#I’m about to make this everyone’s problem

[fear-is-truth]

you always knew your boyfriend was good-looking. that was never the problem. it’s just… sometimes, sitting across from JASON in public, it starts to feel feel like a cosmic mix-up, like you’ve wandered into a life meant for someone else. the girls sitting two booths over doesn’t help either. they’re giggling behind french-tipped hands, three pairs of eyes glued to jason as if he’s something decadent on the menu—something they’re hoping gets delivered to their table instead.

“he’s so hot,” one of them says, not even trying to be subtle. “oh my god, look at those biceps.” of course they’re looking at him. he’s beautiful. jason’s got the kind of face that makes everyone go stupid, and a body to match. throat dry, you drop your gaze to see that the ice in your drink have long melted, the straw squeaking against the bottom as you sip at nothing. the sound is thin and papery, an admission of your own awkwardness. jason stands, reaching for his jacket.

“you good?”

“yeah. just a bit tired, is all.” the skeptical look on his face tells you that he doesn’t believe a word of it. but instead of calling you out, he drapes the heavy leather over your shoulders.

you hadn’t even noticed the chill until it was gone.

outside, jason walks beside you, close enough that your arms might touch, but they don’t. usually, you don’t mind the space. it isn’t until you’ve made it halfway down the block that he finally says, “you’re doing that thing again.” there’s no rom-com script to fall back on. so instead of a coy what thing? you reply, “i’m fine. just…” your eyes drift to an oddly shaped crack on the pavement. “sometimes i think you could do better. that’s all.”

his frown deepens—not in irritation, not even exasperation. just tired. it pains him to hear it, because it’s not the first time you’ve said something like this. “unless you think i’ve got bad taste,” he deadpans, “i’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk shit about someone i care about.” then, his arms are around you—bridging that small but seemingly infinite space. one hand settles at the small of your back, the other gently cups the back of your head. a gesture he’s done a hundred times, but still means it every time.“i’m yours,” he murmurs into your hair. “you get that or no?”

and just like that, your chest doesn’t ache the same way it did.

꣑ৎ ‎ :‎ masterlist﹒꒱ requested by the lovely @soulsforsales

[artficlly]

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

main masterlist

I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary. 

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again. 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

[jelly-opal]

I love you writers that love Satine Kryze.

That write Satine as sharp and tough and so incredibly good. That write Satine as a crackshot and an expert at hand-to-hand. As someone who has killed and who never wants to do it ever again. As someone who never wants anyone to be killed on her behalf. Or as someone who has never killed and hopes to never have to.

I love you writers that write about Satine’s parents. That explain her upbringing. That write Bo-Katan as her twin sister or her baby sister. Her sister who is much younger or just a little younger. Her sister who she misses and hopes is okay, despite everything.

That write about Satine’s time with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. That write her as adoring Qui-Gon, or not trusting Qui-Gon quite yet. That write her as loving Obi-Wan from the day they met or hating Obi-Wan at first and loving him later. That write Satine as older or younger than Obi-Wan. As taller or shorter than him, or the exact same height.

That write her as a caf drinker, or a tea drinker, or a martini drinker. Or all three.

That write Satine in a canon-compliant story, an AU, a time-travel tale, a modern-day adventure.

I love you writers that write her as an amazing individual and an amazing partner. An amazing aunt or an amazing mother or both. That write her as Padme or Ahsoka’s mentor. As Breha’s best friend. As a mother figure to Anakin when he needs one. As a friend to Shmi in a universe where they get to met. As a ride-or-die to Quinlan. As Dex's favorite customer. As Palpatine's nightmare. As an advocate for the Clones in a world where they see peace and need a place to call home.

That write her as completely devastated about what has become of Mandalore but determined until the end to make it right.

That write her as short-tempered. As resolute. As patient and kind. As a no-nonsense straight-shooter. As a flirt. As an artful debater. As vulnerable and guarded. As brave and scared. As witty, brilliant, enchanting.

I love you writers that love Satine Kryze.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Running To You

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, control, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Sister series to Just What I Needed

Summary: You're rescued by a man who you don't even know is a real hero.

Characters: nomad Steve Rogers

Note: a stressed out steve rogers plus a cutie. it bloomed from the theory of Steve's beard being a symbol of his darker side, or a darker state of mind. In the wat that he would usually pride himself on a neat appearance but lets himself go a bit when he's not at his best.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stumble up over the curb as you check the list on your phone. Oops, you should really look where you're going. You steady yourself and giggle at your own clumsiness. For how precise your inventory is, the rest of you is a bit of a clutter.

You dodge through the onslaught of pedestrians and apologise a deep 'hey, lady' thunders through at you. You quickly dip into the store and shield yourself with the door. You gasp and catch your breath, smiling at the associate nearest to you. The organic shop probably isn't the most exciting place to shop but it has most of the ingredients you need. Raw honey, tallow wax, essential oils...

You greet them with a small wave and 'hi' and turn to look at the shelves along the wall. They don't acknowledge you. Most people don't, not that you mind. You keep to yourself.

The door jingles and another customer enters. They pause by the door and look around. They might be lost. It's not unusual for one more person to wander in but usually they don't stay long.

He clears his throat and you do your best to focus on your list. You're going to need a basket. As you go to grab one from the stack, the man faces you. You shy away and stop short of latch onto one of the mesh baskets.

"Excuse me, miss," he holds up a familiar item; a red wallet with white polkadots. It's yours! "I think you dropped this."

"Oh, my, I did," you give a sheepish smile to his chest. He's an awfully big man. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," he hands it over.

You accept it and hold it to your chest. You give a tiny shimmy, "thank you so so much!"

You dare to look up and meet his eyes. They're blue but reticent. He scratches his beard as he nods and backs up.

"I think I'm in your way," he grabs one of the baskets and offers it to you.

"Oh, no, but yes, thank you, I need one," you take it.

"Mm, yeah," he smooths out the tuft in his beard that he was pulling on. The hair is thick and coarse; the locks on his head are just as dense, pushed back away from the face, though his chin-length strands try to droop past his ears.

You put your head down and turn back to the shelves. He lingers, seemingly lost as he looks around. What's the odds that in a city like this someone would do something so nice? You look at the list again then peek over at him. He squints at a jar of sourdough starter.

"What do you use in your beard?" You ask then cover your mouth. "I'm sorry, that's not... polite, is it?"

He shrugs, "hm, I just use shampoo, I guess. Face wash?"

"Right. Well, it's pretty shiny." You scrunch up your face. "I'm sorry." You chew your lip in embarrassment. Your cheeks are ablaze. "I'm working on my beard oil. I make it. Um, sell it. But..."

"Beard oil," he repeats thoughtfully. "I don't... I guess maybe I should."

He touches his beard again, a crease between his brows.

"I don't meant to-- I... I'm not... it's cute. I mean. Suits you. I was just--" you show your teeth nervously. "I don't have a beard so..."

"Yeah," he agrees awkwardly and tucks his hair back behind his ears before it can fall forward.

"I ramble..." you drift off and face the shelves again. "I'll stop bothering you."

He inhales and backs up. He turns to the door then stops. You sense his gaze.

"It's a bit busy. Rush hour," he says. "You don't mind if I hide in here with you?"

You glance over. You shrug. "Um, yeah, sure. It's not my store. Not sure how interesting it is."

You fumble between the basket and your phone. You hum and scour the shelves with your eyes, scrunching your nose in concentration. He comes closer.

"What are you looking for?" He asks.

"Soybean oil."

"Soybean oil," he nods. "For..."

"Soap," you cheep.

"Ah. In my day, ma just used fat and lye."

You give his statement a thought. You've seen some recipes from way back. Like long ago. Almost a hundred years now. A lot of people prefer the gentler ingredients.

"Oh, that's cool that she made her own stuff," you muse as you take a canister and tap your spreadsheet to mark off that item.

"Yeah," you feel him trying to see the screen. "You're really organized."

"Can't forget anything," you say.

"Sure." He lurks and looks around before he focuses on you again. "I'm Steve, by the way."

You look at him. He's just as big as the last time you looked. His blue eyes seem uncertain. He can't be afraid of someone like you. You give your name.

"Nice to meet, you, Steve."

"You too," he agrees. "Can I help?"

"Oh, sure. What do you prefer? Rose or Gardenia?"

"Rose is nice," he says.

"I agree," you say and pluck up the small bottle.

"You said you sell stuff?"

"Sure do," you chime. You tuck the bottle into the basket. "You know, you don't have to pretend to care."

"What? I... I'm curious."

You eye him, "well, Steve, I'll believe you, but there's not much to be curious about."

His brows furrow, not so much in agitation, but intrigue. "The beard oil. How much?"

"Oh, you know, I could get you a sample from my hoard. Since you got me my wallet back. You don't have to do all that."

"I want to. I think you right," he runs his hands over his beard. "Needs a bit of taming."

You laugh, "looks good to me. Oh, you can try coconut oil. It's real easy and you can use it in your hair too."

"Coconut oil," he says. "I'll add it to the list. What about yours?"

"Soy wax," you look at your list. "I can use that for lots of things."

He lifts his heads, shoulders wide and straight, looking around on a mission. He strides around the rack behind him and you watch him search a shelf. He picks up two jars. He comes back to you. "Which do you prefer?" He holds up to two different sellers. You take the one in his left hand.

"Thank you," you grin.

"Next," he looks down at your phone.

"Jeez, you sure are helpful," you check again.

"They sell wicks. I need the long ones. Like this." You hold the basket and phone at a length.

He nods again, "on it."

You point him to the corner where they keep the candlemaking stuff and you go back to your own search. He's too quick for you. He has a hole bunch in hand. You have him put half in your basket and he takes the rest back.

Huh, looks like you made a friend.

🎀

Steve holds the door for you. It's so nice you thank him for what must be the dozenth time since you met. Maybe only even an hour ago.

As you get outside, you turn back to him, certain to keep away from the pedestrians who pay no heed to obstacles. "I can take that bag too."

He looks down as the door shuts behind him. "Pretty heavy," he says.

"Oh, I always do that. I forgot my little rolly bag," you shrug. "I can handle it."

"Wouldn't feel right letting you carry it all. Mrs. Rogers didn't raise a punk."

"Is that your mom? I bet she's nice too," you say. "It's alright, Steve. You've done enough. I owe you. My wallet would've been gone with the wind and I never coulda bought all this."

He stares at you, then once more peeks down at the fabric bag. You always bring the reusable; they're much stronger than the paper ones supplied in-store. He chews his lower lip.

"If you owe me, well, you wanna have a coffee? Together?" He asks.

You blink. That's so nice of him too.

"Coffee?" You press your lips together. You feel bad saying no. Not that you want to. It wouldn't be so bad to have someone to sit with. For once. "I don't drink it."

He nods, "tea? Hot chocolate? Water?"

You laugh.

"I'll have a cookie," you offer. "Um," you look up and down the street. "Where..."

"I saw a place. Never been in. Wanna give it a try?"

"Oh, cool. Yeah. I love new places, even if they're scary," you say.

"Here," he takes the other bag from your hands before you can argue. "It's a block back."

"Wait, Steve! I can carry that."

"Not if I'm around," he insists, "come on."

He rolls his shoulder in a gesture for you to follow. You huff and hop into motion. You walk next to him, wary of the oncoming people along the sidewalk. A man nearly bowls you over and you knock into Steve's elbow.

"Oof, I'm sorry."

"Get on the inside of me, doll," he says. "Used to be that people took their hat off when they passed a lady. Now they don't care if... well... you move."

He stops and lets you step across his path. He keeps you between him and the storefronts as he strides on undaunted. You wish you were as brave as him.

"Ah, there it is." He tilts his chin up.

