'm about to yell at Robby through the margins of the chart" face. What is it?"

There's nothing like sound mechanical symphony of beeping monitors and overhead pages to aid in witnessing you flirting with Robby yet fucking again. It would've been a month ago that Jack's annoyance would've been chalked up to the slight unprofessionalism of you two distracting him and other staff, but Jack can...possibly admit it now, he thinks it's flirting, and it's getting to him.

It's just that, even if he likes you, why is it getting to him so fucking badly?

"Excuse me, I never yell at you through the chart. And I am also...just now...communicating feedback."

"...No. You never have. But I'm sure I'll agree with your passive-aggressive, very legible "feedback."

"I've been told my handwriting is perfectly readable and bubbly."

"Much like yourself. I agree."

You laugh, nudging Robby with your elbow. Dr. Robby to you. Always professional in name, even if you're practically turning Jack's best friend into mush.

Jack squeezes the clipboard in his hand when he stops hiding behind the corner. A month ago, even if your peppy conversations with others spread like wildfire over his chest, the guy would've never actually have stopped behind the wall to eavesdrop on said conversation...to collect more material to get pissed at.

He's not the same man he was a month ago, and he's certainly not the guy he used to be before he met you. But he guesses that's the point, every time you meet someone, you'll never be the same person you were the second before they walk through the door.

And every time you catch his eye and offer that blinding, casual smile, Jack has no choice but to think the person he's regressing into is worth it if it means he has you. You. You. You.

Awfully capable and genius and horrifically beautiful.

But still, Jack hates the twitch of his jaw when he realizes that smile you're giving him right now is a shared one. Not completely his. That it would've been if you just stuck to night shifts like he suggested.

"How’s that post-op gallbladder doing in 9?"

You salute him. Robby smiles something at him that's almost an amused disbelief. But why are you amused, brother? You know her so well, you work together in ease as if you've known her more than the four months she's been working in the Pitt.

"Stable. Labs are improving. I already rechecked his hemoglobin, too—holding steady."

"Good. Let me know if his belly gets tense or he spikes again. No heroic discharges."

"Wouldn’t dream of it."

Jack nods. Starts to walk away.

"That’s her way of saying, 'Don’t micromanage me, old man.' Am I on the nose or--”

Jack blinks to the floor when you laugh. He stops mid-stride and turns slightly.

"Stop, you’re gonna get me reassigned to nights."

Just enough to let his eyes linger on his best friend. The closest man he's ever known. One of the best doctors he's ever seen. Jack could hope that if you were another pretty and sickeningly wonderful girl, the grip of his fists would be just as tight as it is now, because the ridiculous hellfire of his pangy-fucky-jealousy wouldn't be the result of you and you alone. It'd be on him.

It'd be on the type of man he becomes when he...when he...

“What was wrong with your night shifts?”

“…Nothin, Dr. Abbott. Just riffing.”

"Well. Glad you two are enjoying yourselves."

...When he falls in love. Fuck him.

But this is not him. The way his voice goes flat and casual is not him, but it's what he says and what he feels because of you and you and you--this sunny little nurse who knows too much for her own good.

There’s a beat. A weird silence. Robby furrows his brow. You straighten instinctively, and Jack almost feels guilty, but that held confidence in his sharp, accusing quip is also who you're making him become. And maybe he'll be sorry for that.

"We are, yeah. Helps the shift go by faster."

"Right. I'll see you."

Jack walks off without another word. Sure. Maybe he'll be sorry for that tonight. Maybe he won't be when he gets home, because he'll be too close to blaming you when he thinks of every time you've smiled at him today, and he wonders--no, he thinks that you have to know.

"Did I miss something?"

"No… I mean, I don’t think so."

And Jack could be sorry when your voice betrays the uncertainty...when it almost sounds...hurt. He can't because he isn't there, but if he were-- if Jack saw how his comments spiked you, maybe he'd actually try to stop himself from the man he's becoming.

But he doesn't. So. He'll act like this all over again tomorrow. He's very proud of himself.

"Did you see her handle that psych hold last night? You know, when I was a kid, I was a huge fan of WWE...for some reason, and that's what it was. He was swinging that chair like he was in WWE and she--"

Jack pauses at the sound of your name.

"She kept her cool. And he was handled like that. I would've cried. Maybe."

"Enough with the goo-goo talk, Mel."

"You would've cried."

Mel says her statement to Santos in a way that isn't unkind, just flat.

"I--no! I would've been the last person to bawl. But...yeah, it's almost resent-able, the way it's like she's made of chamomile tea and ten hits of morphine."

"Um...I don't think, maybe--that resent-able's a word?"

"It’s wild, isn’t it? I know she’s a nurse, but every newbie follows her around like she’s an attending. It’s kinda hot."

"Um. I wouldn't say hot--"

"Work with me, Mel. Please. You're brilliant and no, HR is not right around the corner."

Jack can see Mel smile from where he's standing, as if it's worn with an "Oh, yeah. I can do this."

"Just be careful. I have a mind to think that, possibly, Dr. Robinavitch is already interested in her. Please don't tell anyone that I even think that. I don't--really even think that? It's more so an observation that could totally be misconstrued as--"

"Yeah, well...he probably wouldn't be the only one."

"...Who are we referring to?"

The girls leave with singular laughter, but Jack doesn't move. And again, he'd never linger on a conversation just to make himself...twitch, and get tense.

But here he is, his face calm with a breathing that's steady--but shallow, sharp. He stares at the floor as if trying to reason with himself. It’s nothing. They were joking. It was just talk.

But the words—not the only one—they keep echoing.

Who else? Who else but Robby and everyone fucking else?

His mind flashes to how you laughed with Robby earlier in the day, tossing a roll of gauze at his head. How you snuck a granola bar into Perlah's and Mohan’s scrub pockets, or the way you called Santos "Santi" while you patched her up and got her tested when she got stuck with a needle.

Everyone loves you. Everyone's drawn to you. But before, that would've only been an observation, something to tease you over. Not something to turn make his fist bleed.

He bled for people before, got his leg blown up for them. Killed for them, in a different life. But that was for country, and even though that’s a lie in itself, that made sense. There was purpose he found in that for a moment.

How is his rage and blood and...entitlement over you purpose? Even if he could ever...ever actually love you mutually? How could this all be worth something?

Who else?

"Abbott! What--what happened? What the fuck happened?"

Jack opens his fist. He didn't realize he was dripping onto the floor, that thin line made by the depths of his nails. He blinks at his wound, and barely at Dana.

"Jack, you alright?"

"...I guess it's time for sutures. I didn't mean to--wow. Did not mean to color the floor. Sorry, Dana. I'll call Ahmad, I think he's on tonight."

"...Jack--"

Jack begins to walk away, he can feel their charge nurse follow and fail to.

"Do not clean this up. That's not your job. Hell, it's not Ahmad's. I'll be back with towels."

Is that it? Would it feel any more...worth it if he did have you? Would he be easier on the man he's becoming if he had you? God, hopefully not. Hopefully he'd get his fucking act together, because look. Apparently, it's dangerous. Bloody.

Either way, he'd have to become worthy of having you in the first place, and that's never gonna fucking happen.

[takimakiiiii]

The Adventures of Loverboy and Twinkle Toes ~

lando norris x driver!female & platonic!grid x reader

angst, fluff, more angst with a dash of extra angst + established relationship + breakup 

¡happy ending! dw, i’m not that mean

TW: swearing/profanity, bullying

WC: around 1k-ish?

disclaimer!: not all of these stats are accurate and the timeline doesn’t stick to the 2019 as it had to change for the story also the drivers had to be shuffled around for the story to make sense. basically it’s a big of a mess ALSO THERE IS USE OF Y/N IN THIS FIC

a/n: this has been sitting in my notes app for the last few month cuz i got bored one night at 3am

ALSO THE STARTING IS SO CHEESY SO LIKE BARE WITH ME IT GETS BETTER I SWEAR 😭

also with the driving parts it’s so bad okay I don’t even know what I’m talking and so pls don’t hate on me 

sorry if it’s so bad I just wanted to finally post this so it doesn’t die w me in my notes app

<—————————————————————————————————>

You first met Lando Norris at the ripe age of 8 and my god was he an asshole. A constant pain in the ass, he attended the same private British school you did in Bristol, an academy for only the brightest and well, richest in the country.

Lando Norris’s family was a wealthy and famous one too, it wasn’t a secret. Yours, on the other hand wasn’t, and that too wasn’t much of a secret either. You’d gotten a scholarship to attend the academy after winning a competition. And from the minute you stepped into the school Lando Norris never failed to make you feel like you didn’t belong there. 

You came from a line of mechanics and at a young age your Father got you into karting. And it was clear you had a talent for it.

Well as expected, it didn’t sit well with Lando, you were the only girl. It didn’t sit well with any of the boys who you karted with. That brought along of other things too, you were treated like a boy, something that you’d come to expect whenever you stepped onto the track. The boys would call you horrible names, something such a young girl shouldn’t be hearing, they’d belittle your wins and make you feel like shit.

You were a girl who’d fallen for a boy’s sport. 

Something Lando would constantly remind you over and over again - that you didn’t belong there. Not at the fancy rich academy and definitely not on the race track. Only to make matters worse, he was incredible at karting. By the time you were both seniors at the academy he was already well on his way to the glory of F1.

Yet somehow you both were always the ones battling in that final lap, perhaps that’s what made him hate you so much was because you offered something no one else could:  competition. 

“Hey Twinkle Toes, you’ve got balls coming back onto the track after what you pulled last time.” a voice cut through the silence of the garage.

That same voice that had been annoying you for years on end, snapped you from your train of thought. You looked up and saw Lando pulling his gloves on, looking down on you as you sat on the steps of the garage. Something inside you began to tick, like a bomb about to go off. 

He was referring to your last competition in which you’d pushed him off the track, unintentionally of course but he didn’t see it that way. He’d had a good yell at you afterwards in front of everyone, embarrassing you in front of all the other boys too. You clenched your fists as you stood up, yet his height was unmatched as you glared up at him. You hoped your face was able to match up the words that were about to leave your mouth. 

“Yeah? Well at least I have balls dipshit.” you retorted angrily as you picked your helmet up from the stairs. 

You turned around and he was now closer, a few mere centimetres away from your face. You nearly caught yourself jumping in surprise but managed to keep a collected face as he spoke. 

“If you try that again today you’re going to wish you never stepped foot onto that track. Got it, Twinkle Toes?” his voice was laced with poison as he stared straight down at you. You stared back into his deep green eyes that seemed to glint with a harshness you’d grown to hate. You poked your inner cheek as you bit back an insult, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. 

“Whatever you say, Loverboy.” you replied with a humorous chuckle as you walked past him. You could basically feel the anger radiating off him as you exited the garage, heading in the direction of the track as your pulled your helmet on. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

“What? Do you think you’re better at karting than me?” Lando asked as he lowered himself to your level, you were still sitting at your desk. His hands were down on the wooden table as he glowered down at you. Class had just finished for lunch and to explain it briefly - Lando wasn’t happy how the race had ended that weekend. 

“I don’t think I’m better than you, Lando Norris. I know I am. So why don’t you stop being such a dramatic prick and leave me alone.” you shot back with a smile, knowing that would piss him off. You picked up your books and stood up, he did the same, now towering over you once again. You could feel his eyes on you as you pulled your bag off the chair. 

“You’re so full of yourself, you don’t belong here Twinkle Toes, you never have and you never will. You’re a fucking outsider.” he replied, you swallowed hard, letting out a shaky breath. You knew you shouldn’t take his dumb remarks to heart but the words would often eat you alive because deep down you knew he was right. Surrounded by all these rich kids with their rich parents, compared to them you were absolutely nothing. 

“Fuck you, Norris.” you spat, inhaling slowly, looking away so he couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Go cry about it.” 

And that’s how you found yourself sobbing in the bathrooms during lunch. 

You could hear hushed whispers outside of the stall as other girls walked in and out of the bathroom. You knew they could hear you crying, yet none of them had the decency to even ask if you were okay. Rich British  people were just like that, you guessed as you wiped your face with the back of your hand. 

“Is someone crying in there?” a girls voice whispered in a hushed tone outside of the stall, you could see two pairs of black shoes and white socks from underneath the door. 

“Yeah. I think it’s-“ the other girl replied, voice dropping low out of earshot. There were more hushed whispers before you heard one last remark.

“He’s such an asshole.” 

That, you could agree on. 

There was a moment of silence before a gentle knock came through from the other side of the door. Your heart jumped in your chest as you stared at the stall door, the girls on the other side still unknown.

“Hey girl? You okay in there?” one of the girls asked. You weren’t sure how to answer so you got to your feet and slowly unlocked the stall door. It swung open to reveal two girls, one a tall sun kissed girl with beautiful braids. The other, a pretty asian girl you recognised from French class, her name was Lisa or something. 

“Hi.” you finally said. There was a long dreading moment of silence as you waited for them to laugh in your face but it didn’t come. 

“It was what’s his name, Lanky Norris or something, right? He likes to pick you on, doesn’t he?” the tall girl asked, you instantly liked her. You let out a laugh through tears, the two girls smiled, success clear on their faces. 

“Yeah.” you nodded, wiping your face for any stray tears that still lingered on your cheeks. 

“He’s so annoying, the only reason he’s here is because his Daddy’s rich, ya know?” she grimaced as she crossed her arms.

“You’re also here because of your Daddy’s money, Sandy.” Lisa reminded her with a gentle nudge, you let out a laugh at Sandy’s frown. 

“Okay, calm your farm, girl. I’m trying to insult him to make our new friend here feel better.” she shot back, throwing an incredulous look your way as she shook her head. 

Lisa held her hands up in defence with a grin on her face. 

“Okay, okay. Well, Y/N, let’s get you out of here and get you something to eat.” she suggested. The two girls pulled you out from the bathroom stall and you left the bathroom with two new friends and a smile.

<—————————————————————————————————>

Lando had heard the rumours going around, two popular girls he wasn’t a big fan of had found you in the girl’s bathroom crying. He knew he was the one at fault for that, Lando knew you weren’t as strong as you came off to be. But he always let his pride and selfishness take over because the truth was you were right, you were better than him. And he knew it too. 

And that’s what pissed him off the most is that you were and would always be better than him. Not only at karting, in school and everything else too. 

He guessed he owed you an apology, the hard truth was that he sort of admired your strength, you weren’t as strong as you came off to be because you were much more stronger. He’d seen you be treated badly by most of the other boys on the track, but he was too much of a coward to stick up for you because that would mean his feelings for you would be obvious. If only you knew-

“What do you want, Norris?” 

He stopped in his tracks oblivious to the fact that he’s stopped right next to your locker. His palms instantly became clammy like they did each time he saw you as he attempted to find his words that had gotten caught in his throat. 

“I didn’t- I mean- “ he stumbled on his words, mentally cursing himself as he made a fool of himself in front of you.

You let out a scoff as you shut your locker door with a loud SLAM, gaining the attention of other students who lingered around, their eyes floating toward you both. Lando flinched from the sound, becoming aware of the surrounding eyes.

“Save it. Your words mean nothing but shit to me.” you spat angrily. 

Lando stood defeated as he watched you walk away. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, his mind was telling him to do something, but what? He didn’t know. 

“I’M SORRY!” he yelled at the top of his voice before he lost the courage to do anything at all. Everyone in the hallway stopped to stare at him. If people hadn’t been interested, they sure were now. A scarlet red hue appeared across his face as you slowly turned and walked up to him, a giant grin on your face. 

“What’d you say? I don’t think I heard it the first time?” you held your hand to your ear, propping up on your heels. He let out a sigh, you could be a big pain in the ass when you wanted to be. Yet he could still fell his heart beating ever so loudly in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbled, aware of all the eyes now watching you both. 

“Didn’t catch that, wanna repeat it one more time?” you asked, a smile pulling at your lips as you leaned closer which only made his face redder. 

“Fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said all those thing. It was dumb and fucking stupid. You do belong here, hell you’re probably the only one who does, you didn’t use your parents money to get here unlike the rest of us. So, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve all of the shit I’ve put you through the last few years.”