You look ahead. You see the sign sticking out in the shape of a coffee cup.

"Oh, I see it," you hurdle ahead. "My turn."

You pull open the door as he follows. He stops to let another customer out before he enters. You follow him.

"There's a table," he nods.

You follow his gaze to the wall. You lead the way and he trails you. He puts the bags in one of the chairs.

"How about you sit?" He suggests. "What kind of cookie do you want?"

"Oh, Steve, uh," you pull out your wallet, "if they have oatmeal--"

"My treat." He insists.

"You can't do that," you argue.

"You gonna stop me?" He challenges. You gulp and blink at him. You don't think you could stop him from anything. He's quite the figure.

"I guess not." You murmur.

His expression softens, "hey, I'm kidding. I didn't... scare you, did I?"

"N-no," you force a smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you. Oatmeal. That's all."

"Alright. I'll be back." He turns and you see his shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath.

You sit and jiggle your leg as you look around. You avoid the coffee shops, even the bakeries. They're always so busy. You are methodical in your ventures but today's seems to have gone off the rails. Not in the worst way. One time, you tried to take the subway and ended up lost in the rain.

There's women who look like they could be on a TV show with their fabulous dresses and perfect waves; a man in a suit with his laptop and a single earbud in, and an older couple near the door. There are many others in the line to get a treat of their own.

You turn in the chair and press your palms to the table. You stare at the wood between your hands. You feel the heat speckling over your scalp, that sense of suffocation burrowing into your chest, the voices swirling around you like a raging wind.

"Here," Steve interrupts your internal panic. He places a large cookie before you and mug. "They had this strawberry cream thing. No coffee."

You look at the pink concoction with a dark red swirl in the middle. "Mmmm," you lean forward to admire it. "Wow. It looks good."

He puts his own coffee down and moves the bags under the table. He sits and unzips his jacket to let the tension out of the fabric. You smile and pick up the cookie. You hide behind it.

"I can't eat this alone. It's as big as my face." You giggle. 

You break it in two and offer him half. He eyes it for a moment then accepts it with a thanks. You take a bite then round your eyes at him. He's staring. Oh no. Is that rude? You chew and swallow quickly.

"What?" You hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Nothing. It's just..." he glances around the shop. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" You make googly eyes and cross them. "Is there something on my nose?"

He snorts. "No. There's not." He sighs. "Just haven't had a nice quiet coffee in a while. It's nice."

Your brows pop up and you smile big. "I'm sorry I'm not a big coffee person. I tried it once and it made my belly gurgle."

"It's fine. Bad habit," he taps the handle of his mug with his index finger. "Are you gonna try that cup of sugar?"

"Not much better, is it?" You pick up the mug and blow over it. You put your lips over the brim and taste it cautiously. You hum. "Mm," you pull it away. "Delicious! This is a tummy ache worth having."

His cheek dimples as he watches you. You fidget against his gaze. He's nice but you never had anyone stare at you so much.

[mywritersmind]

TROUBLE - LN4 part three

part one - part two

original summary : Trouble comes in many forms, for Lando Norris, it comes in the shape of his teammates sister. A week at Oscars brings more temptation and impulse than any other start to a season.

summary : Another day passes with tension thick in the Australian home. Except now, there’s champagne and kissing and some guilt involved.

listen up : use of y/n! kissing! cut off smut. dirty jokes lol! guys i wrote it be proud of me!

words : 4488

⋆｡‧˚⋆

you

“Y/n.” Oscar stops me on my way to the bathroom, “We need to talk.”

“Right now?” I raise a brow, holding a towel and my clothes for the day, “I’m about to-”

“Y/n.” His tone makes me sigh but I stay in my spot, “You’re messing with Lando. I can tell.”

Oh… This is not what I expected. “Sorry?”

“I know you. Just- stay away from him, okay? This week is supposed to be relaxing and not distracting.”

I raise a brow, adding sas onto my words, “And I'm distracting?”

“That seems to be a theme with my friends.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his white shirt.

I roll my eyes, “Don’t act like i’m the problem.”

“You’re not! I just don’t want anything to happen. Okay? I’m serious about this.” I can tell he is. I pop my hip and look back at my nervous brother.

“It’s not like I'm going to pounce on him, jeez. Cut me some slack, Oscar.”

This makes his features soften, “I’m sorry… I’m just worried.”

“That I'll corrupt your teammate?” I can’t help but tease.

His face goes back to serious, “Stay away from him, Y/n.”

I lift my hand to my forehead, saluting sarcastically, “Yes sir.”

He leaves me, now laughing to myself at his persistence and pure caution.

I take my time in the shower, the water squirting me right in the eye, making me huff and allowing me an extra long shower. I do my makeup in the bathroom while my wet hair drips down my bare back. I’m blasting music the whole time so I don’t hear the banging on the door until the song switches, “What!?” I yell over the music, about to open the door before I remember I'm only in a bra and underwear.

I’m pulling my shirt on as a voice responds to me, “Christ I thought you drowned or something-” I whip the door open, my shirt falling just above my thighs and staring at Lando. I get sudden dejavu from our first meeting and my lack of clothes then. “Sorry. I just need to do my hair.”

His bedhead is evident, his curls all over the place as he holds a small bathroom bag. I can’t help but laugh at a certain piece sticking straight up, “I can tell.”

He scoffs, “Okay little miss perfect. Not everyone can look hot falling asleep over their cereal.” I narrow my eyes at the memory of this morning.

“All I heard in that sentence was hot.” I stick my nose up, holding the door frame. “But I'm sure I look better now- or at least I will when I'm dressed.”

“Nah I like you like this.” He eyes my attire, or lack of it. I eye, putting my hand on my waist and ‘accidentally’ shift my shirt up when placing my hand on my waist.

I like the way he talks to me. I like the way he’s looking at me even more. I’m a loyal person, I'd say. But my priorities aren’t very hard to shift when an opportunity arises.

I can feel the shift now, Lando standing in front of me looking at me with his lip caught on his tooth and his head slightly tilted down.

I wonder then what he’d taste like. And then I shake my head and step back, “You know what- bathrooms all yours.” I step past him, my body brushing his as I retreat back to my room.

I shouldn’t do this. Oscar asked for me not to do this! I lay on my bed, shutting my eyes and hoping for some sense to be knocked into me.

⋆༺

Sense, even though I prayed for it, was not knocked into me. I wish he was knocked into me.

Everyone’s in the kitchen, talking about the day ahead as I switch on Taylor swift to play from the speaker. Lando is making a smoothie and when I go to pass him, he turns suddenly and knocks into me. It’s not like he threw me to the ground, I just had to step back and I was good on my feet again.

It’s what he does during that freaks me out. His hands find my waist for the smallest second as he mumbles a quick, “Sorry.” before getting out of the way.

I stop myself, blinking and staring out the window above the sink. I have to physically force myself to keep walking and place the speaker in the window, ignoring how every part of my body is now on fire.

I never really thought I had a thing for hands, and then I met Lando.

Sitting at the kitchen island next to Lily, I try to listen to our plans for the day but get distracted once again. He’s holding the blender in place and replying to someone but all I can do is stare at his hands gripping the-

“Y/n?” Lily pokes my arm, “Want to invite anyone over tonight? What about that guy you went on a date with last week?”

Oscar raises a brow, butting into our conversation, “Date?”

I frown at the mention, “Definitely not him. Unless you want his girlfriend to come along too.” Everyone makes an uncomfortable noise at this, “But I can ask some of my friends that are in town.”

Lily’s foot is being elevated on the chair next to her so Lando and Oscar are both standing on the other side of the table.

Until now, I'd completely forgotten that my mom was throwing a little party tonight. It’s mostly our friends and family, something small and an excuse to drink.

⋆༺

lando

I’m sitting in the back seat with Y/n. This isn’t exactly the circumstances I'd like to be back here with but it’s fun nonetheless.

Nicole is having a book club and forced us all out of the house. This is fine by me because I genuinely enjoy hanging out with this group.

“Oscar, turn here!” She’s unbuckled her seatbelt just to yell in Oscar’s ear over the middle console. This makes her butt almost directly in my face.

Y/n is wearing a cropped, worn top; sneakers, and jean shorts which are currently making her ass acquainted with my face. Her bathing suit ties hang on the sides of her waist and I look back out the window because I'm scared Lily will catch me looking.

She sits back in a huff, her brother not following her directions and shoving her seatbelt back into the latch. Her legs are outstretched still, taking up the middle and pressing her sneaker into the back of the passenger seat. She's smiling at me.

“What?” I ask, her smile only growing as she watches me.

She just shakes her head, leaning it against the glass, “Nothing.” I go to say something but am surprised when my words are ran out. I shut my mouth, smirking.

“That’s where I watched Y/n beat up a girl.” Oscar’s words makes me sit up, looking out the window to a very green park.

“Awh, Susie Anderson.” Y/n presses a hand to her heart, “She called me a bitch!” She argues when Lily laughs, “We were eight-“

“Hold on, Osc, you watched?” I laugh as Y/n nods enthusiastically at me.

“She had it covered!” He argues, “She practically sold me a ticket. And what was I going to do? Beat up a little girl?”

“I did have it covered, thank you!” She pulls the sunglasses off her head and onto her face, “What a cunt.”

“Y/n!” Lily laughs.

“She was! Tried to get with Oscar when we were fifteen too.”

“Hate her.” Lily reaches back, high-fiving Y/n swiftly.

We arrive at our destination a minute later, Y/n hopping out of the car with extra pep in her step. When I get out, I realize Lily is holding a basket. “Picnic time!” She grins at me, turning to her boyfriend who is quick to pull her into his side.

The place is beautiful. We’re over a beach, there’s hundreds of people spread out on grass enjoying the sunny day. Y/n comes into view, holding a bouquet of flowers, “Look what I just bought!” She points at a small flower cart up the hill before skipping down to Lily and Oscar like a literal ray of sunshine.

We sit on a blanket, eating food from a literal basket, as the sun beats down on us. I lay on my back, my arm rested across my stomach. Y/n and Lily are talking about what they’re going to wear to the race when Oscar nudges my arm, “What’re you wearing to the race?”

I laugh, sitting up and looking at the two who are talking animatedly. For some reason, this makes me wonder about what my life will be life after Formula one. “Where’d you meet Lily?” I don’t know how he’s never told me, maybe he has.

“Boarding school.” He says, earning her attention quickly at the mention, “We were seventeen. He’s asking how we met.”

Lily smiles as Y/n’s eyes brighten, “We went for visiting day before they started dating and Oscar refused to show me the girls hall and now I know why.” She laughs.

“He was always so nervous to come to my room.” Lily explains, “Probably because the old woman who lived with us was-”

“Horrible!” Lily gives Oscar a look, “Evil? Terrifying? Probably ate children?”

Lily shakes her head, “She was a lovely woman who kept gross boys out quite well.”

“Did you go to boarding school?” I ask Y/n who shakes her head while shoving a strawberry in her mouth.

“No chance- I barely survived at regular school, my parents would have never let me.” She flips her hair over her shoulder, the wind blowing the strands. She's shading her eyes from the sun, looking at Oscar while he tells a story from school.

I try to pay attention to him but I can’t focus on anything but the girl in front of me.

I really should know better. I should think better too! I shouldn’t think about kissing Oscar’s sister while he’s talking to me. I shouldn’t want to.

But she’s beautiful. Like out of this world stunning. And her shirt is so loose that I can see her bikini top when she leans over Lily to grab another berry.

I told myself I wouldn’t get involved in any old or new woman in my life because I need to focus. Max bet me fifty bucks that I would give in to having sex with someone before the season starts.

But now that i’m thinking about it, looking at her and imagining what she would taste like… I think I would be more focused if I gave into this urge.

Or maybe i’m just tricking myself because she’s really fucking hot.

We pack up the things after Nicole calls Lily. It makes me laugh because she called Lily before both of her children, rightfully so because neither of them have their notifications on.

I put the basket into the car, Oscar and Lily already closing the trunk when I go back down ro Y/n to help her fold the blanket.

It’s way too big for her to handle by herself. That’s what she said. I grab the other side and follow her movements to make the colorful fabric smaller.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.” She said as we fold another part together. I raise a brow, not understanding, “With Oscar.”

“How so?” I step closer to her, both of our arms stretched as she grabs the last of the fabric from me.

“You were looking at me like you wanted to eat me.” She folds the last square, walking up the hill.

“Maybe because I do.” I’m joking, sort of. Not really. But I say it in a teasing tone, the dark haired girl eyeing me as we get closer to her brother.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” She shrugs, walking to her side of the car now.

I take a breath, watching her walk away with a smirk on my face and something in me telling myself to not do it. “Trouble…” I say to myself, yanking the car door open and sliding in next to her.

⋆༺

I’m folding the sleeve of my button down when I walk out of the bathroom, my eyes immediately going to Y/n who has her head out out the door and is supposedly looking down the hall.

She sees me, stops, and frowns.

“Do I look that bad?” I say, flattening out the blue shirt that P gifted me.

She sighs, looking back and forth once again, “C’mere.” She disappears back into her room, making me wonder if this is a trick.

I hesitantly walk up to her door, pushing it open lightly and finally revealing all of her. Her back is to me, looking in a full body mirror and making my heart speed up.

She’s in a short light blue dress, or at least, half in it.

It’s unzipped and she’s holding her hair up above her head when she takes a step closer to me. “Zip me up?” She looks back at me, probably confused as to why I'm standing here like an idiot.

“Uh- Yeah!” I nod, stepping behind her and taking the zipper between my fingers. I place my other hand on her hip, trying to not think of this morning in the kitchen, or every fantasy I've had since then.

Her back is even more tan from laying in the sun today and I swear to god, when I see a slip of lace from her underwear, I want to slap myself.

The zipper is tough so I have to hold her a little tighter. I don’t want to hurt her though so I force the zipper into place slowly. It’s agonizing, the fabric closing over her skin in a satisfying finish.

I can’t breathe, looking up into the mirror over her shoulder. We’re wearing the same color. “Looks good.” I choke out, her chest moving up and down beneath the fabric.

She doesn’t say anything but I catch how her eyes dart to the door which is half closed and for a singular moment, I think she might run.

She turns around instead, and kisses me.

Every drop of a tennis ball from my trainer has led up to this moment. I react as fast as I can, her hands on my neck, my hair, pulling me closer. Wanting me closer.

I hold her hips, her waist, her ass. I relish every little breath she takes, how her nails feel in my hair. I fucking needed this. Her.

Her tongue slips in my mouth as I push against her. The fabric of her dress is cool against my skin, my hands hot and needing to hold on tighter.

The second she lets out a little whine, I nearly drop her. It’s the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.

But it’s gone in an instant, pulling away from me with force. “Shit.” Is all she mutters, her hands leaving my skin quickly, her body moving away with them.

She runs- literally RUNS out of the room. She's left me breathless and hard and-

I look into her mirror

Covered in lip gloss.

⋆༺

you

I don’t think my heart will ever beat at a normal pace again. Is this what the drivers feel like in the car?

I down a glass of champagne, smiling at a friend of my moms. I’m happy I quit karting if it is.

“You okay?” Lily asks me, “Your friends just got here.” Shit.

No im not okay! I just kissed my brothers teammate! And he kissed me back! And I want to kiss him again! And fuck- he’s looking at me.

I smile, nodding, “Thanks, Lil.”

My friends as In Jaz and Drew, my literal soulmates. I hug them both, Jaz’s hair gets stuck on my earring. Jaz is in a dark purple dress while Drew is in a little white number that she definitely made herself.

“Where is he then?” Drew asks quickly, looking around as Jaz rolls her eyes.

“Who…?”

“Norris! Who else?” I groan as Jaz shushes her. It’s not like Drew is out to fuck the man, she’s just absolutely obsessed with formula one. Thank god she grew up with my brother and doesn’t think of him more than her friend's brother.

Jaz grabs Drew’s hand, “I need a drink if she’s going to geek out all night.” I laugh, feeling lighter now that they’re here.

“Trust me, I need two.”

Lando finds us before we can find him and maybe it’s a little selfish but when I introduce him, I absolutely leave him with Drew as she asks a million questions.

“You’re avoiding him-” Jaz puts the pieces together quickly, “Y/n what did you do?” I practically shove her at Lily, leaving them both to find my mom.

I used to hate my moms friends. I know it sounds mean, but they’d latch onto me at the worst moments. One time, I tried to sneak out with a bottle of vodka and my family friend literally dragged me back inside and drank straight from the bottle!

Now, I love them. They’re all reading the same smutty books as me and gushing about how beautiful I am. What a life!

“Y/n, dear,” Beck, a woman who’s basically my aunt grabs my arm, “Lando’s staying here? Get on that babe.”

I laugh out loud, almost choking on my champagne, “I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend.” I lie easily but when it escapes my lips I get the horrible feeling that I could be right.

He’s gorgeous, rich, famous… Oscar would tell me, right?

She pats my arm, “Awh you’ve got morals.” Beck smiles like she’s never been prouder, “Well I doubt he does.”

Beck’s wife, Andi, joins us, handing my aunt a drink and catching on immediately, “By the way he’s been checking you out all night, he definitely doesn’t.”

We all look back at him. I thought that three women turning to him at the same time would make him panic, he doesn’t. Lando’s smirk is cool, calm, and collected as he raises a glass to us then turns and walks away.

Beck giggles, fanning her face, “If I liked men-”

Andi swats her wife’s arm, only giving a loving smile along with it, “Oscar!” My brother stops in his tracks, smiling at us. “Set Y/n up with your friend.”

His smile fades, looking pointedly at me.

“I did not put them up to this!” I raise my hands in defense, “Plus!” I snatch a cracker from the napkin he’s holding, “If I wanted Lando, I wouldn’t need to be set up.”

This makes Oscar visibly more uncomfortable but dragged into a conversation with Beck and Andi as I retreat back to my friends.

“Would it be inappropriate to take shots?” I ask as I join Jaz, Lily, and Drew.

“How very highschool of you.” Jaz sighs, brightening, “Let’s do it!”

We end up not doing it. But we have just as good of a time. I haven’t laughed so hard in weeks. I guess when your life is a bit crazy, your girls always got you.

They’re unfortunately plucked away from me one by one. Lily is pulled away by Oscar and Jaz disappeared after going to the bathroom. Drew informs me that she has to go soon, “Before I go…” She smiles at me, “I have to tell you.”

“I’m scared.”

“When I was harassing Lando earlier, something he very politely sat through, by the way! We talked about you. Well, he asked about you. A lot.” I try to pretend that this doesn’t make me dizzy.

She squeezes my hand, “I’m just saying… he’s cool.”

“Cool?”

“No one is cooler than you but he might be cool enough for you.” And then she kisses my cheek and goes to find Jaz before leaving.

I see him then, talking to my uncle. There’s a drink in his hand but I'm pretty sure it’s just soda. His shirt, the one I tugged at when I kissed him, is unbuttoned a bit, his 4 chain sitting on his skin.

It’s the first time all night that I’ve gotten to really watch him. He looks good, He looked even better with my lipgloss on his lips but I ran away before I could really look at him.

The party dies down, the sun going down with it. My friends are gone, I'm pretty sure Lily and Oscar are hiding in his room, and i’m trying to avoid my moms friend who swears she has a man for me.

“Hey.” I practically jump at the sudden voice, turning to see Lando with his hands up. “Please don’t run away again.”

I hold my glass tighter, now for decoration more than hydration, “Hi.”

“You okay, trouble?” He sips his drink, walking closer to me with a hand in his pocket.

I eye him, not fully looking at him yet. “Are you?” I opt to scan the little people left, all smiling and half drunk.

“I’m better than ever. Except that this weird thing happened to me today…”

I say softly, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I got kissed.” I can’t help but smirk a bit at the memory.

“Must’ve been out of the ordinary.”

He nudges my arm, swaying away again too fast, “And then she ran away.”

I stay silent, hoping he’ll say something else. He doesn’t. “I wasn’t supposed to.” I turn to him, “In fact, I was told not to.”

“You were… told not to run away from me?”

“No!” I huff, “I was told not to kiss you. Or ‘mess with you’ as my dear brother put it.”

His eyebrows raise, “Oscar said that?”

“He’s so freaked out i’m going to ruin you or something-”

“What if I want you to ruin me?” I ignore this.

“He should be yelling at you, not me.” I cross my arms, mumbling, “You're the real trouble.”

He smiles at this, grinning at me like I just gave him the best compliment ever.

“You kiss like it.” I finish, looking away again.

My mom walks by in our silence, smiling at both of us wildly, “You two look like a couple!” she points at our clothes, both light blue, before leaving.

“I’ve talked about you way too much tonight.”

“You could have talked to me instead.” He mentions, “I tried like five times but you’re very popular. That and you were actively avoiding me which is totally unfair for someone who left me hard in your room-”

I groan, putting my hand over my face, “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Why? I know you like it.”

I narrow my eyes at him, “You’re evil.”

“You’re hot.” I go to walk away but he follows, “You kissed me.” He says in a hushed tone.

“And?”

“And I know you want to kiss me again.” I stop walking. It’s too late now, I've already crossed the line. His head tilts a bit and suddenly I'm very glad I did.

“I guess I'll need your help.” I sigh, shrugging.

“Hm?” He quirks a brow.

I step closer, “You got me into this dress. It’s only right if you get me out of it.” His smirk is slow, sexy, and only for me.

“Lando!” It’s Oscar. He’s waving his teammate over. His teammate who doesn’t look away from me.

“You know where to find me.” I put on a smile for my brother, heading over to my family with Lando in my wake.

⋆༺

He does help me out of my dress, not in the way i’d like, but unzips me before Oscar calls him into the kitchen.

It’s late when I hear the creaking of hardwood. I smile immediately before reminding myself that he’s only a man.

Then I smile again because he’s a really fit man.

He opens my door slowly, shutting it as quiet as possible. I sit up in my bed, closing my book and watching him sigh in relief. “I swear I thought I heard someone coming-“

He walks over to the end of my bed, kneeling on it. “I nearly shit myself.” He tugs at my ankle, pulling me down as he leans over me, smiling, “Hey.” And then he dips his head to mine and kisses me, pinning my arms over my head as I feel his weight over me.

“You’re quick with it.” I say in between kisses.

“Just wait until you see how fast I can make you cum.” His hand drags down my torso, holding me in place at the same time he slips his hand under my shirt. “Fuck.” Me mumbles when he realizes I'm not wearing a bra.

“Lan-” I whine against him. He really is quick, my shirt is off seconds later, my chest soon covered again by his lips. “Mm…”

I tug at his hair, something he moans at which makes me smile. I kiss him again, harder, deeper. I tug his shirt off, my hands finally giving in and exploring his body.

“Need you.” I mumble, moving my hand to his sweats and trying to pull them down.

“Christ, that's the hottest thing I've ever heard.” He stops my hand, “Not yet.” laying farther down the bed, he drags his lips over my skin.

I’m exposed, he’s staring at my tits and never been more turned and comfortable at the same time. One hand slips under the waistband of my sweats, and i’m gone in an instant, “Your fucking hands…”

He smirks up at me, his mouth slightly parted and my hair still in his hair. “You like that?” he asks, taking his hand away and moving it away from my core. I’m sad only for a moment, then I realize why he’s moved it.