You pulled away, staring him in the eyes you nodded. A silent thank you. 

“It’s alright, Norris. It’s no secret i’m better than you anyways.” you chimed with a laugh. Lando felt his heart flutter as your laugh echoed through the hallway. 

“C’mon, we have English class.” you turned on your heel and that’s all it took for Lando to follow after. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

School passed in a quick intense blur as both you and Lando graduated in no time. A couple months after becoming close friends you’d gotten together, a bit of a shock to everyone at school who’d only ever seen you fighting before. Especially Lisa and Sandy, whom you were still close with despite your busy schedule now.

Your relationship with Lando was going great, both of you had slowly moved from the ranks of F4 to F3 to F2 and now you were both at the age of 19 soon to make your F1 debuts. 

Lando had signed with McLaren, a team he’d had close ties with ever since he was a teenager his father was a close associate with Zak Brown. Lando alongside Carlos Sainz were to be the 2019 McLaren team. 

You, on the other hand had signed with Ferrari, a big dream ever since you were a young kid. You were going to be driving with Charles Leclerc, a guy who was like a god to your family. You’d be driving alongside some of the greatest drivers of all time, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Fernando Alonso and many more. 

It was no secret that you were dating Lando, most of the public seemed to take it well and the media weren’t too concerned with trying to pry into your relationship. One thing you were thankful for. Yet you were oblivious to the fact that it might change once everything started in F1.

You knew with Formula 1 more obstacles would come your way and attempt to break you and Lando’s relationship, you just hoped it would be enough to stand it all.

“Hey love? You alright?” Lando’s voice sailed across the living room of your parents’ house from the kitchen. Your silence when he asked a question prompted him to check if you were okay.

“Yep.” you quickly replied, laughing when Lando poked his head from around the corner for the sole purpose to raise his eyebrows at you. 

“You sure? Wanna talk about it?” he offered, walking over to you and joining you on the couch. You smiled as you pressed up against him, pecking him gently on his cheek. 

“Just thinking about what it’ll be when the season starts.” you told him as he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to lean against him. His touch allowing a sense of peacefulness in the moment making you believe it would be okay. 

“Me too. It’s kinda of scary isn’t it? Everything we dreamt of is coming true.” Lando mused as he leant his head down against yours. You let out a gentle exhale, “Yeah.”

There was a long moment of calm silence as you both sat there in the comfort of one another. Lando drew circles on your palm with his fingers as you closed your eyes. 

“But. . .?” Lando offered, looking down at you with a soft smile. You chuckled, “You know me so well.” you grinned as you nestled your face in the crook of his neck.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asked. 

You let out another sigh as you pulled away facing the tv that was playing FRIENDS. 

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just scared of what might happen to. . . us. You know? I’ve seen what can happen to couples when their lives are shoved into the spotlight.” you held your breath as you looked up at him, awaiting his reaction. 

He gently rested his head on yours again, relieving the tightness inside you. 

“That’s not going to happen to us, I promise, Twinkle Toes. I trust you, I trust us. I always have. Whatever happens we’ll get through it together” he assured you with such certainty it nearly made you believe him. You smiled, he always managed to make your heart flutter no matter how long you’d been together. The chemistry had managed to continue after all these years was unmatched.

“I love you, Loverboy.”

“Love you more, Twinkle Toes.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“ITS LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO.”

Your heart jumped inside your chest as you hit the accelerator, the car moving forward to your command. It almost didn’t seem real, the loud cheers of the people in the grandstands were one to rival a concert. 

It was the same exhilarating feeling each time you raced, pressure but nonetheless excitement resting on your shoulders. The first few laps went by smoothly, you were in P12 after beginning in P14 after qualifying. Not too bad if you could say so yourself.

Soon enough you found yourself in the second last lap, you were currently in P6 after a spinning out from Daniel Ric took out three other drivers. The commotion after that had lasted quite a while as everyone was forced to wait. But the race still continued,  a certain McLaren was on your tail as you both fought for P6. You were struggling to keep Lando at bay, defence was never one of your strengths. In this case it proved to be a big liability.

The waving checkered flag came around in no time as you and Lando crossed the finish line half a second apart. 

“Who’s pole?” you asked your radio engineer as you pulled off the race track, loud cheers greeting you as you stopped the car.

“Hamilton, P1, Verstappen P2 and Leclerc P3.” your radio engineer replied. 

“Sweet, that’s great for Charles.” you replied, “Good job guys, P6, that’s not half bad.” 

<—————————————————————————————————>

The 2019 Championship went by in a quick exhilarating blur. And so did 2020, 2021 and 2022. Covid posed a problem for a while but everyone managed. Lando and you had been stuck at home focusing on other things, he with his Twitch channel and you on your own things. 

Maybe you chose to ignore it, too focused on your career to pay attention to the cracks that had begun to surface in you and Lando’s relationship. 

So now here you were in off-season awaiting 2023. Both unsure of what to do with each other’s time after being away from one another for so long. 

“Hey, love? You going to come sit down and eat?” Lando’s voice called from the kitchen table. You’d moved in together in an apartment in Monaco not long after your first F1 season. A sense of hopelessness tainted his words, one you chose to ignore. 

“Yep! Give me like one second!” you yelled back from your bedroom. You knew you had to stop pretending everything was fine, it clearly wasn’t and you both knew it too. 

It was the time and the media at fault, something you would constantly tell yourself over and over again. Yet if you really thought about it you could only really blame yourself. There was no use in blaming all of those other things if it was just the two of you in the relationship.

You got up and walked into the dining room, smiling softly upon seeing Lando sitting down already. But the smile wasn’t reciprocated on his face and the one on yours had vanished by the moment you got to the table.

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.” he said gently, looking up at you. You let out a breath one you hadn’t noticed you were holding, nodding as you replied. “Yeah.” you breathed, the shakiness in your voice evident. 

You took a seat across from him and awaited for everything to spill out. 

“What’s been happening? What happened to us?” his simple words hung in silence as you found your own. 

“I don’t - I don’t know.” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes that you knew were filled with disappointment, you stared down at the plate in front of you.

“Then why haven’t we tried to fix it? Is this it? Do you not want to be with me anymore?” he asked, his voice breaking as he looked at you helplessly for your answer. Your heart jumped as you looked up at him, his face breaking your heart as they searched your eyes for an answer.

“No! Lando, of course I want to be with you, I just- I’m scared.” you inhaled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. Your heart was thumping loud in your chest as you closed your eyes. 

“Scared of what?” Lando asked, reaching his hand across the table to hold yours. You took another breath in. . . and the words slipped out. 

“They want me to take your seat at McLaren.”

“What?”

“No- It’s not what it sounds like, I promise. I just found out, I swear. I was going to tell you when they told me but I-” you stammered as you searched to find some way to salvage from the damage that was now done. 

“When did you find out?” Lando asked, his hand had now retracted from holding yours and now at his side. Your lip wobbled, unable to lie to him you answered, your throat closing in on you. It was something impossible, a change in seats and teams being so close cut to the season? 

It was basically impossible and yet here you were. 

“At the end of last season.” you managed to say as your voice wobbled.

That was well off two months ago. 

You knew you should’ve told him the moment they suggested it to you. It would’ve been the right thing to do but you just could never find a good time to tell him. Yet that was just something you’d told yourself to make it seem better.

Lando let out a scoff, “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, standing out of his chair, a loud scraping noise filled the apartment, dinner on the table long forgotten. You stared up at him, regret tainted your face. 

You stood up too, reaching out for him. 

“I did, I mean I tried to. I just didn’t know how to tell you, they didn’t want me to. I know I should’ve told you. I’m sorry Lan, I really am.” you stammered, tripping over your own words. 

He pulled away from your grasp like you had burnt him. “I thought we were in this together, I trusted us, I thought you did too. But apparently not.”

“No, wait, Lando. Stop, where are you going?” you asked helplessly as you followed him to the door. He grabbed his keys from the kitchen bench, unable to look in your direction as he answered. 

“I have to go. Go somewhere away from you.” 

The front door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed against the wall in a heap of sobs. 

<—————————————————————————————————>

A week passed and Lando didn’t come back home. You called him, texted, all of them going to either voicemail or delivered and unanswered. 

You tried asking the other drivers of the grid whether they’d spoken to him but they all answered with the same thing: that he’d asked them to leave him alone for the time being.

You hated yourself right now. You should’ve told him the moment McLaren offered his seat to you. You had been scared that if he knew he’d leave, and well, keeping it from him resulted in just the same thing you wanted to avoid. 

You wanted to feel mad, mad at him because your selfishness couldn’t help but want to blame him. Yet, you knew it was wrong, the only person at fault was you. So here you sat in the waiting lobby of McLaren, surrounded by so many people who were associates with Lando it made you feel like a fool. You felt as if everyone was staring at you and not only that but judging hard as if they knew what had happened. 

That’s when you spotted him, Lando was walking through the lobby, he was in the same clothes as that night. Your heart dropped as you stood up, unsure of what you were going to say him but you pressed forward. Your footsteps echoed around the lobby as you caught up to Lando who wasn’t yet aware of your presence.

“Lando!” you called, he paused and hesitantly turned around to face you. All those walls you’d broken down throughout the years were now back up again as he stared at you coldly. And it was just like it was back in school, Lando staring down at you as you looked up at him helplessly.

“What are you doing here?” he asked bluntly as he looked pass you, unable to meet your gaze. You swore your heart broke a little when he wouldn’t meet your eyes.

“Please don’t do this, Lando. I know I messed up. I should’ve told you the second they offered the seat to me. I didn’t want to lose you, I thought that if you knew you’d leave.” 

“Well looks like you’ve lost me either way. I don’t care about the seat, Y/N. I care about the fact that you chose to hide it from me, I thought we were in this together.” his eyes flitted from your eyes to away as he took a step backwards. You could feel him slipping from your heart, you reached forward. 

“We can! Please, I promise we can fix this, I can fix this. Just don’t leave me, please.” the words tumbled out of you only to come out as desperate and pathetic. It was wrong, you knew it too. 

“I can’t do this right now, Y/N. I have to go meet Fred Vasseur at Ferrari.”

“Ferrari?”

Lando let out a sigh, stepping past you as he replied.  

“Yeah. Ferrari’s offered me your seat.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach as you watched Lando walk out the McLaren doors. Tears slipped from your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you stifled a sob in your hands. You watched him leave, taking your heart with him.

<—————————————————————————————————>

A couple of months later

“Race in 15 minutes.” a voice called in passing as you sat on the steps of your garage. Your eyes floated around to where Oscar stood next to one of the engineers, both peering down at a screen, jabbing at something on it every so often whilst nodding. 

Oscar was the other driver who joined the grid this year to race alongside you with Mclaren. He was a young polite funny Australian guy and from what you’d heard and seen- one of the best drivers of the newest generation. He’d already impressed you before on numerous occasions when you would go with Lando to go watch the F2 races when you got the chance. The two of you would go watch your old buddies race and join them in drinking afterwards. 

“All good.” you replied, anxiousness creeping its way into your voice as you attempted to banish any thought of Lando. You swallowed hard as you pulled your gloves on, hands trembling as they did before any race. 

It was the first race of the 2023 season, there was a new lineup of drivers, some old, some new. Many of the drivers had transferred teams, this included both you and Lando, Carlos, Daniel Riccardo making his comeback and a couple of others. 

You and Lando had both decided to call it quits after the whole thing that went down during the off-season. The other drivers were aware of what had happened and honestly it didn’t take a lot of thinking to put the two things together. You and Lando had swapped seats at Ferrari and McLaren, and alongside it your relationship had crumbled and fallen apart. Charles and Max, the two drivers you were closest with and looked up to like brothers had also provided comfort, saying they would’ve done the same. But you knew it wasn’t true, they just said it to make you feel better. 

You and Lando hadn’t spoken since the day he’d packed everything up and left the apartment. You’d been absent when he’d left. 

Neither of you had the bravery to reach out yet and neither of you could too busy with other things. Yet, two months later you still missed him, longing for his comfort and endless love he’d given you. It made you feel sick, it all felt so misplaced and wrong. 

Both Sandy and Lisa had provided you with solace and comfort with their weekly movie nights at your apartment with buckets of ice cream. But it wasn’t the same, you still felt like you were missing something. Or someone. And either way, it would’ve been Lando. 

Life just felt so wrong without him. There wasn’t anyone to ramble to each time you came back from work, no one to sit down with and watch corny movies with popcorn with. No one to sit on the balcony with and watch the stars late at night, no one to go on day trips to beach with and build sandcastles only for them to be swallowed by the ocean at the end of the day. 

All of those things you’d found within Lando ever since Day 1. He was the person who kept you grounded, the person who’d stay up rubbing circles on your palms late at night when you couldn’t fall asleep or who would keep you company as you cooked in the kitchen.

And all because of a few dumb thoughts you’d lost it all in a mere few days. If you could turn back time you would’ve gone back and fixed everything. Now the only thing you could do was sit and wallow in regret and self pity.

<—————————————————————————————————>

You felt a soft tapping on your helmet, you looked up through the visor of your helmet to see Charles standing next to you, a wide spread grin on his face. 

You broke into a smile as you stood up, pulling your helmet off. 

“Hey old man, what’s up?” you greeted your former teammate with a hug. His smile dropped, replaced with a grimace upon hearing the nickname from you. 

“Came to see you, you traitor. Can’t believe you’d choose this colour over this colour.” he remarked in disgust as he pointed to your suit and then his own.  You had to admit, the bright red did look a lot nicer than the papaya orange you were currently sporting.

“Part of the job, I can’t say no unfortunately. It’ll grow onto me eventually.” you shrugged spreading your arms out and looking down at the papaya coloured suit. 

Charles clicked his tongue dismissively before his expression turned soft, something you’d seen too much of lately. 

“You sure you okay though? Have you spoken to-“ he cleared his throat, leaning in before whispering, “Lando.” like it was some sort of forbidden word. You bit back a laugh. 

“It’s okay you can say his name.” You chuckled, Charles eyed you suspiciously.

“Are you sure? Because the last time I did you cried for 2 hours.” He answered. 

You swatted him defensively, “That was ages ago!”

“That was last week.”

“Whatever.” You huffed, crossing your arms. 

“Will you talk to him?” Charles asked. 

“Nah, it’s fine though, we can’t talk. Not for now at least.” you told him, but your voice was strained as your eyes flickered around the garage. Charles knew you hadn’t taken breaking up with Lando well. As your “older brother” alongside Max the two of them made it their sole mission to keep you from harms way, that being Lando. 

He looked at you with pity, you caught his eye before scoffing. Wallowing in self pity was something you’d done too many times this year. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Charles.” You said, letting out a huff. 

“Like what, Y/N?” he prompted cautiously. You couldn’t get pissed at Charles, he knew it too. After all, that’s what a big brother did, annoy the shit out of you. 

“That you feel bad for me. I’m fine, I swear.” 

But you didn’t believe the words that came out from your mouth either. He chuckled as he ruffled your hair affectionately before you swatted his hand away. 

“I know you are, petite soeur.”

Your nose scrunched up at the nickname Charles had dubbed you ever since your first season. It meant little sister in French or something like that, you were yet to Google it.

He let out one of his contagious laughs before patting you on the back gently, before leaning in and whispering;

“But seriously, if you want Max and I can push him off the track anytime.” 

“Okay, time to go, old man.” you said as you shoved him out the garage door. He rounded the corner with one last dumb grin and salut. 

“See you out there, petite soeur!”

<—————————————————————————————————>

1 more lap to go. 

You could feel your foot getting a cramp from switching between the accelerator and brake, you could feel beads of sweat rolling down your neck and your breathing was heavy. 

Right next to you, battling for P2 was Lando. Such a coincidence. Thanks universe, you thought as you turned the steering wheel as you rounded turn 3. Max was long gone in the distance probably nearing the checkered flag already leaving the rest of the grid in dust. 

Zhou and Stroll were out already both crashing into the same barriers at turn 7, something you were used to at this point. (IM JOKING, I love them)

In the corner of your eyes you could see and feel Lando closing in on you, pushing you off the track. 