He moves his fingers past my lips, dipping them into my mouth as I respond by sucking. Fuck, it’s hot. He looks so accomplished, watching his fingers test my limits. “Good girl.” He mumbles, making me whine. He’s grinning now, pulling his fingers away and watching the trail of saliva that follows it.

Slipping his hand back down my body, he shoves my panties aside, his fingers curling into me and making my back arch. “You were right, trouble, you do look good enough to eat.”

I laugh at this, though it comes out more as a moan. No wonder he stopped my hand before, he was planning this. His head dips between my thighs, forcing my legs to part as his tongue meets my skin and I bite my lip so hard it bleeds.

[myownwholewildworld]

I'm begging you pleaseeee write something where oldmanjoel gets his girl pregnant. I can even see the smug look in his eyes as he walks around Jackson with you, making sure everyone sees how you're glowing, belly swollen with his kid. You, a pretty young thing, allowed a dirty old man like him to claim you like that. Jesus I'm foaming at the mouth wtfffff god bless Viagra

he'd be the proudest, wouldn't he? would think he's the luckiest man alive. he wouldn't have as many problems to get it up either, i'm sure the sight of you pregnant would have him at half mast without an issue. i wonder if he'd have a lactation kink too? and you? you're hornier than ever, so much so, you don't even care you're in public... mhm...

old man!joel miller filth under the cut 👇

All eyes were on you whenever you both were out in public. How could they not be? You held Joel’s hand unashamedly, kissed his knuckles reassuringly if anyone dared to throw him a side glance. This was your old man. The father of your future child. And he knew it—damn, did he know it. Joel would make sure everyone knew who had claimed you, who you belonged to. He was very protective of you, of his baby too. His calloused hand would distractedly caress your very swollen belly over your sundress at any given chance, like he was doing now. You were thirty-six weeks pregnant, perfectly round with his kid. And Joel couldn’t, quite literally, get his hands off you. At every small opportunity, he’d touch you—his fingers squeezing yours, the palm of his hand protectively spread on the small of your back, his lips kissing your temple.

In bed, Joel was insatiable—he’d wake you up eating your sweet pussy, or fingering you, or worshipping your oversensitive boobs. And when you were putty in his arms after a few orgasms, Joel would kiss your tummy, speak to his child about the wonderful life you three would live together, about how much he loved them already. It melted your heart, filled your soul with a warmth you had not known for a long time now. Life was good. And you had never been hornier for Joel—the pregnancy hormones running wild through your veins, getting aroused just by merely thinking of him ploughing you into the mattress, on the kitchen’s counter, against a wall, in the bath, on the rug by the chimney. There was no surface in your home which had not been sweat on. But you were not at home, you were out in public, and your cunt was getting embarrassingly wet. You could feel the slick between your folds, securely trapped in your slit while your clit throbbed. “Joel, I need to sit down,” you interrupted his conversation with a man. His eyes shot to yours with worry and said his goodbyes to the man before guiding you to a bench in the community hall. He sat down and quickly manoeuvred you to have you perched sideways on his lap. “What is it, sweetheart?” Your pout curled up into a grin, your lips pressed to his ear. “I’m wet, baby. So much I worry it might soak through my sundress,” you admitted in a whisper, kissing his cheek. Joel straightened his back, and you felt a pulse radiating from his bulge lodged between your buttocks. His fingers dug in the flesh of your hip before dropping and smoothing out over your ass cheek. His body was catching up, another throb coming from him when you grinded your ass on him. “You have no underwear on,” he croaked, pecking your right shoulder. You giggled, shaking your head. “Nope. I thought it’d be easier… just in case… you know…” you mumbled while your right hand sneakily slithered down. You slightly lifted off your right leg so your fingers could find the zipper in his trousers and pull it down. Your hand curled around his growing erection to free it from its imprisonment, and you quickly readjusted your position on his lap, so his girthy cock was pressing against your puffy pussy lips. Joel bit the skin on your shoulder to rein in a moan. Your smile widened. “In case you wanted to fuck me here? Now? So everybody can see how good you make me feel, how good you use and destroy my pussy, how good I take your cock… How good you fuck me. So they see why I am yours and only yours,” you teased him, squirming a little. “Fuck,” Joel groaned between clenched teeth. He could never say no to you.

[barbaroonie]

As a communication and service designer, I use AI purely to brainstorm, when I’m really stuck or right before I start my ideation. Specially regarding service, if I still don’t understand what we just learned after researching a bit, I will ask chatGPT a very summarized version of the briefing, most of the times it gives me a redundant and a bit confusing text, but it makes me understand the direction I need to take, like, it confirms that the idea I had was right. So many times the AI’s ideas are so stupid, we use them in ideation sessions to break the ice, as we use the ideas that came up to actually create some good ones.

I feel like the problem with AI is not much the fact that it exists, but the sheer number of people who just want to live in this AI generated world, where they generate their our books based on authors they like, and generate movies, and art and its like… why are you doing that. I use AI to take care of the part I hate about ideation which is creative block, the part of actually creating? That’s all me baby. The same with my boyfriend who is programming (ironically) a type of AI for a class. He never learned about it before, and since the source code was outdated and crazy specific, without AI he could’ve never fixed his code. Everyone I know that is coding feels like AI takes a lot of the pressure off of it and it makes it way more efficient. I don’t see the problem in that.

Anyway, this is to say that I love creating, I love thinking, I love doing mind maps and organizing my thought on figma, I love researching and coming up with solutions. AI hasn’t replaced anything in my work, because I do not want it to. I could, if I hated myself, make my project with AI, call it a day and probably fail the class. But i’ve just implemented it as an unstable tool in my process, and that is just what it is. We are encouraged to use it for our courses, credit it when we do, and reflect on what went well and what didn’t, as well as our prompts. It’s being used as a testing ground literally.

generative AI literally makes me feel like a boomer. people start talking about how it can be good to help you brainstorm ideas and i’m like oh you’re letting a computer do the hard work and thinking for you???

[half-of-a-gay]

PART 4 OF RUGBY VIKA X MANAGER READER PLEASEEEEE ITS SOO CUTE <\3

[A/N: You guys keep asking for this and I have a problem saying no so here you go. Enjoy!]

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3

PART 4:

Rugby player!Sevika x Team manager!Reader

The morning after the date starts slow.

You're in bed longer than usual, half-buried in blankets and replaying everything from the night before on a loop - the warm light of the diner, the way Sevika’s laugh had turned unguarded by the end of the evening, the brush of her hand finding yours. 

You try not to think about it too much. You try to school your expression and put on the best poker face you could muster. But the second you step into the coffee shop to meet your friends, you know you’re not getting away with anything. 

They’re already at a booth by the window, hands wrapped around steaming mugs, mid-conversation until one of them spots you and immediately smirks.

“Well,” she says before you’re even seated. “Someone’s looking suspiciously well-rested this morning.”

You slide into the booth and fight the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m just in a good mood.”

“Mhm. Spill.”

You hesitate for a moment. It’s not that you don’t want to tell them - it’s just that talking about it out loud makes it feel… fragile. But they’re your friends, and you did promise to fill them in.

“We went out last night,” you say finally. “Me and Sevika.”

You keep going, your words measured. “She took me to this old diner. Said it was kind of her safe spot. We just talked, ate pie, nothing wild. But it was… good. She was different than I thought she’d be.”

There’s a brief, telling pause. One of your friends glances at the others, exchanging a look that’s hard to miss.

“She didn’t even kiss me until I did it first,” you add quickly, almost too quickly. “She was actually kind of nervous.”

Another pause- longer this time. The weight of it hangs between you, and the air feels suddenly thick.

“I thought she ghosted you after the away game,” one of them says, their tone carefully neutral, but the undertone is there. It’s pointed. “Didn’t you say something happened, and then she just… disappeared?”

You feel your chest tighten at the reminder. Your hand wraps around your cup, fingers tightening around it, but you force yourself to stay calm.

“It wasn’t like that,” you insist, a little too forcefully. “She didn’t ghost me. She just… shut down for a while.”

“Isn’t that worse?” someone else chimes in. “I mean, you barely said what happened but we just don’t want you getting blindsided again.”

You stiffen. “It’s different now. She opened up. She took me somewhere that matters to her. I don’t think she does that with everyone.”

“Are you sure?” one of them asks gently. “You’ve had a thing for her for ages. You really think you’re seeing this clearly?”

You blink. The warmth from earlier starts to feel thinner. Shaky. 

Another one of your friends leans back in her chair, arms crossed. She’s quiet for a beat, then speaks slowly, as if weighing her words. “I don’t know… I mean, it sounds nice and all, but you’re talking about Sevika. The same Sevika who’s kind of known for sleeping around and disappearing when things get real? And, I don’t know, you really think she’s different with you? After all that… history?”

Her words are gentle, but they sting, the undertone of doubt there- unavoidable.

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady. “She’s been different. I’m telling you, she’s not what you think.”

They exchange another look. You know they’re trying to be careful, but there’s something in the way they’re looking at you- something a little too knowing.

“She’s got a reputation,” another says, a shrug in her voice. “It’s not personal, it’s just… you said yourself  she doesn’t let people in, right? How do you know she’s not running the same play she always does? Maybe that diner’s her move. Sob story, meaningful eye contact, pie, boom. Hooked.”

Your heart sinks, but you fight it. You’re not going to let them make you doubt this. Not yet. Not when you know, deep down, it’s been real between you two.

“She’s not like that,” you say, quieter now. You take a breath, then meet their eyes, more firm. “You don’t get it. Sevika’s… complicated. But I’m telling you, she’s trying. And she’s not the person you think she is.”

There’s another long pause. This time, the silence feels different- not like understanding, but like uncertainty. 

—

The conversation with your friends lingers in the back of your mind as you walk towards the field for practice. The buzz of the café around you fades, but their words, the doubts - they stick. You had been so sure of yourself before, so open, so willing to jump in without hesitation. But now, a voice in the back of your head asks: What if they’re right? What if you’re just another one of Sevika’s fleeting moments?

You push the thoughts away, trying to focus on the here and now, as you arrive at the field earlie like you usually do. The sun paints the world in soft, golden hues. The morning air is cool, a contrast to the rising heat of the day. It's quiet, just the sound of your footsteps echoing across the grass, your mind still tangled from your conversation with your friends. You tell yourself it’s no big deal, that you’ll shake it off, but a little knot of doubt lingers.

As you make your way across the field, you spot Sevika already warming up. She straightens when she sees you approaching. Her posture is relaxed,arms crossed, but there’s a quiet tension in the way she watches you approach. She’s early. You weren’t expecting her to be, since she’s late for practice. For a moment, you can’t help but feel a little warmth in your chest. That’s what she does to you - makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room, even when it’s just the two of you.

You step closer, the soft crunch of grass beneath your shoes the only sound between you.

A slow smile tugs at the corners of Sevikas lips as she greets you. “Hey,” her voice is low but warm. “I didn’t think I’d beat you here.”

“Neither did I,” you say, chuckling softly, though you can’t help but feel a little lighter in her presence. You don’t want to overthink it, but it’s hard not to. “How long have you been here?”

“Not too long,” she replies, not offering more than that, but the way she glances at you - just a little longer than necessary - lets you know she’s been waiting for this. For you.

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the familiar stir of doubt creeping in. Your friends' words still echo in your mind. You try to push them away, but they linger, casting a shadow over everything. You bite your lip, not sure if you should say anything. You should just act normal, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters when Sevika looks at you like that.