You gripped the steering wheel, turning it in the direction of the Ferrari but he was quick to use this as a chance to slip in front of you as you both rounded a corner. You hit the steering wheel angrily as you watched Lando in front of you. 

A long strand of curse words left your mouth as you crossed the finish line. The FIA was sure to have fun with that.

 Your heart was pounding in your ears loudly as you pulled the car aside to a stop. Your team cheered, you’d gotten on the podium. But it wasn’t a win to you, you’d fallen for Lando’s terribly obvious trap and allowed him to take advantage. You felt like such a fool, he seemed to have that effect on you. 

Thanks, universe, you’re a pain in the ass, you thought as your team surrounded you celebrating loudly. Any thought of Lando disappeared in an instant as you were pulled into hugs from your team and instead replaced with smiles and laughter.

You were pulled up onto the platform next to Max, and Lando whom you avoided interacting with the entire podium stand part. Everything after that was a quick blur until the after race press conference. 

“Here we’re joined by Max Verstappen, Lando Norris and Y/N 

L/N.” 

You forced a smile, honestly the only thing you wanted right now was to be at home eating ice cream with Sandy and Lisa. Or be sleeping, you’d be okay with either of those options. Yet, here you were sitting on a couch alongside your friend and ex-boyfriend in front of a bunch of reporters.

You glanced over at Max who’d thoughtfully placed himself in between both you and Lando. Something you were sure to thank him for afterwards. He sent you a gentle smile, one you returned without hesitation.

The first couple of questions were pretty simple ones, you avoided adding onto Lando’s answers and he to yours and there was no need to. 

That was until a young female reporter took the opportunity to ask about you and Lando’s relationship. Something that caught you unprepared and by surprise.

“So Y/N and Lando,” she began, you could feel your heartbeat spiking as you looked around, every PR training you’d sat through instantly disappearing from your mind. 

“There’s been rumours going around that the seat transition wasn’t something that was thoroughly discussed before the contract signing. Is there something you’d like to add on about this?” 

You swallowed hard as you avoided meeting Lando’s gaze, one you could see in the corner of your eye. 

“N-no comment.” you managed to say.

“Right. So how about you and Lando’s relationship status, there’s been some sources claiming-“

“Okay. I think that’s enough. We’re here to answer questions about the race, nothing else.” Max cut off as he stepped in with a stern voice, one that was sure to make anyone go silent. You prayed to god that no one heard the giant sigh of relief that you let out after Max interjected. You could feel yourself shrinking under the stares of all the reporters and photographers as you sat in front of them. 

The rest of the conference went by in plain awkwardness, answers were now only answered by Max, yet another thing you had to thank him for. 

You finally exhaled as you stepped out of the conference room, Max behind you, Lando had gone out the other door. You leant against the empty corridor wall, head pressed against the cool plaster. 

“That was a nightmare.” you groaned loudly, the exhaustion obvious in your voice. Max let out a sigh as he crossed his arms disapprovingly. 

“That was unacceptable on their side to allow the reporter to keep asking such questions.” Max mused, anger tainted his voice. You let out a laugh as you turned to him. 

“Thanks, Maximilian.” you broke into a grin knowing how much he hated being called that. He huffed disapprovingly, “Maybe next time I wont save your sorry ass.”

“Okay, okay. Calm your farm, pal.” you replied as you both began walking down the corridor headed toward the entrance where there was sure to be a giant crowd waiting. 

“I’ll go get that reporter fired.” Max announced loudly despite it only being the two of you in the corridor. You looked up at him, holding back a laugh despite the look on his face being the opposite.

“Admirable goals, but it’s fine really. I’m sure Twitter will have a fun time tearing her apart.” you waved it off with a gentle smile knowing just how brutal the audience on Twitter could be.

Max chuckled, “Everything else okay though?” You knew instantly what he was talking about, you appreciated the concern, you really did but you could handle yourself. 

Your smile fell, replaced with narrow eyes and a clenched jaw as you eyed him.

“Did Charles put you up to this?” you asked him skeptically, he shook his head. 

“I’m allowed to worry about you too, you know.” he added with a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Thanks Maximilian, for everything.” 

“Okay, you can shut up now.”

<—————————————————————————————————>

“Y/N?” 

“One second!” you called, trying to avoid the oil that was spattering into a puddle beside your face. You were currently in your father’s mechanic shop underneath a car working away at it. You were still blowing off steam after the press conference that had happened on the weekend and your father was more than happy to lend you the garage for just that. You knew some part of you wanted Lando to approach you after the race, even if it wasn’t to talk but just to say something, you know? 

But even if he had you were sure how you’d react. 

“Can you pass me the wrench?” you called to the unknown person. You heard a loud clatter of metal before a wrench was stuck in your face. 

“Thanks.” you grumbled as you took it from them, pausing as a shock of realisation hit you. 

Wait, that watch on their wrist.

Your dumbass tried sitting up on the board while still under the car. 

BAM. 

“Ouch, fucking hell.” you swore loudly as you pulled yourself out from underneath the car. Rubbing your forehead in pain as you stood up, before your eyes settled on the person in front of you. 

Your mind blanked as Lando stared back at you. You could see him biting back a laugh at your misfortune. He was in a white shirt, one button too many undone for you to know where this was going. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he stood watching you as you walked his way. 

“Fine. Laugh, you asshole.” you grumbled as you brushed past him. Gripping the wrench in your fist as you held back the strong urge to whack his head in with it. Lando laughed and you’d be lying if the sound of it didn’t still make your insides turn and do flips. 

“Calm down Twinkle Toes, I’m not here to laugh at you. I’m here to . . . apologise.” his tone turning serious, you let out an steady exhale. 

You missed being called that, it was a dumb nickname he’d given you as children, back when you were each other’s biggest rivals on the track. 

Twinkle Toes and Loverboy, a duo to rival Chandler and Joey. Or at least that’s what your dumb asses came up with at the time. 

You let the wrench fall from your grip and onto the bench with a loud metallic clatter, breaking the silence before you spoke. 

“Yeah.” you breathed, staring at the wall in attempt to not let your guard slide down so easily. 

“Want to go for a ride?”

You turned around with a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and all. Lando stared back at you, heat flushing up your cheeks as a smile tugged at his lips. 

“What?”

“C’mon, Twinkle Toes, let’s get out of here.” he said with a gentle nod of his head in the direction of his car parked outside. 

And that’s all it took for you to drop everything and follow him out the garage. 

<————————————————————————————-—————>

You let out a soft gasp when Lando pulled up at the track where you both used to race on during your karting days. The sun was already beginning to slip back the mountains and buildings and out of view, you bit your lip nervously as you opened the car door. 

Was this right? 

Were you making a big mistake? 

Despite your lingering doubts you followed him onto the empty track. The first few minutes of walking were full of silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable despite everything that had happened. It was peaceful of all things.

“I-“

“I-“

You both immediately retracted your words as you both began at the same time. You looked away, “God this worse than that movie we watched that one time.” you murmured with a soft laugh. Lando found himself chuckling knowing exactly which movie you were talking about. 

“Let me go first, then.” he offered, you nodded silently. A long string of silence filled the air, only the sound of your footsteps on the track could be heard. 

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Honestly? I would’ve done the same thing. I shouldn’t have given so easily on us, I should’ve given us a second chance. Because bloody hell these last two months without you have been absolute shit. I don’t even know who I am without you, and maybe in someway that’s a bad thing but I don’t care as long as I have you.” he stopped in his tracks and faced you, his dark green eyes reflecting the light in the sunset as it cast its gaze over his face. 

Your hand cupped his cheek softly, your heart fluttering when he pressed his face into your hand, loving how it fit perfectly. 

Just like that it was like you were both high schoolers again. Slipping out of class to steal kisses in the hallways before they were crowded with students. Sneaking out at night through your window to go walk around the streets late together. 

You swallowed hard and spoke.

“After everything happened, my life completely just stopped still. And it felt like I had lost half of who I was because the truth is, Lando, that you’re a part of me. Ever since we were kids it’s like without you i’m lost. I should’ve told you the moment they offered me the seat, I was just ashamed and scared. Because I wanted a future with you, because I still do. I want to marry you, have a family and grow old right next to you.”

You stared longingly into his eyes as he pulled you closer. You fell into his arms as they wrapped around you like your own protective shield. Because the truth was that Lando was your home. You let out a shaky breath, as you pulled back and leant in for a kiss only for your lips to be captured in a gentle motion. 

It was something out of a cheesy teen movie, one that the two of you would just hate - two figures kissing as the sun set in the back of a race track. 

“You’re crazy.” you whispered against his lips. 

“Crazy for you.” he whispered back, sending you both into fits of laughter. This was it, this was right, this was home. 

“C’mon, let’s go home Twinkle Toes.”

“After you, Loverboy.”

A/n: STOP ITS SO CRINGEY I WANNA DIEE

Jk.

Tysm for reading! I apologise again for the bad writing, this is just an old piece that I really wanted to get out there, I hope u cringed just as much as I did reading this! Stay safe and have an amazing day - xoxo takimakiiii (yes I changed my name it was long overdue lol)

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

I wish I hated you

Summary: You never thought a family dinner would include the father of your children, but after you and Joel finally talk, things might slowly start to heal between the two of you.

Pairing: past Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Rating: T

Warnings: angst, crying, talk about past shitty behaviour, more sorry's, beginning of moving on, feelings and their denial, more feelings, it's complicated cause these fools deep down love each other, food, regrets

A/N: It's been a while, but Part four is finally here. I was struggling with this but I finally have the idea for how to end this. One more part and we're done. Hope you enjoy this (and if not, don't tell me lol)

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part four of invisible string

Life in Jackson quickly became your new normal, apart from the fact that he was here too. 

Leo and Ana were thriving, going to school every day. They learned to write and to read and to count and they were excited to tell you about every little thing they had learned in school every time you picked them up. 

You already had a big collection of pictures they painted in class all around the house too. 

You had been in Jackson for almost four months now. 

You brother, being the more open one of the two of you, already had made a lot of friends. He was a trusted part of the patrol group and went out at least twice per week.

He also was officially dating Lauren, the school teacher as of the week before. 

And you?

You were… okay.

After the first two weeks of living in Jackson you had started the working rotation to find out how you could provide something to the community and you had been happy to now be working at the kitchen every morning to prepare breakfast and lunch service at the community hall. 

Cooking had always been your happy place.

You hadn’t really made any friends. 

You were working with Carl, Andy and Lisa in the kitchen, and you were going to weekly dinners at Maria and Tommy’s place. 

You and Tommy had a long talk shortly after you arrived.

He had told you how sorry he was for everything that happened. He felt guilty for leaving out of the blue, without telling you, knowing how bad Joel had been back then. 

But you weren’t mad at him, and you told him that. 

It wasn’t his responsibility to stay back just because his brother did. Tommy had believed he would find something better when he left with the Fireflies. And even though it hadn’t worked out with them, his life still changed for the better. 

Leo and Ana were ecstatic to have a little cousin in Sammy. Of course you had to explain what cousin meant, which also meant that Tommy became Uncle Tommy. A title he took with pride. 

Life was good. 

As good as it could be with anyone doing their best to not mention the big elephant in the room. 

Joel.

You hadn’t seen him more for a couple of moments since the morning he came to pick up your brother. That did not mean you had not heard about him though. 

Your brother Calvin apparently had been paired with him out on patrol a couple of times and you were more than surprised when Calvin asked you how or if he should answer when Joel asked him questions about you and the twins. 

Apparently after the first couple of almost silent patrols out, Joel had to began to ask about you on the latest patrol. Something that surprised you, if you were honest. 

You really didn’t think Joel was thinking about you. Even though he told you he was still in love with you all those weeks ago. 

How was the man who said all those cruel words to you when you needed him most still in love with you?

And why hadn’t you been able to stop thinking about him ever since that first night you saw him again?

He had not only hurt you, he had broken you. Had blamed the whole pregnancy on you alone, as if he wasn’t the one who had fucked you and had came inside of you. 

You were always on the verge between angry, hurt and longing when it came to Joel and you had no fucking clue what to do about it. 

So, after taking some time to think about your brothers question over what to tell Joel when he asked about you, you took matters in your own hands and had made the decision to talk to the man in question yourself. 

You had asked Maria where you would be able to find him and she had told you that he was working on a house on the other side of town together with Tommy for the week. Apparently the girl, Ellie, wasn’t feeling too well and Joel did not want to be on patrol until she got better. 

So on a rainy day, after you got your kids to school, you found yourself walking towards the house Maria had told you. It was Tommy you saw first when you walked up the stairs, his eyes widening in surprise before he nodded his head up, silently telling you that Joel was upstairs. 

You were thankful that the house seemed to be empty apart from Joel who you could hear hammering upstairs. Taking a deep breath you pulled your soaked rain jacket off, hanging it on a doorhandles downstairs, before you walked up. 

He must have not heard you walk up the steps, his back turned towards you as he knelt on the floor, hammering some floor boards. You approached him quietly, leaning with your shoulder against the doorframe of the door he was working in. 

It gave you some time to look at him. 

Noticing the changes in his appearance in the last six years. 

It seemed to you that he aged quite a lot since the last time you saw him. There was a lot more grey in his hair than you remembered. 

When you looked at his hands you found him wearing his wedding ring. The one you had put on his fingers, the one that he hadn’t worn much when you were still together. 

You were more than surprised that he still had it. 

He stilled for a moment before his head turned towards you, as if he had sensed you standing there. Surprised he raised his eyebrows before he put the hammer down, pulling himself up to his feet with a groan, his joints popping. 

You continued to look at him, now noticing the deeper lines around his eyes. 

He seemed nervous as he looked at you. 

„Calving told me you have questions,“ you said after a while.

„I do,“ he said with a small nod. 

„Why?“ You asked. 

„So I know that you and the… that you are okay. That you don’t need anything,“ he said. 

„You did not care about me when you told me to get the fuck out of your life,“ you said before you could stop yourself. He visibly flinched, closing his eyes. 

„I should have never said that,“ he whispered, looking at the ground as he shook his head. 

„No, you shouldn’t,“ you agreed. 

For a while the only sound that could be heard was the rain outside. 

„I revisit that day every single day and I can’t understand why I said those things,“ he said all of the sudden, looking up at you. 

„I can not understand why I treated you like I did. And I am not talking just about that night. I am talking about the whole time. Every time I told you that you deserve better, I meant it. I wasn’t… I am not what you deserve. I am broken. Maybe that’s why I kept lashing out at you. To make you understand.“

„It’s because of Sarah,“ you said and you could hear him take a deep breath, his eyes closing. 

Only saying this name had him shouting at you in the past, but you weren’t afraid of his reaction now. 

„You push everything and everyone away because you feel like it was your fault that Sarah died. And so you push everyone and everything away that could potentially hurt you like Sarah’s death did without realising that it is you how is hurting you,“ you said. 

A tear slipped down his cheek. 

„They ask about you,“ you said and he furrowed his brows.

„They ask about their Dad. In the community before they did not have an actual school, but the kids got to hang out three times a week and every time friends of them were picked up by their father, they asked about where their Dad was,“ you sighed. 

„What did you tell them?“

„That their father was out and looking for a better world for us,“ you whispered, blinking your own tears away. You looked at him with a sad smile. 

„They look so much like you. They both have your eyes and your curly hair. And your stubbornness,“ you said the last part with a small smile. 

Joel chuckled. 

„I’m sorry for that,“ he said with a head shake. 

„Can’t wait for them to be teenagers. It’s gonna be a ride,“ you said. 

Joel sucked his bottom lip in before he spoke.

„If you need help then, or… anytime really… I have some experience with moody teenagers. Sarah was…,“ a small smile sneaked to his lips, „Sarah could easily bribed with food. My Tacos to be specific. And since Tommy found a Taco press and there’s a whole field of corn currently growing….“

„I’ll keep that in mind,“ you said softly. 

Tommy called for help from downstairs and you sucked your bottom lip in. 

Joel grabbed his toolbox.

„We have dinner at Tommy’s place every Thursday,“ you said as he turned towards you again. 

He nodded. 

„If you like, you and Ellie could join us tomorrow,“ you said, before your brain could talk you out of it. 

„Are you sure?“

You huffed a laugh. 

„Not really. If I’m honest I am terrified of getting hurt again, but I am also tired of running. There is still this part inside of me, that wants you. That is and probably always will be in love with you. But while I figure this part of my feelings out, you can get to know your kids, if you’d like,“ you said.

He nodded slowly. 

„I’d really like that.“

You had never been more thankful to have found a friend like Maria. 

After telling her that you had invited Joel over for Thursday night dinner, you had freaked out immediately. Maria knew everything. You had told her you whole history with Joel after she had shown up with a bottle of wine on your doorstep a couple of weeks after you had arrived and you had spilled your feelings after two glasses of wine. 

Knowing your whole history with Joel did not help Maria’s dislike of him in the least. She judged him for the things he had done to keep the people he loved safe. How he made Tommy participate. And even though you could have just let Maria rant about him and his ways, you found yourself defending him. 

Something Maria could not understand in the beginning. 

How you could defend a man who killed, tortured, robbed and hurt people without any consequences. A man who hurt you so baldy you fled across the country while being pregnant. 

And logically she was right. There was no sane reason why you should be defending him. 

Then again, falling for the man in the first place was probably not the most logic decision you made all those years back. 

You just did.

So here you were, a glass of wine in your left hand while you „helped“ Maria cook dinner. You could hear Leo and Ana in the living room as they played with Tommy. 

Usually your brother Calvin would be here too, but it was his girlfriend's birthday to day and they had plans.

„You ready to forgive him? Just like that?“ Maria asked. 

You shook your head. 

„This is not about that. He’s their father,“ you whispered the last sentence. 

„And no matter how much of an asshole he was to me, I don’t want to stand in the way of them having a relationship, if he wants to have one,“ you said.

„I think he wants the whole package,“ Maria said, stirring the soup she had made.

You raised one eyebrow. 

„Joel came over to help Tommy fix the roof last weekend, and he stayed for dinner and some drinks afterwards. I overhead them talk about you from upstairs,“ she said quietly. 

„He is pretty damn determinate to win you back. Said he never loved anyone as much as he does still love you and that he’ll spend the rest of his life worshipping you on his knees if you gave him another chance,“ Maria said. 

„He said that?“ You asked. She nodded. 

„They were already some beers deep into the conversation, but yeah. I had my doubts, I still have them. But I can’t deny that the man is in love with you. And he’s a great father to Ellie, even though it’s complicated between them at the moment.“

Before you could react there was a knock on the door and you felt yourself tense up. 

Maria gave you a warm smile. 

„Better get out there, before Tommy tells them who exactly Joel is,“ she said and your eyes widened before you walked towards the door. 

Joel had been nervous many many times in his life. 

But nothing seemed to compare to the moment he knocked on the door of his brothers house, knowing you and his two kids, the kids he never met before, were waiting behind it. 

He had spent almost twenty minutes trying to find an outfit for himself, like this was some kind of date. Which technically it was. It was a date to meet his children for the first time. And the first step to hopefully earning your trust and forgiveness. So when he saw his blue flannel, the only piece of clothing that had survived all the way from Boston, your favourite shirt on him, it felt like it was a sign. 

„So these kids really don’t know who you are?“ Ellie asked next to him. He was more than glad she had agreed to come with him tonight. Though Maria cooking her favourite dinner might have been the real reason she agreed. 

Things with Ellie were still tense. 

And that was another thing he was to blame for. 

He should have told her the truth from the beginning. Not that it would have made the whole situation about Ellie feeling like she lost her purpose better, but at least he wouldn’t have lied to her. 

Lying to protect the people he loved seemed to be a pattern in Joel’s life, that he needed to work on too. 

„They don’t. I don’t know if or when she will tell them. So please don’t mention it. I know you’re not my biggest fan at the moment, but those kids should not have to suffer because of it, okay?“ He asked. 

Ellie rolled her eyes with a sigh. 

„Won’t spill the beans, promise,“ she said.

The door opened and Tommy grinned at them. 

„Fancy seeing you here,“ he said, Sammy on his arm who already made grabby hands towards Joel. He found himself smiling at his little nephew before he reached over to take Sammy from Tommy. 

„Yeah, Yeah. I was promised food,“ Ellie grumbled, pushing past the men.

„Still a ray of sunshine, huh?“ Tommy teased, rubbing through Ellie’s hair and she slapped his hand away with a long groan.

Joel followed them inside, closing the door behind him, Sammy still on his arm. His hands were clammy as he heard Ellie introduce herself to Leo and Ana. Sammy looked up at Joel, putting one tiny hand on his cheek, making raspberry lips. Joel find himself smiling, the nervous flutter in his stomach dying down a little. 

„Hi,“ he heard your voice and he turned his head as you walked out of the kitchen towards him. You were wearing what looked like a oversized black sweater that went to the middle of your upper thighs and a leggings beneath it. You looked cozy and he wanted nothing more than to pull you in his arms and….

„Hey,“ he said, interrupting his train of thoughts.

„You want me to go in with you? Introduce you?“ You asked. He found himself nodding.

„I am gonna tell them that you are Joel’s brother. Nothing more right now, okay?“ You asked again and he nodded again. 

„Okay,“ you said before you turned away from him, but he reached for you before he even realised he was moving, catching you by surprise, as he carefully wrapped his hand around your wrist. He could hear you little gasp as you turned back to him, your eyes searching his. 

„You look beautiful,“ he whispered squeezing your wrist.

He watched as you took a deep breath, your eyes slipping close for just a moment before you opened them and gave him a small smile.

The combination of seeing Joel wear the shirt you had gifted him for Christmas in 2014 and seeing him hold Sammy in his arms was a little overwhelming. 

But that was nothing compared to your body reacting to his touch as he told you that you looked beautiful. You flushed so hard, you were sure you could melt snow if you stepped outside. 

It was various kinds of fascinating that he still had that effect on you. 

Taking a deep breath as you turned away from him you walked inside the living room where Ellie was already sitting between Ana and Leo who were explaining their rules of Monopoly to them. Tommy had found a lot of boardgames on patrol a while back and borrowed it for tonight. 

You did not think playing Monopoly was a perfect bonding experience (it was war really) but who were you to complain?

„You gonna play too Mommy?“ Ana asked as she saw you, giving you those big pleasing puppy eyes she had from her father. 

„After dinner. I promise. But we play the official rules and no cheating like the last time,“ you said with narrowed eyes and Leo giggled. 

„Hi Ellie,“ you smiled at her and she gave you a small wave before she looked back at the game.

You took a deep breath.

„Remember that I told you that there would be guests tonight? You already meet Ellie, and this is Joel. Tommy’s brother,“ you explained to them. 

They both said Hi to him and you looked behind you finding Joel’s watery eyes on them. 

„You gonna play with us after dinner too, Mr. Joel?“ Ana asked with hopeful eyes. The dimple that mirrored Joel’s showing on her cheek as she smiled.

Joel cleared his throat and you found yourself stepping closer to him, hesitantly taking his hand.

He looked at you and you gave him a small nod. 

„I’d love to.“

It was way past the twins bedtime when you finished the second round of Monopoly. Against your hesitations, no family war broke out and Maria declared herself the winner, much to the disappointment of Ellie. 

It only took you three hours to understand why Joel was so protective of the girl. She was funny, smart and took no shit from anyone. 

Ana and Leo had been sleeping on the couch for at least an hour when you were helping to clean up the table.

„Can we… do this again?“ Ellie asked hesitantly while Joel was helping his brother in the kitchen to dry the dishes. 

„We do this every Thursday. You are always welcome to join, Ellie,“ Maria said.

„Cool,“ she nodded and you smiled, before you looked towards the couch, wondering how you would get those two kids home. 

„You think Tommy could help me get Leo home?“ You asked Maria.

„Why? We live on the same street. Joel can help,“ Ellie said before Maria could answer. Maria chuckled.

„She’s right, you know?“ Maria said. 

„I always am,“ Ellie said as she walked towards the door, calling one loud bye into the house before she stepped outside. 

There was a part of you that did not want this evening to end. 

It really felt like you were a family. 

After dinner the kids had went right into their first round of Monopoly, Tommy and Joel joining them as you had helped Maria in the kitchen. 

All you thoughts about this evening being awkward disappeared as you had come back into the living room to find Leo sitting in Joel’s lap, both of them grinning and plotting against Tommy who had Ana on his lap. 

You knew that both of the kids were so much like Joel. But seeing Leo and Joel like that made you realise that he really was a Mini version of Joel.

It made you wonder how the last years could have been if things had went differently. 

But maybe he just wasn’t ready for it back then.

„Thank you for dinner, Maria,“ Joel said as he walked back into the living room. 

„Yes, Thank you for dinner Maria,“ Tommy grinned as he went over to her, kissing her softly. 

„Oh by the way Ellie volunteered you to carry Leo home,“ Maria said towards Joel who raised his eyebrows in surprise. 

„Is that so?“ He asked with a chuckle.

„You don’t have to though. I can go ask Calvin…“ you began but he shook his head, walking towards the couch and carefully picked up Leo who, as if sensing it, put his arms around his neck, continuing to sleep soundly. 

You gulped, giving both Tommy and Maria a nervous smile before you walked to the couch, picking Ana up. She snuggled against your neck. 

„Good night,“ Maria and Tommy whispered, following you down the hallway to their door. 

„Good night,“ you whispered back, taking a deep breath before you followed Joel. 

Ellie must have went home already, leaving the two of you alone on the short walk to your house. 

„I can’t believe I voluntarily gave all of this up because I was such a coward,“ Joel said quietly as you walked into your street. 

„They are pretty awesome huh?“ You asked and you could hear the smile in his voice as he answered:

„They are everything.“

Once you were at your house you guided him upstairs and into the twins room. He carefully put Leo into his bed before he walked out of the room as you undressed them and put them into their pyjamas. Giving both of them a forehead kiss you walked out of their room, closing the door behind you.

Joel was nowhere to be found so you walked back down, finding him sitting on the porch steps outside. It had started to rain again. 

When you approached him you could hear him sniffling, your heart breaking. 

„Why don’t you hate me?“ He asked as you sat down next to him. 

„I pushed you away. I pushed my wife away, the only woman I ever truly loved. I pushed you away because I was scared to loose you. How fucking stupid can a person be? Why am I like this? I lost everything and rightfully so and yet here you are, giving me a chance to meet the children who I wanted you to…“ he stopped himself. You could see him shaking as he cried, his head lowered, his face hidden behind his hands. 

Hesitantly you let your head fall on his shoulder, one of your hand coming to rest on his knee. 

„I wish I hated you,“ you whispered;

„But I just can’t stop loving you.“

[storiesofsvu]

Rituals

Rita Calhoun x fem!reader Warnings: language, minor angst/hurt-comfort. Anxiety, general like, sadness I guess? This is a post-SSS update. There will likely be more in the future as I cannot leave this world alone and it all fits so well together and I love it so freaking much. 4.2k

Rita was always anxious on the days you were scheduled to come home from an undercover operation, never knowing what the actual outcome was going to be. She hated the days that all she got was a quick phone call, an update that the op was extending and she wouldn’t be seeing you for another month. Worse were the days you’d come home with lingering bruises marking your skin, or the one time she had to meet you at the hospital, your Captain forcing you for a full work up and observation after a concussion and other injuries. But today was different.

Today she woke up feeling jittery, the usual excitement about getting to see you vacant from her body, nerves tingling through her instead. She felt so off she even refrained from coffee until nearly noon, managing her first cup alongside delivered lunch as she took a break from laundry. Rita always wanted the house to be clean when you got home, fresh sheets on the bed, things tidy and neat, a hinting smell of cleaning supplies lingering through the kitchen and a nice candle or two burning in the living room. It was something she started doing for you not long after the two of you moved in together, prior to that she didn’t really notice or realize just how much of an impact going undercover had on you. Having to be on and ready to go twenty-four hours a day, sometimes stashed in crappy little apartments with barely any fresh air in the same clothes for a week on end. Sometimes you were thrown in so quick you didn’t have time to do more than prep for the case, coming home to rotting vegetables and no clean laundry. Those days you started going straight to Rita’s place, your body aching to relax, finally able to let go of all the tension you’d been holding for however long. It didn’t take her long to figure out what you needed and how to combat any lingering stress and anxiety, how to welcome you back into your real world. Now it had become part of her routine, a ritual to make sure things were as perfect as they could be for the person she loved the most.

Rita stabbed her fork into her salmon salad, forcing herself to chew another bite at the island as her eyes searched through the living room. It wasn’t too bad, a blanket bunched up on the couch, a personal development book her therapist recommended left abandoned beside it, the novel she’d picked up instead tucked in the cushion. There were a few case files and obviously a collection of coffee mugs scattered across the coffee table, a handful of dishes in the sink. She doubted it would take her that long to finish everything so she took the opportunity to open her phone and place a grocery order while she battled her anxiety and attempted to finish her lunch. She was adamantly trying to shake out of it, continually telling herself that she was being ridiculous, that she had no reason to be this stressed about seeing her literal wife again. It wasn’t some weird gut feeling that something was wrong, it was her apprehension about a few changes she had made while you were gone, the worry about how you would react to them, the fear churning in her gut that you were going to hate them or not understand.

As she finished stashing the cordless vacuum in the hall closet she let out a sigh of relief, pushing her hair back with her hand, still finding it jolting when her hand was free so much faster than it had been a week prior. She found herself fiddling with the ends of the bob as she wandered the apartment, making sure everything was ready for your arrival before she finally headed to the shower. Warm water cascading across her body mixed with the lavender soap seemed to be helping calm her down, her eyes softly shutting when she washed her hair and her heart didn’t seem to be pounding so hard in her chest. Wrapped in a towel she blow dried her hair, taking the time to style it a little bit, putting on just the bare minimum of make up to feel a little more pretty before slipping into cozy clothes. She had a text from Olivia on her phone, saying you had offered to run the last of the paperwork over to Carisi on the way home, but she’d officially kicked you out of the precinct.

Rita took a breath, taking one last look in the mirror to survey herself, her hands smoothing down her shirt before she tugged on a cardigan, scooping up her phone and grabbing her glasses before wandering out to the living room. She tucked herself into the corner of the couch, eyes flitting between her book options until her pulse kicked up again and she opted for the self care one, tossing the blanket over her legs. She got halfway through her chapter by the time she heard someone in the outside hallway, her ears pricking up at the sound. She knew it could be a neighbour, but the book gently lay open in her lap as she looked over the back of the couch toward the door, hope surging through her that it would actually be you.

A tinkling sound echoed through the wood, the lock moving a second later and she couldn’t help the warmth bursting in her chest as you half toppled through the door. Your hands were full, a large Tupperware in one, go bag tossed over your elbow with a plastic bag in the other. You’d obviously changed out of whatever your UC look had been in, leggings and an NYPD tee clinging to your frame, your work issued windbreaker draping from your shoulders.

“Hey, sorry I’m so late.” You started, while kicking off your shoes, crossing to place the items in your hands down on the island, “got caught up at Carisi’s with the girls and ‘Manda. But he did send me on my way with homemade chicken piccata and a bottle of pinot so neither of us can really be mad.”

“It’s alright.” She laughed softly, slipping off the couch to properly greet you.

“I’m just happy Liv wasn’t a drill sergeant about finishing paperwork, I—” You stalled suddenly when you actually looked up at her. Rita felt her heart leap into her throat at the way your eyes widened and for a moment she was scared until a smile burst onto your face, “oh my god, you’re blonde!” Three very quick steps later and you were directly in front of her, your hands combing through her hair as you admired her new look.

“I take it that reaction means you don’t hate it?” She asked timidly and you laughed, your hand cupping her cheek.