You don’t say anything right away, just stand there in front of her, your eyes bouncing from her to the side and back, not quite sure how to act. It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. There’s an expectant hum beneath it . She doesn’t tease, doesn’t smile - just looks at you with that open, steady expression of hers that always makes it hard to hide.

"You’re being kinda quiet today,” she says finally, tone low, careful. “Everything alright?”

You hesitate. There’s a soft warmth in your chest at her asking, at the way her voice dips, gentle just for you. You nod, but it's shaky, uncertain. “Yeah, I just... stuff’s been on my mind.”

She doesn’t push. Just tips her head slightly. “Want to talk about it?”

You almost say yes - almost spill all your insecurities - but then your chest tugs and twists and you find yourself unable to loosen your tongue. Your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sevika just waits patently, eyes locked on yours. You’re about to finally spit it out, about to open the door to the mess you’ve been carrying all morning - when the sharp crack of a cleat on gravel pulls your attention.

Voices. Laughter.

The sound of Sevikas teammates spilling onto the field bursts the quiet little world you'd just started to build between the two of you.

You blink, shoulders tensing. Like you’ve been caught. You take a step back before Sevika can say anything. “I- uh- I’ll see you out there.”

Her brows knit, confused. You don’t wait to see if she calls after you.

Practice is a blur and Sevika can’t focus at all.

Not on the drills, not on the plays, not on her teammates shouting out positions or the coach barking through a megaphone. She runs the plays, hits her marks, does everything right on paper- but her mind keeps drifting.

To you.

You, on the far side of the field, planner in hand, expression tight. You’re not watching her. Not like you usually do. Usually, you steal glances when you think she’s not looking- those little flickers of interest, that slight raise of your brow when her muscles flex. Sevika's always noticed. Always looked for it.

But today? Today, you're all business.

Eyes on the team. Voice clipped, efficient, distant. And Sevika hates it.

She catches herself glancing over at you again- fourth time in ten minutes. Her steps stutter. She curses under her breath and pushes harder through the drill, jaw tight. "Focus," she mutters to herself.

But she can't- not when something’s wrong and you won't even look at her long enough to say what it is.

On the other side of the field, you're trying to look like everything’s normal. Pen tapping the cover of your planner in a controlled rhythm. But your eyes keep drifting too. To her and worse- to the girl beside her- number 9.

A newer teammate, a year younger, shorter than Sevika but just as quick on the field. You’ve noticed the way she hovers around Sevika for a while now. Always close. Always laughing at anything Sevika says. Always “accidentally” brushing against her arm when they line up. And Sevika never pushes her off. 

You’d told yourself it didn’t bother you. That it didn’t mean anything. That Sevika’s body language was stiff- barely engaged. And besides who were you to be bitter about it, she wasn't even yours.

But you couldn’t help it. Today your chest is tight with every little interaction. Every time she stretches way too close beside her. Every time she leans in, grinning like she knows something you don’t.

And Sevika just stands there. Not encouraging it- but telling her to fuck off either.

It gets to you even if it shouldn’t.  Because you can’t help but think: Was there something between them?  Did she ever bring her to the diner?

You shake your head, trying to shove the thoughts down. Trying to focus on your job. On the team. On not caring.

But your eyes find Sevika again, just in time to see the girl laughing too loudly at something and resting her hand on Sevika’s arm- too casual, too familiar.

And the way Sevika doesn’t flinch- doesn’t shrug her off-  It hits you right in the stomach. You look away before you can let it show.

But Sevika sees your eyes narrow, sees the set of your jaw shift, and her gut twists. She doesn’t know what she did, but she knows something’s off.

The rest of practice blurs by in a haze of second-guessing and tension. And the secondit+s over, you’re gone. Your strides are long and brisk, head down like you’ve got somewhere urgent to be. You don’t. You just can’t be here. Not with the weight in your chest getting heavier every time you catch Sevika out of the corner of your eye. Not with that girl still smiling at her like she knows her. Like she’s been there.

Maybe she has. Maybe that diner wasn’t special.  Maybe  all of it was just another version of a thing she’s done before.

You feel stupid. You told your friends they were wrong. That Sevika was different. That what you had meant something. But now, with every second that passes, you’re starting to wonder if you just saw what you wanted to see.

She didn’t even pull away from that girl…

Across the field, Sevika sees you move. Sees your sharp exit, the set of your shoulders, the way your head stays low. And her stomach drops.

She doesn’t move. Just stands there, eyes fixed on the corner you disappeared around. Her hands flexing at her sides like she doesn't know whether to chase you or punch something. And the only thought running through her head is: Fuck. I messed up again.

Behind her, number 9 walks up and bumps her shoulder bringing her out of her daze.  “Hey, Cap,” she says, voice bright. “Drinks with the team tonight?”

Sevika blinks at her. “What?”

“You know. Post-practice. You in?”

She hesitates, eyes still on the space you just vacated. “…Not tonight.”

The girl’s smile falters. “Oh. Okay.”

Sevika doesn’t even offer an excuse. Just turns and starts walking toward the locker room.

—

Sevika sits alone in the locker room long after most of the team has cleared out. The only sound is the low hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of pipes somewhere in the walls.

She hasn’t moved in ten minutes. Just sits there, elbows on her knees, hands loosely hanging, staring at the floor like it might give her answers. But all she can think about is the way you walked off the field. And the way you refused to look at her. Her stomach churns.

What the hell happened?

The date had gone well. At least she thought it had. You said you had a good time. You wouldn’t have said that if it wasn’t true… right?

So what changed? Was it the diner?

She swallows hard, jaw tightening as her thoughts circle back there.

Was that too much? Too personal?

She wanted it to mean something. She thought it did. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe it scared you off. Maybe you saw too much of her, too much of the quiet, lonely parts and decided she was too much, too complicated.

She scrubs a hand down her face, leans back against the lockers with a dull thud. Her eyes squeeze shut.

She can’t remember the last time she felt like this. So off-kilter. You weren’t supposed to matter this much, this soon. But you do.

And now she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She replays every moment from the date again. The way you looked around the diner like it was magic. The way your fingers had brushed hers across the table. The way you kissed her so softly at your door.

She’d gone home that night feeling something she didn’t let herself name. Something that sat heavy in her chest and warm in her ribs. Now she feels like she’s watching it slip away. And she doesn’t even know why.

Behind her, there's a quiet scuff of feet and a soft thunk of a locker door.

Then a familiar voice- calm and too perceptive by half. “Hey.”

Sevika stiffens slightly. Looks up.

Ran.

They’re leaning against the lockers across from her, one leg crossed over the other, arms folded like they’ve been there long enough to read Sevika’s whole emotional state and draft a thesis on it.

But her expression isn’t mocking. Not this time. Just curious. Concerned. Sharp around the edges in that way only Ran can pull off without sounding like they’re lecturing you.

“You good?” she asks.

Sevika exhales, slow and tight. “Fine.”

Ran tilts their head, unconvinced. They sit in silence for a while. Sevika keeps scowling at the floor until– “...No.”

Ran’s arms loosen just slightly across their chest. They don't smirk, don't push. They’re reading the room, watching Sevika carefully like she’s a skittish animal ready to bolt.

“She left fast,” Ran says, voice even, like it’s just an observation.

Sevika’s jaw flexes. “I noticed.”

Ran shifts their weight but doesn't break eye contact. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

After a long pause, she adds, casually: “She looked upset.”

That lands hard. Sevika doesn’t respond, but her eyes flick up- sharp, stung. Ran watches her reaction. Tucks the confirmation away without comment.

“I don’t know what I did,” Sevika mutters finally.

Ran nods slowly, arms still folded. “Date go bad?”

“No. It went—” Sevika breaks off, shaking her head. “It went good. She smiled. She kissed me. We texted after.”

“Then maybe it’s not about the date,” Ran says.

Their tone stays light, neutral. But they watch Sevika closely. Measure the way her brow furrows, the way her hands clench tighter between her knees.

“Could be something else,” Ran adds, “or someone.”

The shift is subtle. Intentional. She doesn’t say the teammate’s name. But Sevika’s body goes still.

Ran sees it but doesn’t press. Just lets the implication sit. A nudge, not a shove.

“Shit,” Sevika mutters.

And that’s all Ran needs to hear. They push off the locker, stretching lazily like they’re just making conversation. “Look, I don’t know what happened,” they say. “But if it’s important maybe stop staring at the floor and start figuring out how to fix it.” And just like that, they turn to go.

No judgment. No teasing. Just their usual quiet brand of tough love, dropped like a stone in the middle of Sevika’s spiral.

Sevika stays where she is for a few more seconds. Then drags both hands down her face with a groan, before reaching for her phone.

—

You’re halfway through changing when your phone buzzes across the desk. You don’t even look at first. You know who it is. You feel it in your chest.

Eventually, you check– Sevika. Calling.

Your thumb hovers over the screen but you don't answer. Not out of spite. Just… you’re not ready. Still too wrapped up in your own head, caught between doubt and guilt and god, I wanted her to be different.

The call rings out. The screen goes dark. You sit back against the chair, heart pounding, mind racing. You tell yourself it’s fine. That she’ll get it. That you’re allowed to need space.

But a minute later- She calls again.

You stare at the screen longer this time. There’s a weird ache in your chest. The same ache you felt after that night at the away game- when she pulled away without a word. When she vanished and left you scrambling, wondering what you’d done wrong.

And now you’re doing the same thing. You sigh. Run a hand through your hair.

Then you swipe to answer.

“…Hey.”

There’s silence on the other end for a second too long.

Then: “You picked up.” Her voice is rougher than usual tense, but quiet. Like she wasn’t expecting you to actually answer.

“Yeah,” you say. “I didn’t want to ignore you. I just… needed a minute.”

Another beat. Then she asks, cautious: “Did I do something?”

You close your eyes.

“No,” you say softly. “I mean- not on purpose. I don’t know.”  You pause, then add, “It’s not fair to make you guess.”

More silence. You hear her exhale through her nose.

“Can we talk?” she asks. “Like- really talk?”

You hesitate, then nod before realizing she can’t see you. “Yeah,” you say. “Okay.”

You don't know exactly what you’ll say yet, or how to explain the way your mind spun out all day over something that probably wasn’t even real. But you know one thing for sure: You don’t want to hurt her. Not like that. She doesn’t deserve that.

—

Twenty minutes after the call, there’s a knock at your door. You hesitate for a second, then cross the room and open it. And there she is- Sevika.

In a hoodie that’s a little too big on her, sleeves pushed up just enough to show the veins in her forearms. Her hair is still damp from the shower, pushed back messily like she didn’t bother with a mirror. Her jaw is tense, her mouth set in a line that tries to stay calm, but the twitch in her fingers gives her away. Like she couldn’t stay still after hanging up. Like she came straight here, nerves and all, just to make this right.

She looks beautiful. Your breath catches a little. Because somehow, she always looks the best when she’s like this- unguarded. Like she doesn’t know how fucking magnetic she is.

The hard line of her shoulders. The storm in her eyes. The rawness she doesn’t know she’s showing.

God, she’s too much.

“Hi,” she says, voice low and rough at the edges.

You blink, breath still caught in your throat. “…Hey.”

You step back. “Come in.”

It’s quiet for a while.

You sit on the couch with Sevika, the space between you charged with quiet tension. She’s waiting. Not pushing- just waiting. You take a shaky breath, looking down at your hands in your lap. You’ve been turning the words over in your head all day, but now they feel jagged in your throat.

“I know it’s dumb,” you start. “But… I saw you today. With her.”

Sevika’s eyes narrow slightly, not defensive- just focused. She knows who you mean immediately.

“That girl- on the team. The one who’s always- flirting with you. All over you.” You say it flatly, trying not to sound bitter.

“Oh,” Sevika says, voice low.