“Are you kidding me? You look absolutely gorgeous baby.” Still caressing her face you leant in, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. One that Rita utterly relaxed into, all the jitters in her body melting away at the feeling of your embrace, both incredibly happy to have you home and the relief she hadn’t done something drastic that you despised. You took a moment to hold her close, letting out a soft sigh as you nuzzled your nose against hers before kissing her again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you more, believe me.” She huffed gently, her hands raising to cup your cheeks before they slid down your neck, squeezing at your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I had to go; I know the timing was shit. Last thing I wanted was to leave you on your own.” Your thumb brushed across her cheek and she leaned into the embrace before shaking her head, fingers wrapping around your wrist and turning your hand so she could leave a kiss on your palm.

“You have an important job, I understand. Just the way you do about mine.”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, a soft smile on your cheeks before your hand raised again, continuing to comb through her hair, playing with the ends. “I never thought I’d see you with hair this short. It’s kind of a drastic change.”

Rita chuckled softly, “Liv and I got to talking, she said a drastic change really helped her after everything.” Her gaze drifted to the kitchen island behind you, “that it took some of her control back. She couldn’t change what happened, the things she experienced, but she could control what happened going forward. She mentioned how we’re the ones who make decisions about our bodies, appearances, that we can alter them whenever we want and that can remind us of who’s in charge.”

Your fingers twirled a strand of her hair before trailing down her cheek and curling under her chin, redirecting her gaze to you, “I love that.” You pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, “I didn’t realize you and Liv were hanging out.”

“Darling, Liv and I have been hanging out far longer than you have been a part of her squad.” She teased and you laughed, squeezing at her hand.

“I’m sure.” You reluctantly slipped out of her grasp, “I need to change. I showered at the precinct but I’d much prefer my own clothes.”

“Please tell me you weren’t covered in blood this time.”

“Would it help if I said it wasn’t mine?” You suggested and Rita grimaced, her nose crinkling in the way you adored so much. “If you haven’t eaten, the food should still be hot, if you don’t mind plating it up, cracking that bottle?” You raised an eyebrow toward the island and Rita nodded, a smile on her cheeks as you disappeared down the hallway.

You made it back relatively quick; face now bare of any remaining makeup, Rita’s Harvard shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts covering your body as you returned to the couch. You’d chosen to curl up in her corner, snagging the blanket and picking up her non-fiction, fingering through a few pages before placing it down on the table when she approached.

“Thank you.” You smiled as she passed you a plate of food along with a glass of wine.

“I believe all thanks go to Carisi.” She shot back and you laughed.

The television had some soft jazz playing, the soundtrack Rita preferred when she was reading or working, something comfortable to occupy the space without being overbearing. It was perfect as the accompaniment to your dinner, something calming as you readjusted to real life and Rita welcomed you back into your shared home. She was only slightly worried with how you scarfed down your dinner, her mind wandering, thinking about when your last actual meal had been before she reminded herself that you’d gotten very good at taking care of yourself on these operations over the years. The lectures from your mother were one thing, but when they started coming from your wife it turned out you actually listened.

You placed your now empty plate down on the coffee table, a gentle sigh leaving your lips as you picked up the wine glass, taking a large sip. Resting back into the corner of the couch, your arm laid across the back of it and you looked over at your wife, a small smile on your cheeks.

“What?” She finally asked, finishing her last bite of chicken.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, “just appears your hair wasn’t the only change you made.”

“What do you mean?” Her eyes darted around the living room, thinking she had left something embarrassing out.

“Looks like you hit up a mall or two, the closet is practically all new clothing.”

“Oh..” she chuckled awkwardly, “I guess it is.”

“A lot more neutral colours…” You left the sentence hanging, surveying her for a moment, “cute stuff though. Some of them almost political looking, you change you mind about that?”

“God no.” This time she did let out a laugh, swapping her plate for her wine glass.

“Well they look nice. I’m sure you and Raf had a great time picking them out.”

This time she ducked her gaze, a little huff blowing out of her nose as Rita felt a sense of melancholy sweep through her, “I actually went with Sam.” She glanced up to see your head tilt, your brow furrow.

“Sam?”

“Maroun. Manhattan ADA.”

“Oh! I think I’ve seen her around, works with Price, right?”

Rita nodded, “she’s nice, has a fire to her that reminds me of myself at that age, honestly I think her and Casey would get along wonderfully. But most importantly her fashion sense is fantastic.”

“I’ve heard good things.” You took a sip of wine, “I guess I just never thought you’d find a better shopping partner than Barba.” This time Rita nearly tensed on the couch beside you and your brow furrowed again, “what?”

“About that…”

“Rita… what?”

She sighed heavily, taking a gulp of her drink, “we… aren’t really talking anymore.”

“What?” You felt a little ridiculous repeating yourself again without meaning too, shaking your head as you tried to refocus, “sorry…I just… you guys are best friends, you’ve been through it all.”

“We had a falling out.” She shrugged, “I guess we’re just both too stubborn to see two points of view and that was the demise.”

“Clarify, please?” You raised a brow in her direction, giving her a minute to gather her thoughts. You frowned at the sight of tears building in her eyes, this was clearly more than just a stupid argument or something they both fought on.

“Do you remember the case Ed came to me about? Back in twenty eighteen?”

“Yeah, Ana. She was being charged with some terrorism bullshit despite the fact she was being manipulated into everything and never actually made a shot.”

“Rafael never understood that one. He thought I was being ridiculous, that I must have fucked something up royally and desperately be in need of money.”

“She was a rape victim.”

“I tried to tell him, over and over again. That it didn’t matter she didn’t speak up right away, I didn’t need it on the record. I told him he could at least give me the grace to look me in the eye and agree, that sure, his bosses would tell him to bury it, but we could pretend. I thought it wouldn’t matter because deep down we would both know the truth; Ana wasn’t evil she was a victim.” She took a shuddering breath, “all he said was that he would ‘do his best.’” She scoffed, “all I could think was that he was rolling his eyes over someone who had done something to escape, who only wanted to be free. He didn’t see her, didn’t understand her position, he didn’t want to help her at all. She was a victim… and he didn’t give a shit.”

“Rita…” your hand reached out, squeezing softly at her ankle.

“I wish it ended there, honestly I do. If it was just me being a stubborn bitch we could probably repair things, but it wasn’t.” She sighed, “every time we saw each other that case was just hanging over our heads, we fought instead of just playful bickering. He kept bringing Ana up, how dare I defend someone like her, what good could I possibly have gotten from standing up for her. When he found out I was visiting her regularly, making sure her commissary card was full, he absolutely lost it.”

“And you saw yourself in Ana.” You stated, your hand finding hers along the back of the couch. Rita let out a long breath, nodding.

“I want to say that case was the beginning of the end but I’m sure it started with Abbey’s.”

“Did you ever tell Rafael about what happened to you?”

She groaned, “there were a few offhand comments here and there. Things I hoped he would pick up on, I mean he was the sex crimes ADA for six years for Christ’s sake.” She let out a watery laugh, “Olivia picked up on it, he never did.” Tears began to cloud her eyes once again and for some reason she felt shame burning through her body, “I just wanted him to understand. And before I could, he disappeared. If we’d still been talking I would have been the one to represent him in court, things would have gone magnificently better and maybe he wouldn’t have had to run off to another state to find himself. We iced each other out and honestly it might be for the better, every time we pass each other in the firm hallways he has that look in his eye whenever he sees me. It’s like he can’t decide whether he still hates me or whether to treat me like I’m broken.”

“Rita, I’m so sorry.” You squeezed at her hand, “I had no idea. I wouldn’t have kept inviting him around, I just assumed.”

“It’s okay.” She wiped at her eyes, “it’s probably good we’ve been forced to cohabitate, maybe one day we’ll actually figure things out again.” She let out a long blow of air, focusing on her breathing in order to not let another tear spill over this, she didn’t want to spend much longer thinking about how she’d lost her best friend, how so much had happened that she was sure their relationship would never be the same.

“I hope so.” Your fingers traced across the lines of her palm, “anything else you want to talk about?”

Rita’s eyes flicked up to yours, a nervous look on her face and your head tilted, a small smile on your cheeks, “I’m honestly not sure if you’re going to like it.”

“I’m in support of anything as long as long as it involves us being together.” You replied and she chuckled, taking another deep breath before she spoke, her gaze drifting out the window.

“I.. I think I want to take some time off.”

“Babe, you know I’ve been in support of that. You need to take the time, probably longer than either of us realize, you deserve it after all of this. I mean, what does your therapist say?”

“They agree. But what I’m worried about is that we don’t have the same idea.” She looked up at you and your stomach nearly plummeted,

“Rita…”

“No! No, nothing like that.” She took a heavy breath, “I need to step back from criminal defence. Maybe permanently. I need to refocus on cases that actually mean something, where I know what I’m doing is right, where my client is someone who needs the help, especially if they can’t afford it. I want to work closer with Casey and Alex, do more of what they do.”

“I think that’s fantastic!” You squeezed her hand again, “I mean, you’re going to be amazing wherever you are but you’ll kill it at that.”

Rita smiled softly, “and…if there’s more?”

“What? Did you resign from mom’s firm?”

She sighed, taking another swig of her wine, “no, but I did put in a leave of absence.”

“Oh?” You raised a brow, watching as your wife took a breath, sinking into the couch behind her.

“I didn’t want to. But it was Casey who convinced me into it. Said she had her own issues in the past that she didn’t take the proper time to recover from and it ended up affecting her entire career.”

“Nearly got her disbarred, yeah.” You looked across at her, “so what are you thinking? Remodel the bedroom? Consume yourself with reality tv? Take up CrossFit?”

Rita laughed, though this one was not like any before, it was almost a sad one, her chest tightening as she looked across at you. “Well.. I was thinking…” she started, her heart throbbing in her chest, “that maybe I would check out that new resort in the Alps.”

“Babe,” you chuckled warmly, “I can’t. I used my vacation time already; Benson won’t let me.”

“That’s… why I was thinking about going alone.”

Rita’s words hung heavy in the apartment, the realization washing over both of you. A sense of relief flooding through her veins as she finally let all her thoughts out. Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched your reaction, the slight widening of your eyes before they softened, a small smile on your lips.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Unfortunately yes.” She let out a sigh, “darling, believe me I would love nothing better than a couple’s retreat but—”

“You need time alone.” Your hand raised, stopping her, “especially right now. I get it.” Leaning in you kissed her cheek. “You take all the time you need. You’re the love of my life and I would do anything for you, especially if it helps you heal.” You grasped her hand in yours.

“Thank you.”

“Rita… you mean the world to me; I’m not going to be upset if you need time to cope with shit. You’ve had so much happen and I had to disappear right after it was all getting exposed. I didn’t want to take this gig but—”

“You needed to.” She shut you off with a squeeze to your hand, “we both know how our jobs work, that’s part of the deal.”

“Exactly.” Smiling, you leant forward, kissing her softly, “so how about I take you to bed and remind you just how much I love you? Then whenever you’re ready I’ll take you to whatever airport you need to rejuvenate.”

“You would do that for me?” Rita asked, pulling away only an inch and you smiled.

“My love, I would do anything for you.” You shifted on the couch, wrapping your arm around her shoulders and tugging her to you, letting her relax into your side. “Rita, I’ve been head over heels in love with you for eleven years and that’s not changing anytime soon. I made a promise to be there for you no matter what, through thick and thin, for whatever you needed. I’ll miss you like hell, but if what you need is room to breathe and it so happens to be the air of a different continent, then so be it.” You placed a kiss on the top of her head, “I want you to be happy, healthy… at peace. So yes, I’d do that for you, because I know that you would do the same for me.”

“A hiatus is exactly what I need.” She murmured, nuzzling deeper into your embrace.

“I think after all these years you definitely deserve a break from the courtroom. It’ll be really, really good for you.” Your hand came up, toying with her hair, “Alex and Casey both took substantial ones… voluntary or not.” You both laughed, “and they both said they helped a lot. I was with Case for part of hers.”

“I remember. Your mother wouldn’t stop complaining.” She taunted and you rolled your eyes.

“It was crucial for her, especially after everything else she had been through that had bottled up inside, shoved deep down into a box to be ignored. She said she finally felt free again.”

“That’s all I want.” She murmured and you felt a twinge of sadness move through you at the tremor in her voice.

Rita felt trapped; she was trapped even after the verdict coming back in her favour. The darkness of what happened still hanging over her as she tried to move on surrounded by the places and people that held the memories of trauma. A weekend in the Hampton’s had lifted it a little bit but she’d returned to the city and thrown herself directly back into work, burying herself in it like she usually did to avoid dealing with things. Only this time, it wasn’t working. She needed to take a break from the courtroom, have a month or more of not dealing with other lawyers, no more motions or subpoenas, no more spending hours at night going over closing arguments. It was more than just a hair cut and new clothes, it was about reinventing herself, rediscovering how to maneuver through this world. She was more than well aware what her new wardrobe represented, what she wanted to present herself as when she made a return. She was still Rita Calhoun, she would forever be a shark in the courtroom and would always make the best fight for her clients, get them what they deserved. But she didn’t want to pull the amount of attention that she used to, wanted to be able to drift through courthouse halls without all the head turning and whispers. She had a new lease on life and she was planning on taking full advantage of it, not letting another second go by wasted or clinging onto the past.

Which is why two weeks later you were walking her up to security at JFK, a slightly tearful see you soon, but one that you were nudging her in the right direction. After all, you would be right there to greet her the moment she got back and you were there every single moment onward. You were each other’s rocks, bound together by the love and life you had created, as you were meant to be. You knew that no matter what, you could get through anything life through at you, because you had each other.

___________

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___________

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[daveth-isnt-dead]

Overlock Stitch Part 3/?

Summary:

Viktor is just trying his best to survive his years as a student at the academy when a girl studying textiles suddenly begs him to let her tailor his uniform. She is right, it doesn't fit, but he isn't in the business of accepting charity from strangers. "Please?" She asks, "It would be fully anonymous on your part and we would both be better off." Then again, but with feeling, "please?" Viktor eyes her again and against his better judgement, presents an undeserved olive branch, "Will you be here tomorrow?" Her smile is so wide it almost makes him want to recoil. He wonders if her cheeks hurt.

Contains: Third person POV, She/Her Pronouns for reader

Word Count: 3,991

Read on AO3

She doesn't see Viktor for a few weeks after that, he came by to collect his uniform and allowed her to take her photos before offering little more than a curt 'thank you' and disappearing through the door. She tries her best not to be too hurt by this, after all, one forced, awkward interaction where she could accidentally stab him with a pin at any moment is not exactly the usual first step in making friends. Not that she has ever been good at following that particular rule-book anyway.

If she pokes her head out at the right time on Thursday she sometimes still catches him on his walk through the fine art wing. One time she was brave enough to wave at him, but he either didn't see her, or did and pretended he didn't. Regardless, she couldn't find the courage to try again. The few times she has seen him, she hasn't been able to resist admiring how utterly stunning he looks in his properly fitting uniform. She just hopes that is has helped somehow, that he gets fewer stares in the hallways and most importantly, that the alterations she made to his trousers make it easier for him to get ready in the mornings. Especially now that the cold outside is biting.

It's still another fortnight before her final assignment for the term is due and she has been working on cataloguing both photos and sketches for all the tailoring work she has done. It is mostly alterations made for her father, some fittings for classmates, one wedding dress alteration, and the work she did for Viktor. The photos of his uniform turned out nicely despite her difficulties getting the film into the camera. Her heart does perform a traitorous little flutter each time she glances at any of them, the photo of his waistline post-tailoring is especially perilous, she tries not to look at it.

It's early evening and the sun has already well set outside the academy, but she knows that she wont get any more work done if she goes back to her dorm. Her radiator has been playing up and she has been avoiding contacting academy maintenance about it for the last few months. She doesn't feel like she belongs here half the time already, the last thing she needs is the academy thinking she is some sort of nuisance. With how cold it is tonight, all she will manage to do back home is climb into bed. So she stays late in the warm textiles workshop, sketching and annotating in preparation for her assignment. It's also nice to have the place to herself, even for just a few hours. She is usually forced to engage in exhausting faux polite conversation with Eliza and her other classmates. It gives her a headache, makes her teeth hurt. She has grown quite comfortable in the silence, sitting in the low light of her worktable's lamp as she works to arrange her portfolio. So the sound of the door to the workshop opening has her yelping and knocking half her photos and sketches off the desk. She whips around, quickly trying to come up with a polite way to tell whatever classmate has interrupted her to get lost, only to freeze in place when she sees that it is Viktor lurking in the doorway.

"Hello!" She squeaks, immediately regretting everything about her delivery of the single word.

Viktor's brows draw together, "Hello. I-" His eyes dart down to the pile of photos at her feet, "I am sorry for startling you."

Oh. She hadn't been expecting an apology. A nervous giggle escapes her, "It's alright, really! I'm easily startled."

Viktor laughs too, it's warm and sounds surprisingly genuine, "Yes, you certainly are."

They both sit in a lingering, uncomfortable silence for a moment. She can't manage to figure out why exactly he is standing here in the workshop, can't think of what she is supposed to say, what he wants her to say.

"I'm-"

"You-"

They both laugh at the failed start, and the energy in the room feels suddenly lighter. Viktor inclines his head towards her, "You first."

"Oh, okay, um." She chews her lower lip, it had been easier to say when it was off the cuff, but now that she's had a moment to think about it, she suddenly feels like it is far too presumptuous, "I'm happy to see you again, that's all." she says quickly, picking at her cuticles.

Viktor hums, his intense eyes peeling back her layers again. It makes her hands grow clammy.

"You did an impressive job with my uniform. That is what I was going to say." He replies.

Her stomach flips and she clutches her hands tightly in her lap, "Th-Thank you, I'm glad." She's nervous and her mouth moves faster than her brain, "I've been thinking about you, I-I mean, your uniform and I was really hoping that it had helped. It means everything to me, it really does."

An almost smirk tugs at the corners of Viktor's mouth, "You have been thinking about me?"

Sudden heat rushes to her cheeks, "About you uniform! That's what I said!"

Viktor shrugs a shoulder, "Suit yourself." he takes a few steps forward, allowing the door to slide shut behind him, "What are your going rates when it comes to favours?" He asks evenly.

She blinks at him, confused, "I'm sorry?"

"Topsiders rarely offer an act of kindness without a charge. The values and complicated, payment does not come back until months down the line when they need something from you." He steps over to her, ducking down and collecting her mess of photographs into a neat pile before handing it back to her, "One of my classmates gave me directions to my first lecture and then about two months later he all but ordered me to complete his assignment for him. I would not assign those two acts equal value, personally, though, maybe topsiders have found a way to charge interest on favours, it would not surprise me."

He speaks clearly, succinctly, and she realises that this is the most he has ever said to her, by a wide margin.

She swallows, hoping that she knows the right way to respond, "Eliza, my classmate, brought me a pastry before the end of first semester last year. She still holds it over my head anytime she needs something from me. The funny thing is, had she just been genuinely friendly to me, I would have helped without the need for threatening pretence." She gains the confidence to meet Viktor's eyes and finds his appraising expression encouraging, "It's exhausting, playing these games every day. I'm just not cut out for it. So my going rates for favours is complimentary, as it should be."

Viktor's lips quirk up in a smile, wide enough that for the first time, she catches a glimpse of his teeth. They're crooked, lacking the benefits of modern Piltover dentistry and she is enchanted by them, can't help picturing the shape of the imprint his bite would leave behind

"That is good." He says with a nod, "Very good."

He leans against her worktable, peering down at where she still sits in her chair, she gulps, averting her eyes, "I take it you need something from me, then?"

Viktor turns his head and crosses his arms. His open, almost playful posture tightens into something far more self conscious.

"I meant what I said." he beings, rapping his fingers against his arm, "My uniform is far more comfortable now and those eh, alterations you made were very-" He brow creases, "Accommodating.'

She can feel herself relaxing, unfurling almost, hearing that her work had managed to help, that it had meant something to someone.

Viktor looks at her out of the corner of his eye before continuing, "I told you I was not interested in charity when we first spoke and that is still true, but I am hoping you might be interested in getting some more practice, as it were."

She smiles wide, she can't help it, "Do you want more alterations? Is that what you're saying?

Viktor's next smile is shockingly warm, "Ah, there is that spark of yours. Yes, the rest of my wardrobe now feels woefully inept."

She quickly darts her eyes up to the clock and back, "The wing is going to be closed in a few hours, it's probably not enough time…but I would love to! Maybe tomorrow? Or the day after?"

Viktor barks a laugh, "I did not mean now."

Her enthusiasm gets away from her, she can't help it, "But if you have time now, then we could, or I mean, you could always-" too familiar, too familiar by far, she freezes, staring down at her toes, "Sorry. Never mind, I'm just overexcited, forget all of that."

Viktor's brows draw together and his jaw tightens, "Stop doing that around me, I am not one of your Piltie classmates, I despise it just as much as you do." He spits, "Do not dissimulate, just tell me what you want, is it really so difficult?"

It is. It is. Every bone in her body tenses and panics and tells her that this is exactly the sort of thing that makes one a social pariah, that gets them ridiculed by classmates for seeing friendship where there is none. She balls her hands into fists, sucks in a deep breath and says, "I have sewing supplies in my dorm. If you would like me to do the alterations now, you can come back with me."

When Viktor doesn't immediately start laughing at her, she gains enough courage to look up at him. His expression is thoughtful and not at all mocking. At the sight of him, all the nervous, electric tension suddenly melts from her body. Unlearning years of Piltover fake politeness feels a bit like pulling out rotten teeth. Painful at first, but a relief afterwards.