“And it just… got in my head,” you admit. “Because you didn’t push her away.”

Sevika shifts like she wants to explain, but doesn’t interrupt.

Your throat tightens. “And then I couldn’t stop thinking about what my friends- ” The words come too fast. 

You freeze. Eyes wide. You cover your mouth with your hand like you could shove the sentence back inside.

Shit. You didn’t mean to say that. But it’s out now.

Sevika sits up straighter, eyes sharpening immediately. “…Your friends? What did they say?” she asks carefully.

You look away. “Forget it.”

“No,” she says, firm but low. “Tell me.”

You shake your head, but she leans in- voice softer now, but insistent. You stare at the coffee table like the grain in the wood might save you. Then, reluctantly: “They said some stuff. After the date.”

Her hands are already curled into fists in her lap.

You rush to soften it. “It wasn’t like- they didn’t mean it like that. They just… they’re protective. And they remember how upset I was after the away game. And they think I’m-”

Your voice drops to a near whisper.  “-setting myself up to get hurt.”

That hangs there for a second too long. You look down again, swallowing hard. Sevika stills. Her hands curl into fists in her lap, slow and tight. And her jaw clenches so hard you see the muscle twitch. And when you finally glance up at her, her gaze is on the floor, her face holds an unreadable expression. But the silence is brutal.

She breathes in, shallow. Then finally says- soft, flat: “They think I’m not serious.”

You wince. “I’m not saying they’re right. I’m just- ”

“No,” she cuts in. “It’s okay. I get it. I know what I look like from the outside.”

You turn to face her. “Sev- ”

“I know what people say about me. That I’m cold, distant, not the relationship type. They're not wrong. I’ve always kept people at arm’s length, kept things short, casual. Easy to build a wall when no one expects anything from you.”

She swallows, jaw clenching.“So yeah, I get why it looks bad. Why they’d think I’m just doing it again.”

There’s no bitterness in it. Just cold honesty.

“But that’s not what this is,” she adds. She looks up, and her voice is rougher now. “I need you to know that.”

You don’t interrupt. You just watch the way her eyes shine more than they should, the way her jaw clenches like she’s holding something back.

“I’m trying,” she says. “I’m fucking trying.” Her voice breaks- just slightly. Her jaw flexes again. Her chest rises with a shaky breath, and her eyes flick down, then quickly away, like she doesn’t want you to see it.

But you do.

You see the way her eyes gloss over, the way her shoulders tense like she’s barely holding it together. Not crying, but on the edge of it. Misty and raw in a way Sevika never lets herself be seen.

And your heart just splinters.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, your voice catching. “I’m so sorry. I just-” You exhale shakily. “I got scared.”

You feel it more now- the weight of it. How unfair it was. The way her voice cracked. The way she’s sitting so still, trying not to fall apart.

“I let them get in my head,” you admit. “And that’s on me.”

She doesn’t respond, but her breath hitches. She blinks hard and presses her tongue to the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to choke the feeling down. Her hand in yours is warm and solid, but her fingers twitch, betraying the spiral beneath the surface. Then her eyes dart away, and you catch it- the tear that spills over before she can stop it.

She rubs it away with the back of her hand- rough and fast, like it embarrassed her just to let it fall. You reach up, gently, and brush your thumb along the other side of her cheek. She stiffens at the touch, but doesn't pull back.

You search her face. “You’ve been doing everything right, Sev. I just- got in my own way. And I’m so sorry.”

She blinks again. Breath shaky. Voice rough.

“I’m not good at this.”

You give a tired, self-deprecating little huff in response. “I’m not proving to be much better…”

“I mean- I let a couple offhand comments from people who weren’t even there outweigh everything I saw and felt that night. I’m not exactly winning any awards over here.”

Her mouth twitches, just barely. “So we both suck at this.”

You smile, just a little. “Yeah, well… at least it keeps us even”

She huffs something close to a laugh, but it tapers off fast. Her face still feels warm and flushed.  “Fuck,” she whispers, sniffling. “I don’t cry. What the hell are you doing to me?” A shaky breath escapes her, half a laugh and half something else.

You lean in until your forehead presses to hers, your hand cradling the side of her neck. Her eyes flutter shut. Her shoulders finally drop. And for a long, quiet beat, you just sit there. Forehead to forehead. Fingers tangled between you.

After a while you pull back just slightly, just enough to look at her. Her eyes are still red around the edges, still glassy, but she doesn’t try to hide it anymore.

You tilt your head. “Wanna stay a while?” You smile, small and warm. “We could… put something on. One of those bad action movies you like. Something with explosions and horrible acting. Preferably violent.”

She huffs under her breath, but there’s the faintest lift at the corner of her mouth. “Watch it,” she mutters. “Those are classics.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Mmm, sure. Deeply nuanced storytelling… Nothing says emotional range like twenty minutes of slow-mo gunfire and a one-liner about justice.”

“Okay, now you’re just asking to be kicked off the couch.” she says, deadpan.

“I’d like to see you try, big girl” you murmur, grinning.

She looks at you, eyes a little softer now. Like she can breathe again. And then you tilt your head, tone dropping low, teasing around the edges.

“I mean… your shoulder must be acting up again. It’s been weeks since you crawled into my lap whining about how you needed to be held?”

She groans immediately, dragging a hand down her face. “Fuck’s sake.”

You smile—just a little. “I’m just saying. You made a very convincing case last time.I’m just trying to be a responsible manager here.”

“Don’t,” she warns, but she’s already fighting a smile.

You don’t say anything. You just tug her gently down with you, guiding her head onto your chest. And when she follows- quiet, still a little raw- you don’t push or tease anymore. You just cradle her into your arms, wrapping them around her and letting her sink into you, like gravity takes her. 

And maybe that’s all they need right now- just this. Just here. And for it to finally feel like a beginning.

[holyblonded]

baby basquiat | blue stars

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: valerie’s artwork doesn’t make it into the art show, so you and estrella make a change

notes: this is future fic! so estrella and azulita are like 19ish so val around 3 or 4!!

Alexia knew it was going to be a problem the second you and Estrella said you wanted to come with her to pick Valerie up from nursery. She knew.

She had naïvely believed that things would be different now that you two had moved out with your girlfriends. Surely, surely you two would finally chill.

Then both your apartments ended up in the same building and less than two minutes away from home. Alexia still sometimes thinks about that day and feels the urge to cry.

Still, she had hope when she parked the car and leaned against the hood, waiting for the bell to ring. Maybe, just maybe, today would be normal.

But when Valerie came trudging out of the building, her little custom-made pink and purple Barcelona backpack swinging from her shoulder, a huge piece of crayon-colored paper crumpled in her arms, and her mouth twisted into the saddest pout imaginable, Alexia’s heart sank.

Before she could even move, you and Estrella were already sprinting towards her like hounds smelling blood.

You reached her first, scooping her into your arms with a soft but worried, “What’s wrong, my jefita?” You squeezed her tight, cradling her like she was the most precious thing in the universe. (Little boss)

Valerie sniffled against your shoulder. “My art didn’t make it into the art show,” she whimpered, voice shaking. “And I worked so hard on it.”

Estrella crouched in front of her immediately, her hands flying everywhere, checking her, fixing her backpack strap, tucking her hair behind her ear. “WHAT? What do you mean? Let’s go back inside right now and have a chat, Val. Who do I need to talk to?”

You turned a scandalized face to Alexia, while Estrella was already scoping out the doorway like she was about to storm inside and file a formal complaint or possibly throw hands with a preschool teacher.

Alexia let out the world’s longest sigh and muttered under her breath, “I already regret bringing you two.”

When you both started toward the door, practically vibrating with righteous anger, Alexia caught your collars without even looking and yanked you back.

“Try it,” she warned, voice low and deadly. “Try it and you’re both running laps until you puke. And I’m telling Olga that you caused another disruption at Valerie’s school.”

You and Estrella froze immediately, looking at each other and then back at Alexia, calculating. Was revenge worth it? Was being grounded and humiliated in front of Olga worth it?

You two sulked back toward the car, defeated but not for long.

Once everyone was loaded up, Alexia didn’t even bother trying to wrestle Valerie into her car seat. She was curled up in your lap in the back, sniffling softly as you rubbed her back and fed her little pieces of her afternoon snack.

Estrella was in the passenger seat, aggressively squeezing one of Alexia’s old stress balls as per direct orders to “calm her crazy ass down.”

“I made a lot of pictures,” Valerie mumbled sadly. “I worked really, really hard. I even drew the whole team, and a dinosaur wearing a crown, and a big rainbow… but the teacher said none of them were good enough.”

You felt your hands clench involuntarily.

Estrella looked like she was two seconds away from launching herself out of the moving vehicle.

“When I asked her why,” Valerie continued, “she just said not everyone can make it. That my art wasn’t… special enough.”

You and Estrella stared at each other in the rearview mirror with twin expressions of pure rage. Alexia met your eyes briefly and shook her head no.

You barely stopped yourself from jumping out at the next red light to beat up a preschool teacher. Only because Valerie needed you more right now.

Eventually, with her belly full and tucked safely against you, Valerie drifted off into a nap.

As soon as you were sure she was out, you snapped your head toward Alexia, whispering fiercely, “I hope you know that the big sisters,” you pointed between yourself and Estrella, “officially do not approve of this preschool anymore. We are looking for others immediately.”

Alexia sighed so hard she almost deflated in her seat. “I know,” she muttered, like a woman bracing for the storm.

By the time you got home, the sun was dipping low and Valerie was still out cold. You carried her inside carefully, setting her down in her bed and tucking her in, kissing her forehead gently.

Meanwhile, Olga had just stepped out of her office, still in business-casual mode, stretching her arms overhead when you and Estrella cornered her like hounds spotting fresh prey.

“OLGA!” you blurted. “You will not believe what happened—”

“Valerie’s art was rejected, ” Estrella added dramatically, “and the teacher was rude—”

“and we’re planning revenge—”

“—but smart revenge—”

Olga raised her hands like a traffic cop. “Girls. Azulita. Estrella. Calm down before you end up committing a felony.”

“For Valerie?” you and Estrella said at the exact same time. “Worth it.”

Alexia wandered into the hallway looking exhausted, rubbing her temples.

“There’s a better way to handle this,” she muttered.

Olga nodded sagely. “We’ll look for a new nursery. Clearly this one’s not it. And no revenge plots. Understood?”

You and Estrella looked at each other. An idea was already forming. A big, sparkly, neon sign idea. Neither of you said a word out loud. But the sparkle in your eyes gave you away immediately. Olga and Alexia both groaned simultaneously.

“Don’t,” Olga said warningly.

“Just… don’t end up in jail,” Alexia pleaded.

You and Estrella shared matching grins. Too late. The chaos was already in motion. And this time, it was for the best reason in the world.

The apartment was dead silent when you and Estrella slammed a giant whiteboard down in front of everyone. Soleil, Vicky, Ona, Jana, Bruna, Lamine, and Sydney were all spread out on the couch, staring at you two like you had lost your minds. Which, honestly, wasn’t far from the truth.

The whiteboard was covered. Arrows, stars, labeled plans, circled plans, bolded plans. You and Estrella stood proudly on either side of it, both wearing sunglasses indoors and holding markers like weapons.

Soleil leaned toward Sydney and whispered, “We don’t even own a whiteboard. I have no idea where she got that from.”

Sydney leaned back and muttered, “We don’t own one either.”

You immediately snapped your fingers at them. “Listen up! No time for chatter. This is serious business.”

Sydney and Soleil both sat up straighter, biting back laughs.

Estrella cleared her throat and started pacing like a military general. “Operation Baby Basquiat is officially in motion. We have a crisis. Valerie’s art was snubbed by her fake hater of a teacher. So we, the responsible adults we are, will be hosting her own art show. A real one. Where she’s the star.”