Viktor thinks her offer over a little longer, casting a considering glance in the direction of the clock before returning his attention to her, "I would have to collect my things first. Give me your address, I'll meet you there."

~~~

Viktor barely understands why he agreed to this. Locking his door behind himself and preparing to navigate the maze-like block of dorms under the cover of darkness. It is a clear night, at least, the moon provides a good deal of light and like the rest of the Piltover's streets, the footpaths surrounding the dorms are lit with streetlights, casting a pale orange light across the ground. His leg complains when he starts walking in the cold air, less than it was complaining yesterday, if that was not the case he definitely would have turned her down. But it's a rare good day and so much of the student body seems to wish they were anywhere other than the academy that speaking with someone who actually cares about what they are studying is refreshing.

Her block of dorms actually ends up being quite a bit closer than the main academy buildings are, so Viktor is at least grateful for that despite the confusion he feels at his own sudden acquiescence. Agreeing to her first tailoring felt a lot like peeling back his fingernails, it was painful, it ached, it was shameful. So what changed, really? She doesn't have any sort of ill intent, that much is plain as day, but there is still no real reason for him to be trudging himself through the cold air in the dark of night. This could have been handled in the morning. It should have been, but when she smiles the way she does, the way that makes his cheeks hurt empathically, he finds it difficult not to keep that smile lit as long as possible. It's far realer than any of that achingly false pretence she slips in and out of, maybe her smile reminds him of home. Just a little.

The set of buttons she had affixed into the inseam of his trousers were another reason he agreed. It was a defensive mechanism, to far understate just how useful he had found them in even just the past few weeks. Despite her insistence that she doesn't charge for favours like so many Pilties do, he still can't shake the feeling that letting her know just how much he owes her would be dangerous. Because he does owe her, he owes her a great deal. Every evening when the cold has left his leg stiff and uncooperative, when he would usually need to spend almost half an hour massaging muscles before being able to undress for bed, he was instead able to unsnap the fasteners with one tug, and the trousers would slide right off. He had been fine without her help, he would have continued being fine without it. But now, he is more than fine, just a little bit, an almost inscrutable amount, a decimal place somewhere within the nebulous number defining just how bad a day can be. It is a small change, but it is one he has noticed and that is significant.

Her dorm is one of the street-facing buildings and on the ground floor, which makes it easy to find. The lights are on in the windows and as she had described very explicitly, there are several bunches of dried flowers hanging from the door frame. Viktor also almost knocks over a dish of water on the doorstep that he can only assume she has left out for the cats he sometimes sees roaming around the academy grounds. The groundskeepers are always trying to chase the cats off campus, but it's no wonder they keep coming back if she is doting on them the way he is certain she is.

She comes to the door just a few seconds after he knocks. He hears the sound of a chain-lock frantically undoing and then the door quickly swings open.

"Hello!" She exclaims in her usual rush, out of breath and smiling wide. Her hair is down, still awkwardly kinked from being in an up-do all day and kicking up around her collarbone. Viktor finds that he likes it a lot more this way and doesn't appreciate how that thought twists at his gut.

"Hello, yourself." He replies, peering past her into the softly lit room beyond.

She follows his line of sight with a whip of messy hair, laughing a little before turning back and chewing her lower lip, it's chapped and red in places, it gives the impression that she is nervously chewing more often than not, "I tidied before you got here. I don't really ever have people over"

He doesn't doubt it. She is dithering in the front door like she isn't even sure how to welcome him inside. Viktor saves her the trouble, taking another step closer and peering down at her. She blinks again, in that mousy way and he inclines his head towards the doorway, "May I come in?"

Her wide smile comes back, "Yes! Please do!" and she quickly presses herself against the wall, motioning for Viktor to walk in through the gap.

He had been hoping for her to vacate the doorway entirely, but the way she clings to the wall and sucks in all her vital organs does at least give him enough room to squeeze past her and into the dorm. From what he can see, it seems to be the same layout as his own room but in reverse, the small kitchenette is off to the left and there's a rickety looking wooden divider separating the small alcove where her bed is from the rest of the dorm. Viktor hears the door lock behind him and she darts out and around him, standing expectantly in the middle of the room with her hands clasped in front of her. She is especially nervous now, it's all over her face.

"Do, um-" her face pinches, it's as if she is trying to remember exactly what she has been taught to say when she has a guest over, "Do you want something to drink? I only have tea, unfortunately, coffee makes me nauseous."

"Tea would be fine." Viktor says, eyeing the large collection of dried flowers in various cups and vases throughout the room, "you don't keep any living plants?"

She blinks, "Um, no I don't. I always over water them and kill them."

Not forgetful, then. Viktor muses, just overly doting.

"I'll go brew the tea, then." She says quickly, "Take a seat on the sofa if you want, oh! and leave your clothes that need altering on the armchair, I'll get to them in a moment."

Viktor nods and watches as she darts her way over to the kitchenette and starts heating some water on the stove. She's still in her uniform, he can only assume that she was so busy tidying that she didn't have any time to change. He finds the armchair sitting by the radiator and removes the clothes from his bag, folding them over the armrest. Now that he is standing so close to it, he realises that there is no heat at all emanating from the radiator, the room is at least marginally warmer than outside, warm enough that he didn't notice anything was wrong at first. He peers over his shoulder, she is in the middle of reaching for a pair of matching teacups from the top shelf, he decides not to bother her. Instead he rests his cane against the armchair and crouches down, careful with the weight distribution on his right leg. It still hurts enough for him to wince involuntarily, but it could be far worse. He turns the valve carefully and finds no resistance.

"Are you having problems with your radiator?" He asks

He hears her squeak from across the room, followed by quick footsteps and the sound of her putting a jar of sugar down on the coffee table, "Yes, I'm sorry. Are you cold? I have blankets."

"No. No I am okay for the moment." He turns to look at her over his shoulder, her cheeks flush involuntarily at the attention, "How long have you been experiencing these issues?"

"Since it started getting cold this year, it hasn't been much of a problem until now because it hasn't been too chilly." She shrugs, "I just, I don't know, I didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

"Have you noticed anything strange when you try to turn it on?"

"Um, it sometimes makes sounds? Creaking or hissing. I was worried I might break it so I've mostly taken to leaving it off."

"Aha. You must have air in the pipes." He stands from the ground, "I can fix it."

"W-Wait! You don't-" She sputters, chasing after him as he heads over to her kitchen

"Your boiler should be in the bottom of the pantry, if your dorm is the same as mine." He says quickly, deciding that it's best to cut her polite refusal off at the root instead of entertaining it, "I'll need to turn it off for a moment"

She stares at him open mouthed for a moment, but then seems to decide pushing back isn't worth it and follows after him, dithering over his shoulder as he crouches down, using the second to last shelf in the pantry for balance and turning off the gas. His heart races when he realises that she is leaning in so close to him that he can feel her hair brushing against the side of his neck.

"Can I help somehow?" She asks quietly, he can feel her breath in his ear.

Viktor swallows, clenches and un-clenches his hands, "Do you have a Flathead screwdriver?"

She shifts backward, and he suddenly feels like he can breathe again, "I have a fork that works in a pinch! Let me see if I can find it."

He peers over his shoulder and waits until he can see that she is busy digging through the drawers before pulling himself back to his feet. His leg complains, a little worse than the first time, but only marginally. He is glad she wasn't watching. As he steps towards her, she whips around with one of her enormous smiles, clutching a fork in her hand.

"This should do the trick, I had to tighten the towel rack in my bathroom and it worked a charm."

Viktor feels that urge again, the one in the base of his stomach that wants him to soften in the warmth of her gaze. The same urge that begged him to call her Myšičko last time they spoke despite the cloying affection behind the diminutive word, "Thank you." He says instead, taking the fork from her outstretched hand and walking back over to the radiator. Resting a hand on it, he finds it quite cool, it must have been that way for a long time based on when she says it stopped working, but turning off the boiler practically negates the possibility of him burning his hands. Working quickly, Viktor sticks the square end of the fork into the screw keeping the bleed valve sealed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips when he realises just how perfectly the fork fits.

"Well you were not kidding about this fork working in- what was it you said? A pinch?"

He hears a laugh from somewhere behind him, the teapot on the stove must have finished boiling because when he looks backward he sees her pouring tea at the kitchen bench, "I told you!"

He exhales an amused breath, "So you did."

It only takes a few turns to loosen the bleed valve enough for air to begin escaping, just as he has expected. After a few seconds a thin stream of water spills down from the valve and Viktor quickly re-tightens the screw before any further water gets lost. Easy.

He stands from the floor with a wince, using the armrest of the chair for balance, "That should work now. Give it a few minutes and then we can turn the boiler back on." He grabs his cane and readjusts himself, turning to see that she is crossing the room with both cups of tea, gently resting them on the coffee table.

"I-" She starts, eyes darting around the room skittishly, "Thank you. I didn't mean to invite you over to fix things for me."

"No." Viktor says, unable to help the smile climbing up his cheeks as he rounds the coffee table and takes a seat on the sofa, crossing his right leg over his left, "In fact, I think you'll find I came around so you would fix something." He shrugs, "I suppose I was feeling generous."

Generous is too non-committal a term for how he is feeling. How he has been feeling all evening. Warm? Comfortable? Something in that realm. Something ill-advised and guaranteed to end in suffering, that's what the terrified voice in the back of his head says, the one that always hears alarm bells where there aren't any.

"Oh! Yes! I'm sorry!" She says in a near panic, darting over to the desk up against the wall and grabbing an embroidered sewing kit, "I was so busy with the tea and being a good host and- wait, you don't have anywhere to be do you?" and then faster, almost out of breath, "You can leave if you need to! I can drop everything off at your dorm tomorrow!"

Viktor leans forward and scoops several spoons of sugar into one of the teacups before grabbing it by the handle and sinking backward into the sofa. He takes a sip and suddenly finds that he doesn't feel like going anywhere at all, "No rush." He says, surprised to realise he means it, "I am all yours."

[icycoldninja]

Hiii!! I really like your writing and I always look forward to your posts!!!! ∩^ω^∩

Picture this, DMC boys with an s/o who knits/crochet 🧶 The reader is very nifty with yarn and makes the boys gifts.

Dante seems like he can rock some knit gloves as he’s fighting demons. He has a little collection from experience of his gloves ruined after his missions.

Vergil seems he uses little bookmarks his partner makes, or a blanket while reading.

Nero is a little harder, tbh I see him swinging around a crochet axe or sword laying around. That or a scarf, idk 🤷‍♀️

V is the hardest I can think of, but I think a sweater/cardigan would suit him. Buddy looks cold 24/7 and he’ll be swaddled with shadow and griffon made a lil sweater during the winter months.

I can just picture the guys having to deal with a bunch of yarn n tools around their shared place w their partner. Ever since I’ve started knitting, yarn has become my whole personality 👵

Aww thank you. Sorry I've been so inactive lately, and for the fact that I had to close requests, but I hope you enjoy all the same! Knitting sounds fun tbh, glad u enjoy it

Sparda boys + V x Knitter!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Constantly makes fun of you and calls you a grandma--in a fond way.

-He does indeed have a collection of knit gloves that you made him, and that fall apart after one mission because of all the roughhousing he does.

-He also has a collection of knit socks, mostly used as backups for when you put all his other sweaty socks into the wash.

-Once sat on one of your knitting needles and got PTSD that he will carry until the end of time.

-Cannot open your closet without worrying about the 800 rolls of yarn that will inevitably fall out onto him, so he bought a giant set of drawers for you to store them in.

-When winter rolls around, you guys will be very warm in your knit sweaters.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil loves to sit around and read. He loves it even more when there's a nice blanket to snuggle up in.

-He has ordered you to knit him 5 of these comfy blankets so he has extras in case something *cough* Dante *cough* happens to the other ones.

-You joke that he's finally acting his age, doing old man things. He replies, saying you're prematurely aging into a granny. Any minute now, you'll need dentures. It's all in good fun, nothing personal.

-He likes your crocheted bookmarks because not only do they remind him of you, they are also very beautiful.

-He carries a whole bunch of them with him for no explainable reason.

-Once got his foot tangled in all your yarn and nearly tripped. To this day, he silently thanks his lucky stars that no one saw him.

□ Nero □

-Nero never thought much about knitting and what things one can knit until you gave him a very warm scarf.

-Now he refuses to go anywhere without that scarf--it's basically a safety blanket to him.

-He saw you trying to crochet weapons and figured he'd try them out. Even though he probably wouldn't be able to kill a demon with them, they're still fun to have around.

-When Dante and Vergil come over, they end up throwing these crocheted weapons at each other during their inevitable arguments, so Nero suggested hiding some in strategic locations throughout your house.

-He has you knit sweaters when the weather gets colder, but you went overboard, so now there's a huge trunk of sweaters and blankets in your closet.

-He takes you to the craft store every weekend to pick out new supplies.

● V ●

-V is a frail little thing who should be clothed in the finest raiment.

-So, you made him a sweater. However, you sorely miscalculated how large the sweater would have to be, and now it looks like he's wearing a dress.

-Not like he cares; this means there's room for his familiars (or you) to snuggle up in.

-Shadow loves to pull on loose threads and play with your yarn rolls. Oftentimes, this results in a huge mess.

-V would love it if you could knit him shirts or socks to go with the sweater. He loves being all cozy and warm.

-Crocheting some toys for Griffon and Shadow wouldn't be a bad idea either--maybe this will save your precious yarn rolls from being unraveled.

[georgeromeros]

Help with gas and basic needs

Hello everyone in tumblrland. Yes it's me again. I'm sort of stuck between a rock and a hard place. I'm overdrawn on my bank account by about -49.98 and could use some funds to get gas and basic necessities. For any newbies following me, I'm homeless and unable to work. im living out of my vehicle and have applied for disability. I've been denied twice but now I'm currently at the appeal stage. The hearing should be within a couple of months. So I finally feel like I'm making progress, I hope. I get assistance with food and my family provides help here and there. But I'm still left to fend for myself on other things. Usually I'd be able to figure things out by selling some collectibles or blu-rays I have in storage. This is one of those times I need a little bit of help from you kind folks on tumblr. Everyone has helped me so much since this happened. I'm sorry to keep asking for help. Everyone involved didn't anticipate this going on for as long as it has, myself included. If you can donate, awesome - I love you! But don't donate if you can't afford it. You don't want to be stuck in my position, that's for sure. Reblogging this post should help me out, too. I appreciate any help you can give out there, tumblr! Thank you!

ko-fi

paypal

[kitscutie]

snow and roses: part III (coriolanus snow x fem!reader)

pairing: coriolanus snow x reader

warnings: none except the nature of the Hunger Games franchise! later on in the series there will be hints to dark!coriolanus snow and lots of angst so be prepared!

summary: you and coriolanus have been dating in secret for months, all it takes is one songbird for everything to come into the light.

a/n: part three is finally hereee! sorry it took so long i've been dealing with some shit and doing a lot of work as life's just gotten very busy but don't worry - nothing will be left undone and trust me when i say i already have the ending for this series planned out :)

im sorry to say guys but i will have to close my taglist as the size has began to affect my posts and tumblr keeps glitching out, sorry!

word count:2k

find parts one and two in my masterlist!

After the incident the previous day between Brandy and Arachne as well as the suggestions from Coriolanus taken on board, the mentors had been allowed one hour with their tributes to discuss tactics.

It was good yet bad all at once. You wanted to give Wovey advice, a fighting chance but yet you knew no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much help you gave her, she stood no chance compared to people like Reaper and even Lucy Gray.

She was small and innocent, young.

"In spite of yesterdays - tragic events, our president has decided that the games must go on. Show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror, to which I and Doctor Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon - with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a specialised television presentation of each tribute to our audience to, well get to know them. You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin." Dean Casca Highbottom spoke into the echoey room, so large it was almost comical.

All of the tributes had been chained to the tables like animals and it made you sick to your stomach. You were aware they may harm you but at the same time such treatment would drive anyone to violence, it wasn't simply because they were District.

"Hi Y/N." Wovey smiled, so innocent. So naive.

"Wovey. I was thinking about how you might approach the games and I figured what might be best is to hide. You're small, an advantage that the other tributes don't have. I'm sure we can find some spaces this afternoon that might prove useful?" You suggested, not wishing to make this conversation more painful and personal than it had to be.

"Sure." She murmured, gaze positioned on the chains around her wrists.

"And if you wait until it's dark and everyone is sleeping you could go to the middle - collect whatever weapons they have left, just in case but otherwise I recommend waiting it out. If they can't find you they can't kill you." The sentence left a bitter taste in your mouth, you had never pictured yourself recommending a child to wait her death out in your life. The Capitol Academy was sold to you with visions of wealth and power, and now you has gone from student to mentor.

"I don't want to kill anyone." She frowned. She didn't even care that she could die, only fearing harming others. You felt your heart ache and yet, you could do nothing. No words would be good enough to reassure her, no actions would be able to save her. For once, you were useless.

"Wovey-" You began your sympathetic speech though Casca cut you off.

"Snow, Y/N. Let's go." He said as peacekeepers arrived to escort you to Doctor Gaul.

You rose without another word to Wovey, aware nothing you could say would be of any help at this time.

You knew it was about Coryo's proposal which you had not helped in and yet you weren't too upset about it. You didn't need the Plinth Prize nor did you need Doctor Gauls' approval and so you set out to let her know of your lack of involvement in this task.

"How is your tribute?" Coriolanus asked after minutes of silence.

"Her name is Wovey and she's fine. A little frightened but aren't we all?" You said, you were hesitant to tell him too much of Wovey's weaknesses and you didn't know why. This was Coriolanus. Your best friend of over ten years and your boyfriend of a few months and yet, you had a feeling whatever you said would be used against you.

"I suppose." He answered. You supposed his tone was meant to come off charmingly but all you felt was unease.

"This proposal. I haven't done it." You let him know, it was the least you could do before facing the psychopath known as Head Gamemaker.

"We have. I handed it in this morning." He answered with a hint of pride. Impressed with himself that he had taken initiative, helped you.

"I thought I made it clear the other day that I wanted no part in this plan to profit off of peoples lives, Coriolanus." You muttered, increasingly angry with his dedication to the Games and what they stood for.

"Well if you want to help Wovey, I suggest you don't tell Doctor Gaul that." He smiled, holding the door to her office open for you in a feign attempt at being a gentlemen.

As you walked into her office you couldn't help but feel disgusted. It was littered with mutants, clearly created to kill, all sat in glass jars on shelf upon shelf. Stacked all the way up to the ceiling.

"Mr Snow, Miss L/N. Come and see my new babies." Gaul said as she appeared at the back of the room. Where she had been hidden, you had no clue.

You did as she said, never one to disobey your superiors, climbing the snake tank alongside her.

"Is there a point to their colour?" You asked curiously. The snakes were surprisingly beautiful, chromatic as they shifted around on top of one another.

"There's a point to everything Miss L/N. Or to nothing at all, which brings me neatly to your proposal. Which one of you actually wrote it." She asked, as if to catch you out but you felt no remorse in admitting it wasn't you.

"Coriolanus, Doctor." You answer, sensing Coriolanus' hesitation in baiting you out.

"Well, how shocking. I expected more of a conflict." She replied, as though she were annoyed by your honesty as she reached into the snake tank, pulling Coriolanus' proposal out. "They're good your suggestions. I'm going to recommend my team implement as many as possible for tomorrow. Now run along you have an arena to promote, and Miss L/N I must say - I am most disappointed by your lack of involvement in these brilliant ideas."

"Well thank you, Doctor Gaul for your offer but, I thought Mr Snow had it safely under his control." You smiled politely before you both left to 'promote' but more so survey the new arena. "Wait." You said stopping Coriolanus before you got into the truck. "I don't know what has become of you Coriolanus Snow, but I want the little boy who fought to provide for his family while also caring for others back. You are turning into one of them, and I'm not going to be there to watch the world burn beneath your feet." You spat, leaving him to think as you sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

It seemed Coriolanus felt spiteful towards your words as he too ignored you up until this very moment as you walked into the arena.

You smiled reassuringly down at Wovey who looked just so scared. You were only three years older than her and yet you felt a motherly protection towards her, one you couldn't shake off.

Infront of you was Coryo and Lucy Gray. At first you pitied the girl, coming from twelve must be hard as they were food deprived and worked to the bone and yet now, as she stood holding your boyfriends hand in her beautiful rainbow dress, you loathed everything about her.

Your eyes rolled as far back as they physically could, your disgust clear to anyone looking but only one person was. Sejanus. He looked at you with pity and for once, you appreciated it. You decided he must know about you and Coriolanus and seeing as nobody else did they all whispered about him and Lucy Gray, how sweet they seemed.

You walked around alone before he appeared at your side.

"You deserve better, Y/N." Sejanus said, eyes never meeting your own as you continued to survey the arena, never even noticing his eyes stuck on his watch.

"Debatable." You chuckled, feeling a sense of self responsibility for getting with a man as dangerous as Coriolanus Snow in the first place.

"I wouldn't worry. If there's anything I've learnt about Coryo it's that he likes shiny things, new things - and she's definitely a spectacle." he chuckled to himself, it was safe to say Lucy Gray's ability to impress a crowd hadn't been missed by anyone.

"He'll grow tired eventually. I was his precious rose once." You sighed as the reality of the situation finally settled in.

You soaked in the silence for a few moments before you realised Sejanus' lack of response, turning in annoyance to see his eyes following the hand of his watch clock closely as he mouthed a countdown of the minutes.