You nodded seriously, clicking your marker like you were about to sign a peace treaty. “We are avenging her honor.”

The team nodded solemnly.

“Assignments!” Estrella barked, stabbing the whiteboard with her marker.

She pointed at Soleil and Sydney. “You two. Decorations and snacks. You will make this look like the grand opening of the Louvre.”

Soleil immediately pulled out a notepad, determined. Sydney, on the other hand, just gave a shaky thumbs up.

“Vicky!” you shouted dramatically. “You’re on ticket distribution. You will personally hand every guest their VIP badge — and you are also Hype Manager in Chief. If you don’t gas her up like she’s Picasso reborn, you’re fired.”

Vicky saluted. “Consider it done.”

“Bruna, Ona, Jana,” Estrella continued. “You three are in charge of the price tags and the gallery descriptions. Every single piece needs a fancy label. Titles, ‘estimated worth,’ deep artistic meanings. Make stuff up if you have to. Valerie deserves the best.”

Bruna grinned and pulled out a handful of glitter pens. “Say less.”

“And…” you turned to Lamine, narrowing your eyes. “…DJ duty.”

Lamine beamed, already scrolling through his phone.

“NO BAD BUNNY,” Estrella warned.

“Or old SpongeBob songs,” you added.

Lamine looked offended. “You’re killing my creative freedom.”

“You’ll survive,” Estrella deadpanned.

Meanwhile, Soleil was already sketching decoration ideas, Sydney was googling “easy kid party snacks,” and Vicky was making fake VIP badges on Canva.

You tapped the whiteboard again. “Now. Security detail.”

You and Estrella dramatically whipped off jackets to reveal you were both dressed in full “Secret Service” fits— black suits, sunglasses, and earpieces.

Ona almost fell off the couch laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly serious,” you said.

“Deadlier than deadly,” Estrella added.

“Security detail is simple, while you guys set up here at Alexia and Olga’s house, we are going to take Ale, Olga, and Baby Val to her favorite restaurant to distract her.”

“Nobu,” you and Estrella said in unison, both grimacing.

“For a little kid, she has expensive taste,” you muttered.

“But it’s fine,” Estrella said, throwing an arm around you. “Anything for our little artist.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, even Lamine, who was still grumbling about music censorship.

You both clicked your markers one last time, slapping them down onto the whiteboard tray like gunslingers.

“Alright team,” you said. “You have your orders. Make Baby Basquiat proud.”

Everyone jumped into action immediately. Soleil and Sydney began measuring the living room for streamers and balloons, Vicky started cutting out badges, and Bruna, Ona, and Jana were sprawled out on the floor designing little price tags with the most ridiculously fake deep art meanings ever. (“Crayon Chaos: a commentary on the fragility of human emotion.”)

As you and Estrella started practicing your “bodyguard walk” around the apartment, sunglasses on, earpieces crackling, Estrella leaned in and said, “We are either the greatest sisters in the world or absolutely insane.”

You nodded seriously. “Both.”

Across the room, Lamine’s chaotic playlist kicked in and Bad Bunny’s bass rattled the floor.

Estrella sighed dramatically and whipped out her walkie-talkie. “Security to DJ, you’re violating code pink. Stand down.”

Sydney, from her spot taping up streamers, called out, laughing, “This is going to be a disaster.”

You just grinned. “Exactly.”

Dinner at Nobu was supposed to be elegant.

Alexia, Olga, Alba, and Eli were all dressed to the nines, perfectly tailored outfits, polished shoes, jewelry sparkling under the soft restaurant lighting. Valerie was wearing a tiny pink designer dress with little white sneakers, sitting between Alexia and Olga, happily swinging her legs.

Everything should have looked normal. Until you and Estrella walked in, still fully dressed in your ridiculous “security” uniforms.

Black blazers, black pants, sunglasses indoors, earpieces tucked into your ears like you were guarding a world leader. You even had those little wires running down your backs, which were, in fact, not connected to anything. The entire table went silent the second you two approached.

You both scanned the restaurant dramatically, walking in step like the FBI had been personally summoned to Nobu. Estrella had her hands clasped in front of her like a proper bodyguard. You were whispering into your fake wrist mic.

Alexia stared at you. Blankly. Like she was mentally rewriting her entire life to figure out what decisions had led her to this moment.

Valerie broke the silence by squealing in laughter, clapping her hands. “My bodyguards!”

Olga closed her eyes for a second and took a slow, painful breath. Alba covered her mouth with her hand to hide her laugh. Eli just shook her head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like, “Those girls need holy water.”

You and Estrella stood stiffly next to Valerie’s chair. Every few seconds you’d both scan the restaurant like someone was about to jump out and kidnap her.

Alexia picked up her glass of wine with the slow, practiced patience of someone who had already given up trying to parent two grown feral teenagers.

The entire dinner passed like that awkward small talk, occasional bursts of giggles from Valerie every time you two leaned in and whispered “Agent One checking in,” and the adults exchanging the most judgmental side-eyes in history.

Finally, Olga snapped. She set her fork down very gently, turned to you two, and asked in the most exhausted voice, “Why in God’s name are you dressed like that?”

You and Estrella exchanged a look.

Without missing a beat, you both said, completely deadpan, “Protocol.”

Olga blinked at you. “What protocol?”

Estrella pushed her sunglasses up higher on her nose. “Classified.”

Alexia put her face in her hands. Alba turned fully away from the table so they wouldn’t see her laughing. Eli just muttered, “Lord.”

Valerie, meanwhile, was beside herself, giggling so hard she accidentally dropped her spoon into her plate.

You leaned down dramatically and whispered into your earpiece, “We’ve got a situation at Table 4. Repeat: Situation at Table 4.”

Valerie almost fell out of her chair laughing.

Olga just shook her head. “You two are insane.”

“We’re professionals,” Estrella corrected seriously.

Alexia finally looked up, eyes full of pure regret. “You’re nineteen years old. Not secret agents.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” you muttered under your breath.

Somehow— somehow, dinner actually went on. The adults tried to pretend everything was normal. Valerie could barely focus on eating because she kept giggling at every ridiculous thing you and Estrella did, standing guard by the bathroom door when she went, inspecting the sushi before letting it near her plate, making vague hand signals to each other across the table.

At one point, Alexia reached over and very casually snatched the fake earpiece out of Estrella’s ear and dropped it in her wine glass without a word. Estrella just put a hand over her heart like she’d been personally wounded.

“Agent down,” you whispered.

Valerie nearly passed out from laughing.

When the check came, Olga practically threw her credit card at the waiter just to get you all out of there faster.

As you all left the restaurant, walking to the car, you and Estrella dramatically flanked Valerie, doing fake tactical sweeps of the parking lot. Valerie played right into it, ducking and weaving between cars like a little spy on the run.

Alexia muttered under her breath to Olga, “When they were born, God said, ‘Let’s make it harder for you specifically.’”

Olga just patted her arm and said, “You chose this life.”

As everyone piled into the car, Valerie tucked into her car seat finally, still giggling.

“Best. Dinner. Ever,” she said through a yawn.

You and Estrella fist bumped in the backseat.

“Mission accomplished,” Estrella said proudly.

Alexia sighed so deeply it shook the entire car.

The setup was nothing short of chaos. After hours of working, Soleil, Vicky, Sydney, Ona, Bruna, Jana, and even Lamine somehow managed to turn Alexia and Olga’s house into a legitimate art gallery.

Lamine finally finished the chaotic playlist he had been crafting after Soleil, Vicky, and Sydney vetoed a good half of his selections. No, they would not be playing the old SpongeBob theme song at Valerie’s art show. Nor would Bad Bunny’s most explicit songs make the final cut, no matter how much Lamine whined about “vibe.”

Once his playlist was approve, barely, he was immediately dragged into the kitchen to help with the snacks.

It was mayhem in there. Soleil and Sydney were running it like a Michelin star kitchen, barking orders, throwing sprinkles, and demanding perfection. Lamine, who was tasked with arranging cupcakes into a perfect tower, wiped sweat from his brow dramatically and muttered, “This is hell.”

Meanwhile, Vicky stood vigilantly at the front door, handing out lanyards to every guest arriving. Each lanyard was homemade, bright colors, glitter, and a printed “Valerie’s Baby Basquiat Art Show” badge.

Anyone who showed up empty-handed?

Vicky sent them right back out the door. “No gift, no entry!” she declared, physically pushing Ferran Torres back outside until he returned sheepishly ten minutes later with a stuffed unicorn under his arm.

Inside, Valerie’s artwork was displayed beautifully along the walls. Framed drawings, bright paintings, colorful collages, each one had a tiny handmade “price tag” under it.

At the very center, mounted proudly above the fireplace, was a painting Valerie had done of her family: Alexia, Olga, Alba, Eli, Estrella, and you. It was messy, colorful, full of heart. the best thing any of them had ever seen.

Fairy lights twinkled overhead. A massive BABY BASQUIAT banner hung across the room. There was even a juice box tower— an honest-to-God tower of stacked juice boxes, built like a champagne pyramid. Tables were covered in snacks, cupcakes, cookies, little sandwiches shaped like paint palettes.

Everyone was dressed nicely, cocktail dresses, slacks, the works. It truly looked like a high-end art show… if you ignored the juice boxes.

The door suddenly swung open. You and Estrella literally rolled in, you on a skateboard, Estrella on a scooter, both still in your ridiculous black suits and sunglasses from earlier. You skidded to a stop in the middle of the room and immediately started surveying the area like you were running security at the Met Gala.

You both nodded at each other seriously, like you were the commanders of a highly secret mission.

Then together, you yelled, “BRING HER IN!”

The doors burst open again and there was Valerie, holding hands with Alexia and Olga. Her little dress bounced as she skipped inside.

She gasped the second she saw everything. Her name in huge letters on the banner. All her artwork, displayed like a real gallery.

The crowd of people clapping and cheering just for her.

Sydney and Soleil rushed forward first, each holding a giant bouquet of colorful flowers. Valerie’s eyes went wide with awe. She kissed them both on the cheek before squealing and running into yours and Estrella’s arms.

“THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!” she cried, hugging you both so tightly you nearly lost your balance.

You hugged her right back, lifting her easily off the ground.

“You’re the star tonight, Baby Val,” you whispered.

Valerie beamed up at you with so much happiness it made your chest ache.

After a few minutes, Valerie wriggled out of your arms and started making her way around the room, talking to everyone, pointing proudly at her drawings, explaining what each one meant, and accepting gifts and hugs like a true queen.

Alexia and Olga sidled up to you and Estrella, both giving you pointed looks.

“So this was what all the secrecy was about,” Alexia said, crossing her arms.

“You two are out of control,” Olga added but she was smiling.

“You’re welcome,” Estrella said smugly.

They shook their heads, but then pulled you both into quick hugs. “Thank you,” Olga said softly. “This means the world to her.”

The night only got better from there. At some point, Estrella took the mic and started the “auction.”

It was supposed to be a pretend auction— just for fun. But no one told Salma and Vicky that.

When a painting of a unicorn in a Barcelona jersey came up, Salma immediately bid twenty euros. Vicky, not to be outdone, shouted, “Fifty!” Then Salma countered with seventy. Vicky screamed, “A HUNDRED!”

It escalated fast.

Soon, the two were in a full-blown bidding war, shouting over each other while poor Sydney tried to mediate. Alexia had to physically separate them before things got bloody.

Meanwhile, you had one more surprise for Valerie. You pulled a tiny velvet box out of your pocket, called her over, and opened it to reveal a custom gold chain. It sparkled with little pink and purple stones, and the pendant read BABY VAL in huge, blinged-out letters.