"What are you-" You began.

"We've got to go." He said, grabbing your arm and beginning to walk towards the exit cautiously, not catching the attention of any guards.

"What do you mean? Sejanus?" You asked as he would not slow, not for anything. You looked around, seeing everyone else still stood stationary as they calmly conversed.

"Just follow me, Y/N." He said, still attempting to stay calm but you noticed his wide eyes.

You walked in silence, your heartbeat getting louder in your ear with each step until you hearing went completely silent, vision going black as both you and Sejanus were thrown to the floor in a cloud of smoke.

It took a few moments for you to be brought back to reality as you sat up, dazed hearing the yells of people around you. Once again before you could even figure out what was happening Sejanus' grabbed you, pulling you to your feet as you ran out of the door. 'Enjoy the show' now sounding muffled.

"What about Coryo?" You cried out in desperation, no matter what he put you through he was your first love and you had always pictured him to be your last.

"If we go back now, Y/N, we'll die." Sejanus replied as he continued dragging you until you reached the fresh air outside. Your charred lungs welcoming it.

As you looked back through the doorway you saw nothing, no one. Simply black smoke. You felt guilty and yet still - deep down - your heart yearned for the death of Lucy Gray.

It had been five hours now, sat around Coriolanus' bed alongside Sejanus and Tigris.

He hadn't so much as twitched and it had your heart racing with panic, if he died, you knew a part of you died with him.

Tigris comforted you as best she could in her own worry, noting how his chest continued to move up and down steadily and that the doctor only mentioned an injured arm, not that he was at risk of death.

The appearance of bright blue eyes caught everyone's attention as you rushed to be by his bed.

"Coryo." You said, a large smile on your face. You watched as his eyes flickered around in confusion, landing on you for a few moments. You don't know what you expected, a look of love? What you most definitely didn't expect was one of disgust.

"Lucy Gray, is she-" He stated, looking to Tigris for an answer.

"She's alive." Tigris responded through gritted teeth as she looked to you with sympathetic eyes. Her reply was lost to you as the ringing in your ears after the explosion returned. Your heart beating loud in your chest. You placed a hand over it, feeling it pound against your palm.

Your eyes glazed over as you walked away into a secluded corner, waving Sejanus off as he attempted to follow you.

It felt now more than ever so official, so real without a doubt. You had lost Coriolanus Snow. He no longer loved you, cared for you or even worried for you.

The cage that was his heart had opened wide, setting you free and instead capturing something new and desirable. A songbird.

TAGLIST: @savannahsteen, @shine101, @tfimherewhy, @iloveyou3000, @summerli-u, @coconut-dreamz, @serrendiipty, @zucchinimalfoy, @mus-tbe-a-weasley, @-ice-heart, @aza-writes, @bellstwd, @kaitlyn2907, @wheepsworld, @sarahskywalker-amidala, @velvet-spider, @gloryekaterina, @prettyinsatiable, @bduchrnskei, @riddlerloveb0t, @girlalwaysathome, @thegoldenskies, @runningfrom2am, @riordanness, @charmed-asylum, @suvgs, @podiumprincess, @annaelise, @mywitchycat, @italiekim, @darkestbeforethedawn16, @stelleduarte, @leafydinosaur, @witheringawayagain, @clementinechatsshit, @lokidala, @notyourwildestdream, @prettyppetty, @motley-baby, @taylvvrr, @autistic-deer, @gamorxa, @jakesguitarpick, @pepperonipastas, @sbrewer21, @emma-andrea1, @nekee-lilac02, @tabea3, @im-sidney, @rosarosse, @jenifer0305, @Idontwanttobeehere, @chiyopipi, @coisas-da-dani, @sunnydays-funnydays, @italiekim, @andrew-garfield-is-bae, @rororo06, @soulessjourney, @upwritingallnight, @kierramofficial, @cellui, @xav-ie, @Stwoosevens, @LightVo1d, @lilanna34, @pinki-minki, @annaelise, @alexameliamg, @gloryekaterina, @bia-wayne-west, @hinata7346, @yunloyal, @perks-of-being-jojo, @iheartfike, @lucygreene, @utopiakys, @ennycutie, @eggmia, @malayawr18, @chess1ca, @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf, @elynswan, @siriusly-rem,

@justacaliforniandreamer, @http-ilysm, @touyasside, @camilleverreault, @maraalo, @allcheesemelts, @-ice-heart, @sunghoonsbakery, @onlyangel-444, @geeknerdanseverythinginbetween, @Chmerkovskiy-chmerkovskiy, @tfimherewhy, @loxbbg, @th3-archer, @yazmunson, @buckysmainhxe, @puppyminnnie, @winkevm, @czarinera,

[jasperxkuromi]

Regressors that are (bodily) older, please interact!

Later 20s, 30s, maybe even older? I would love to hear from you and maybe even your stories if you don't mind sharing!

I want to meet more people like me and also show others that age regression doesn't just suddenly "stop" at a certain age

Some of us:

Didn't discover regressing/didn't understand their involuntary regression until they were older

Wasn't in a safe space mentally and/or physically to be able to regress the way we want to

Didnt "grow out" of regressing. I think a lot of people outside the community assume we will all grow out of wanting to regress at some point. Maybe some of us will, but some of us won't. Regressing can be a safe and healthy coping mechanism, no matter your bodily age!

And probably many other reasons I can't think of at the moment lol

I would love to get to talk to older regressors, or if there are any groups/discords, I would like to know those too :3

I'm gonna talk about my story a little under the cut, but I don't exactly recommend reading it if you are little right now! I am going to be talking about s3xualization of agere and children's media unfortunately.

I started age dreamer/involuntarily regressing when I was in high school without really knowing what it was. I was really into MLP FiM during its height popularity. I watched the show, collected and played with the toys, did coloring books, took my MLP blanket to school ever day. You get the idea.

I discovered regression here in Tumblr, but this was yeeeeaaars ago, like back when nsfw was still allowed. The line between ddlg and agere wasn't as solid as it is now. Or maybe it was just because I was a kid and couldn't understand better? Either way ... i ended up getting wrong ideas of what agere had to be and ended up scaring myself off. I also had adult roleplayers leaving really inappropriate comments on my posts that made me feel icky. I thought agere had to be s3xual and scared myself off.

We also unfortunately probably know the uhhh .. types of fan art that was popular of MLP. And it just ended up making me lose interest in the series. The stuff was everywhere and it was hard to avoid even if you were vigilant.

I never got a real chance to understand what healthy, voluntary regression was. I still was an age dreamer, but most times when I involuntarily regress it is out of extreme stress and it isn't fun or pretty.

I had a lot of bad things that happened to me last year and in turn I am having more health issues. Chronic conditions I already had getting worse, and new ones popping up. My mom (the one who birthed me) has been helping me a bit, but it has still been a lot of playing adult. Making phone calls back and forth, filling out paperwork, figuring out disability leave, paying bills, etc etc. I started age dreaming more and more often to cope with the stress. Like I randomly one day bought a DVD player and sets of Winnie the Pooh and Scooby Doo DVDs lmfao.

I also never stopped collecting stuffed animals and came back to collecting dolls again last year. It helps that I have friends IRL who I don't think are regressors, but still enjoy collecting with me. (my friends don't know yet, but I think they would be accepting if I told them, or they might already assume I regress tbh)

I have kinda had age regression on the back of my mind for several months, but was scared to look back into it. I was scared of going through the same thing I did back in high school. But also denying I am a regressor and that I still need to heal my childhood wounds was getting heavier and heavier on me. I am sooooo thankful I finally felt safe to begin exploring regression again ♥️😁

Side note: while I absolutely don't care if people do ddlg and similar stuff as a kink/fetish, I am thankful that the distinction between that and agere is more distinct now. It is important we protect minors and other vulnerable people from having the same sorts of things that happened to me (or worse) from happening to them.

[the-colourful-witch]

Artsy Update :)

Hi everyone, it has been a while since I posted. I've been incredibly busy with a few high-demand projects for which deadlines are approaching swiftly.... *send help please* However! I did continue the Valentine's Day couple series. Here are the final three sketches I did:

Hinny, Jegulily and Jegulus <3 I have to say that while I enjoyed doing these sketches, this style is not exactly my thing :) I love doing character line-ups and story illustrations more, but trying different poses and practising new colour combinations was a lot of fun. I had a blast :) I'm sorry if your favourite ship hasn't been drawn. I could only do a few in the time I had. But there's always next year! <3<3<3 As for the other things taking up my time at the moment... I have a big deadline for a picture book I'm working on. Only five more weeks to finish. When April comes, I'll (hopefully) be done with it and then I'm taking a teeny tiny holiday to rest and gather energy for new projects! I might actually leave the house for that... :)

The other big thing was my first art market of the year! I had a stand at Fantasy Fest in the Netherlands last weekend. I prepared a lot for it, making new prints and stickers and even creating some brand-new artwork :) The result was a booth filled with colourful goodies! I sold a little less than I had hoped for during the weekend, but I did have a lot of great conversations and managed to put a smile on people's faces with my art. And that is the most special thing in the world <3

I loved my little booth. The lighting was great and I had some lovely neighbors with whom I chatted all weekend. My mum also came to help for a day and she stood in front of the booth to play the very convincing 'interested customer', drawing in some more curious onlookers :) I love her, she is my number 1 supporter <3

Now, these are some of the new (and older) products I designed for this fair:

This is the Fantasy Characters collection: a series of 12 fantasy characters in a cool set! I made these specially for the fair and had so much fun with them. I picked out a nice paper, got to design a cool border to tie the whole thing together and even wrapping the sets in a colourful label was so so fun to do! I will definitely do more projects like this in the future. It's the best!

I created a bunch of prints from some of my traditional artworks. Most of them come from the book of fairytales I illustrated last year. They were a hit! Especially the map. That one was my bestseller :)

And of course, I had to add fanart, too. I sold a couple of Marauders band posters. That made my day. It was so cool to meet fellow fans :) (All of these are available in my shop, by the way, in case you're interested :)) Last, but not least: I made STICKERS! In January, I bought a Cricut machine for the first time and after postponing for a month to learn how to make it work, I managed to create these sticker packs:

They are my favourite new creation. It's so cool to be able to make my own stickers! I have four sets: Toads and Toadstools, Owls, Ollivander's Wand Shop and the Stars and Moons doodle sheet.

The little stickers are super fun to fill in empty spaces in your journal and the big ones are a showstopper for any surface. I already stuck a bunch of them on my planner, phone and sketchbooks... I have no shame. This is the best thing I ever made :)

I had a lot of fun!

I am looking forward to more cool art in the near future. I have one more project to finish. A picture book that has been a rollercoaster and not in a good way... I'll be happy when I've got my work done on that. It's still going to be a lovely book, it was just the publishing house that I had some trouble with. I will share something on the book whenever I can :) Right, I'm going to stop yapping! If you made it all the way to the end, thank you! You're amazing! Hugs, Fleur

[justadeadreaper]

My friend says I have to write this as an apology for what I posted yesterday as apparently what I wrote was not fluff but angst as it made a few people cry so I have to make up for it with actual fluff. Now that I have said what I think König would do for you when he goes on a long deployment so that you remember how much he loves you when you miss him how about we now hear what I think he does while on the deployments and then a third post detailing what he does when he finally gets back home. 

Yes, König has an issue with being the cockiest man alive but he has another trait(s) that can be considered a thousand times worse, this is how he is extremely possessive and obsessed with what he considers his. It is why he struggles to be apart from you for so long when he is on his missions for months or years at a time even if he keeps actively choosing them for the rush of adrenaline that has to pump through his veins due to how addicted the military made him to the thrill. As mentioned before, the giant will spend any chance and time he gets to write you letters that normally entail how everything is going before going over how greatly he misses you and would prefer to be in your arms in the luxury of your soft bed compared to the cold, lifeless floors of wherever he is. Normally, he ends all his letters asking how you are and what you have been doing, like asking how your hobbies have been going and if you have been using his card to treat yourself while he is gone. 

If he has signal and is in a safe area where he has no worries about calling or checking his phone you can bet that he will be checking every single security camera he has in the house to see what you are doing without telling you as he just loves to see how you are in your natural habitat even if others would call him a peeping Tom for such actions. Sometimes he will even call you on a second phone to talk to you as he watches what you do, sometimes he loves to be a tease and ask what you are doing and make hints towards what you are doing just so he can see the confused look on your face and ask if he is a mind reader.

Due to his kleptomaniac tendencies from how he grew up with virtually nothing to the point he now needs to have everything he was never able to have when he was a child, he will collect trinkets for you to gift you once he gets back home. These trinkets can virtually be anything he was able to get his large, sticky hands on like the jewellery he scavenges from the corpses of all the enemies he has killed so that he can return home to you as he loves seeing you in anything shiny or objects he just likes the look of that he found when scouting the area which itself ranges from a pretty rock he found in a stream to things he found in a ruined house like ornaments that could be used to decorate your home to things such as spoons or weirdly shaped objects that he just found interesting and thought you would find pretty too or souvenirs or clothes he brought in nearby cities, towns, villages or countries to the area his mission was set in as to share the location with you and as a way to make off another area he has been in and successfully come back alive from or it could be something grimmer that just hits the right spot with his morbid thought process he calls normal such as the bones of enemies or dead animals he found that he will eventually DIY to create something useful or pretty to put around the house (the last time he did such a thing he made you multiple candle holders using the arm and hand bones of enemies as he said it looked so pretty to see the wax drip down the bones onto the platform underneath) or he would bring back the weapons or clothing of the enemies he killed if he thought it was pretty or interesting enough to add to the collection he lets you use to protect yourself with while he is gone or cool enough to add to his many uniforms.

Although, his kleptomaniac tendencies do not just stop at inanimate objects. Quite a few of his subordinates and teammates joke that if you find a stray animal you can not kill it but you have to hide it no matter what situation you are in due to König’s horrible habit of collecting animals he finds like Pokémon cards. If König finds a stray animal in the area or one he finds too interesting it is no longer a stray but his pet no matter what it is even if it is as feral as a dog with rabies. This habit was first discovered by his team when he would keep the interesting enough spiders they asked him to dispose of as he would keep them in containers and feed them whatever bug he found around the area but it never stopped there. It was then reaffirmed once they found him sneaking a pair of rats into his bag since he thought they were too cute as they had the audacity to try and bite a hole through his boot. Over the years it became more apparent with every new animal he gathered and brought home to you or how you would suddenly find a new pet such as the toad that now lives by the small fairy pond he built by the rose bushes as he saved it from his team as Tor thought it was a good idea to use it as target practice. If he finds an animal on the mission that he finds cute or interesting enough you can surely bet that he will bring it home to add to the family since he knows you can not refuse his puppy dog eyes that tug on your heartstrings.

If you speak a language he does not and someone on his team can speak it he will be pestering his team member to teach him, but if he does not he will have taken a few small books for him to learn from when he is restless at night and unable to sleep due to his insomnia just so that when he comes home he will be able to surprise you with knowing some of your language.

And like I have mentioned before, he takes mini journals alongside with him where he will be able to sketch you with details of the scenery around him or he will write poems or thoughts about you just to get his mind off of you so they do not clog his thoughts and distract him which creates the risk of him being too distracted and not being alert enough which ends up with him not having the chance to come home to you which neither of you want to happen. The journals are so sappy and sweet but can sometimes be vulgar with its content, he does not dare show it anyone but you, but that only happens once he is finished and every page is full so he can give it you once he is next deployed.

But in the end, all he is waiting for is for the mission to be over so that he can come back to you alive and well so that he can be in your arms once more and spoil you with all the gifts he brought from the mission and when he got back to say sorry for being gone for so long.

[legy]

hi! i'm caelum. you might know me from @goldentruths-pod or from posting online. im in a financial quicksand pit and i really, really, really need help.

i'm disabled and receive approx ~$950 a month from social security. this has gone from "rough but survivable" when i first started receiving SSI to "i am literally not making ends meet" in 2024. right now my current status is that i am covering my basic needs but any kind of extra purchases are impossible. and the extra purchases i need to make keep piling up because i just can't afford them. some things i need include, in vague level of priority:

dolphin, my cat, is years overdue for a vet visit. this is going to be $300 minimum, possibly more because she has an adversarial relationship with the vet. she needs dental work done which they had quoted me as being $1500 but ive been putting it off for so long that i would not be surprised if that's more expensive too

i have learned today that my gold crown needs to be replaced. really unhappy about this one. it was a miserable experience the first time (everything that went wrong did go wrong, i'll spare you the details) but what is relevant here is that my insurance does not cover this and it was $900 last time. insurance also does not cover extracting the tooth either so that's cool. i have some time before this one is due (my next consult is in july)

my phone is approaching "unusably broken". i've had it for close to 4 years now. the call speaker no longer works (i can only use the phone on speaker mode) and it struggles to run apps or a web browser which makes things like GPS pretty dire. this would be like ~$100-$150 probably, i havent done serious phone shopping yet

my driver's license is expired and i need to get a new one. this was $110 last time. note i havent driven a car in years due to the disability but it's really valuable to have a universally recognized form of photo ID and ive already been hassled over it being expired

god this one is so embarrassing to get into but i had to flee my previous apartment last year due to it escalating into a DV situation. the other tenants did not pay the heating bill, which was in my name (and my dumb ass didnt close the account because it was the middle of february and i didnt want to freeze them to death) so i have a $250 utility bill in collections. i might be able to dispute or debt forgiveness this one but tbh ive been so fucking drained given everything else going on and also my phone barely works so i havent pursued it. especially since i can't afford to pay it if i cant challenge it

i would really like to have a passport again. my previous one was destroyed by my landlord in 2018 but even if it wasnt it'd also be expired now. not sure how much this one costs. likely $200?

my food stamps were slashed in half (covid emergency ending lol) and do not cover my food costs for the month so im paying like $150 a month on food that i didnt have to previously. i can maybe fix this one but im slowly losing my mind from malnutrition from trying to not go into debt and also eat. so i havent had it in me to go 1v1 welfare bureaucracy and possibly make everything even worse

my shoes are probably two months out from fully decomposing. they were $100 three years ago and id like to get something comparable given they lasted me this long

the rest of my clothes are also very literally becoming threadbare, falling apart, or are too big and keep slipping off. i legitimately feel embarrassed to go in public these days because i dress so shitty all the time

insurance doesnt cover my HRT anymore so that's $30 a month i didnt used to have to pay

im sorry this turned into such a ramble. i'm in such a bad way right now, i have been for quite a while and the dental work news is really just the final straw. i can't really have a fundraising goal because due to the SSI asset limit i can never own more than $2000. & i'm aware both that this is the poor people sending each other the same 20 dollars website and that there are people urgently trying to raise money to escape an active genocide. but i held off from making this post as long as possible & idk what else i can do

anyway if theres anything you can contribute to help me i would appreciate it more than anything. at the very least i need to do something about my tooth.

http://paypal.me/hivehum

[san-fics]

Happily Married

Felinette, 18+

(upcoming on Ao3, chapters 12-14 are published on Patreon)

Art credit @aspenaspid, original Tumblr post.

_________🔞__________

Marinette's appetite had improved—probably her body was trying to compensate and restore its strength after constant sex, which was exactly that, constant, at least that's how it felt, not that she objected or anything. Maybe she should have slowed down a bit with the food though, because it seemed like her hips were starting to round out a little, making her figure more feminine. But for now it was only noticeable while entering jeans, which she almost never wore anymore, so Marinette decided not to pay attention to it for now, so as not to invent problems that probably didn't really exist.

She couldn't help it for now, anyway: Felix wore her out so much in bed—again, not that she minded—that the next morning she was just terribly hungry, and the concept of “a portion that was too big for her” became blurred. So her relationship with food was what it was at the moment, sometimes a little weird even. For example, recently she was walking through the grocery store and suddenly had an unstoppable craving for pickled peaches...

Marinette hadn't even known pickled peaches existed before that day, but she'd bought a couple of jars and eaten one of them in one sitting as soon as she got home, chalking it up to her changing taste buds. After all, she'd never had to deal with a man's sperm before, much less in such large quantities, so who knew what else she might suddenly want to eat now that she'd added this new flavor to her collection, so to speak...

In the end, all the unusual changes in her boiled down to the fact that her man was too good to resist, Marinette explained to herself, feeling how sensitive her nipples had become. He handled her body so skillfully that it simply learned to react more sensitively to him. And as for the nipples... Felix paid so much attention to them, he loved to suck them and bite them slightly... of course they would become more sensitive with time!

And the fact that she became so tired at work was also only because they fucked until late last night, clearly (and every night, of course)... Marinette probably needed to buy one of those fitness bracelets to track the amount of sleep she was getting, otherwise, special treatment or not, she simply wouldn't be able to work soon!

...

“Always, my dear,” her mother-in-law responded. When Marinette finally released her, embarrassed by her emotional outburst, the woman continued as if nothing had happened. “Anyway, I came to take you to lunch. It’s already the beginning of the month, and you and I always discuss upcoming projects over lunch early on, remember?”

Marinette frowned, because yes, she did remember that, but it seemed so long ago that their last lunch happened… She looked at the calendar, realizing that it was indeed the third, meaning that it had been over a month since their similar discussion. But what was even more important was the unexpected realization that her period should have ended by now and she should have started the next strip of birth control pills, but…

Her period hadn’t even started yet.

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