Valerie gasped so loudly half the room turned to look.

“You’re the boss now,” you said, fastening it carefully around her neck.

Vicky and Lamine immediately started recording as Valerie, tiny, radiant, chain swinging around her neck, started dancing hard to the unapproved Bad Bunny blasting from the speakers.

Meanwhile, Alexia and Olga cornered you, arms crossed, giving you synchronized death stares.

“You spent HOW much on that chain?” Olga hissed.

“It’s an investment,” you said innocently.

“She’s FOUR,” Alexia added.

“Bosses start young,” Estrella shrugged.

Alexia looked like she aged five years on the spot.

Finally, at the end of the night, after Valerie had danced herself into exhaustion, she grabbed your hand tightly.

“Can you help me up there?” she asked, pointing to the little stage area where the auction had been. You immediately lifted her up, handing her the microphone.

Valerie took a deep breath, her cheeks flushed pink from excitement.

“Thank you everybody for coming to my show,” she said, voice small but clear. “Thank you for buying my art and giving me flowers and juice boxes and hugs. I love you all. Thank you for making me feel really special today.”

The entire room melted into awws and cheers.

You helped her down carefully but when you tried to set her down, she refused to let go.

She wrapped her arms around your neck and whispered, “Thank you for making me feel like a real artist.”

You hugged her tighter, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“You’re already a real artist, Baby Val,” you whispered back.

And for once, even Estrella didn’t have a snarky comeback, she just wrapped both of you in a huge, warm hug.

[scary-grace]

This art did something bad to me, so instead of editing Opposites Attract like I was supposed to, I wrote a follow-up to hands-off, hands-on. Canon-esque, Shigaraki x reader, belligerent sexual tension, blowjobs. Pretty obviously rated E.

hands-free

As soon as the closet door shuts, Shigaraki’s pinned back against it. He tries to keep a decent poker face, but it’s not easy when you’re glaring at him like that. “What is your problem?”

“I’m not the one with a problem,” you snap. “You don’t get to be a dick to me just because you popped a boner at the wrong moment.”

“I – didn’t,” Shigaraki snaps in response, willing his face not to turn red. “If I did, how would you even know? Is it that hard to keep your mind off my cock?”

“To be honest, Shigaraki? I only think about it when it’s ruining my day,” you say. Shigaraki scoffs, tries to step away from the door, only for you to close the space between the two of you and push him back against it. “Like when you’re so pissed about being horny that you try to cut me down to size in front of everyone.”

Shigaraki would argue that on principle, if there was a principle, but you’ve got him figured out on this one, and you haven’t even used your quirk on him. If you’d used your quirk on him, you’d have figured out that it’s about you, because of you. As it is, you just think he’s an asshole, and he’s better off that way. If you knew the truth, there’s no way you’d have dragged him in here. And definitely no way you’d have locked the door.

“We’ve been over this,” you say. “I thought we had a deal.”

You did. It was a pretty good deal for Shigaraki – he got a handjob, and you got off his shitlist. And stayed off it, because in spite of the fact that Shigaraki’s annoyed with you no matter what you’re doing, you’re pretty good at playing your part within the League. With that in mind, Shigaraki didn’t have any business going off on you at the strategy meeting today. Except that he had a dream about you last night, and he was still thinking about it this morning, and he got so annoyed with his inability to stop thinking about it that he blew up at you before you could even open your mouth.

You’re still glaring, waiting for a response. “Yeah. We have a deal,” Shigaraki says. “What did you want me to do? Tell you to meet me in my room in front of everybody so you could get me off?”

“You could have told me before the meeting,” you point out. “So now I’m meeting you here.”

Your hands settle on Shigaraki’s waist, your palms warm through the thin fabric. Shigaraki’s mind skids to a halt as you drag your fingers along the waistband of his pants, hooking one finger beneath it before letting it fall back. “You can’t do that in here,” he says. When did his mouth get so dry? “Are you crazy?”

“Apparently I am, for sticking around to be your favorite punching bag.” You edge the waistband of his pants ever so slightly down, exposing the crests of his hips. Shigaraki clenches his jaw as a shiver travels through them. “Maybe if I do a better job this time, you’ll come to me first instead of picking on me in front of everyone and expecting me to figure it out.”

You’re going to touch him. Shigaraki can barely stand to remember what happened before on a normal day, but right now, when you’re practically pinning him to the door? He forgot that the process of you helping him get off involves making the whole problem worse. He can feel your breath against his neck as you lean in close. “Keep your hands to yourself this time,” you say. “I don’t want to have to steal another one of your hoodies.”

You stole one from him last time, after he ruined your shirt. Shigaraki realizes with some degree of horror that you’re wearing it right now. You pull his pants down roughly, freeing his cock, and he bites back a groan. He doesn’t have to look down to know that he’s painfully hard, and if he wasn’t leaking precum before, he’s doing it now, because he’s thinking about you jerking him off while wearing his clothes. He should have pulled you aside this morning. Should have dragged you back to his room. Shigaraki’s hips twitch, seeking friction, and you step back.

He hates the way you’re looking him up and down, and you’re not doing anything. “Don’t just stare. Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” Your hands are still grasping his hips, thumbs running over his hipbones until he squirms. “Like this?”

One hand dips between his legs, loosely cradling his balls. Why does everything feel so much better when you’re doing it? Shigaraki mumbles a curse, shifting impatiently as he waits for your other hand to leave his hips and curl around his cock. The hand on his hip stays where it is as you sink to your knees in front of him.

You’re – what? Shigaraki’s jaw slackens at the thought, let alone the sight of you down there, tilting your head to consider his cock. The pressure of your hand on his hip increases as you lean forward and drag your tongue across his tip, and Shigaraki’s focus narrows down to your hands and your mouth and nothing else.

He leans back against the wall, trying to stay balanced, but it’s hard to do when you’re making his back arch like this. You’re barely doing anything beyond playing with his tip, drawing him partway into your mouth so your tongue can caress the underside of his cock. Shigaraki’s hips jerk forward, seeking more, and your other hand rises to pin him in place. What is Shigaraki supposed to do now? Just sit back and take it? That’s what he did in the dream that fucked him over today – sat back on his bed with his hands tied over his head, while you sucked mark after mark into his torso and his hips and his thighs. You never touched his cock, and Shigaraki was still desperate when he woke up. Desperate enough to hump pillows. Not desperate enough to go to you.

He should have. He would have, if he’d known you’d do something like this. Shigaraki’s legs are starting to shake, and worse, he’s clawing at his neck again, trying to ground himself in the face of what you’re doing to him. It’s not possible. You told him to keep his hands to himself, but there’s nothing for Shigaraki to touch. Not you. Definitely not you. Shigaraki makes the mistake of glancing down again. You’re sucking on the tip of his cock, your eyes fluttering shut, and you’re wearing his clothes. Shigaraki lets his head fall back against the door and moans.

He’s never felt like this before, not even when you were touching him last time. Something about you pinning him. Something about the fact that you dragged him in here yourself. Shigaraki’s back arches again, stays frozen there, while his hands tangle up in his own hair and his jaw aches with the effort of holding back the sounds he wants to make. When you pull away, he actually whines in protest. “Don’t stop –”

“Are you sure you like this?” you ask. “You’re so quiet compared to last time.”

Shigaraki’s face flushes. “What do you think?” he spits, as you nudge his shaking legs further apart. “Do you need me to say it?”

“It might be nice,” you say, like last time. Your lips brush against Shigaraki’s stomach as you lean forward again, and you keep kissing him. Another whine forces its way through Shigaraki’s clenched teeth as your teeth scrape over his hip. “Yes or no is fine.”

“Yes,” Shigaraki says, hating how ragged his voice is becoming. Hates how his body spasms as your lips move along the crease between his leg and hip. “Yes. I like it when you – ah, fuck – fuck –”

Swearing isn’t as pathetic as moaning, but Shigaraki’s moaning, too. He’s too loud. The entire city can probably hear him. You let go of his hips, but only for a second – long enough for you to change your grip, to pull him forward against your mouth, close enough to press your nose into his hair. Shigaraki could thrust, but there’s no point. He’s all the way as close as he can get, and you wanted him there. You’re the one holding him in place as your throat convulses around the head of his cock. You’re the one who won’t let him go.

You aren’t letting go, but he begs you anyway – not to stop, to make him come. Your fingernails dig into his hips as you swallow hard, and Shigaraki comes in a shaking, whimpering, pathetic rush. Your throat convulses again, and again, your grip on his hips so tight that he’ll have scratch marks or bruises by the end of the day. Shigaraki can’t think about that, any more than he can think about the fact that you’re swallowing. All he can do is shudder in your grip, keeping his hands to himself, until you finally draw back and let him go.

Shigaraki falls back against the door with a thud. You sit back and clear your throat, then swallow a few more times, grimacing. No points for guessing why. Shigaraki untangles his hands from his hair and pulls up his pants, trying to string a sentence together. “You didn’t have to swallow.”

“No?” You cough again. “I thought guys liked that kind of thing.”

It’s hot to know that you’re willing to. Really hot. Shigaraki’s pretty sure this will be featuring in every single horny daydream for the rest of his life. Still – “I wouldn’t want to eat it, either.”

“Good to know.” You get to your feet, wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, then try to nudge past Shigaraki to the door. “Move.”

“Hey.” Shigaraki leans back against the door, then throws out his arm to block your way. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Out. I don’t want to spend the rest of the day in here.” You try to get past Shigaraki again, and he refuses to move. “What?”

“You know,” Shigaraki says. There’s something you did last time that you forgot this time. You’re looking at him blankly, without a hint of recognition, and Shigaraki loses patience – with himself this time, which is new. “Fuck it. Don’t move.”

“Hands to yourself,” you warn, but Shigaraki doesn’t need both hands – or any hands – for this. He leans in, and you don’t move in time, and in spite of knowing exactly where your mouth has been, it’s still a pretty good kiss.

tag list: @shigarakislaughter @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @lvtuss @f3r4lfr0gg3r @evilcookie5 @lacrimae-lotos @warxhammer @agente707 @shikiblessed @atspiss @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @cheeseonatower @koohiii @stardustdreamersisi @issaortiz @dance-with-me-in-hell @minniessskii @handumb @aslutforfictionalmen

[star-suh]

Lights, Camera, Action !

Park Jisung x Male Reader

cw: camboy park jisung his nickname is song, big dick jisung (11”), established relationship

—

park jisung or song – how is he known in the av world – is a famous content creator, he’s always on the top of users on the platform. many people would ask why that is. it only takes some clicks to realize why – an 11 inch dick hanging in between his legs – is massive, girthy and veiny. it’s like a dream for the people out there, they want it inside them claiming they can take it all.

-”please let me ride it, i promise i’ll take it balls deep” he read in one of the comments on his livestream.

-“hahaha guys i’m not planning to do collabs, just solo things for now”.

crying emojis flooded the chat, why is he forbidding everyone the pleasure of touching and feeling such massive meat. it’s a question that every subscriber and fan asked themselves, if he did collabs he would escalate spots and be the number one on there. would be a lie to think he hasn’t thought about it but he doesn’t wanna do it with anyone he has just one person in mind, his boyfriend.

they met back when they were living in the university dorms, as a way to pay his fees jisung took advantage of his little friend down there an opened an account on the website, the first video was of him just jerking off, ‘first video’ was the title of it and it quickly gain recognition in between the platform users. ‘so big’, ‘i need him so bad’, ‘until the room stinks’ were some of the comments he received.

the next video was of him squeezing an entire little bottle of lube, coating his shaft in beads of the liquid that rolled down towards his balls and made it glisten in the light. moans and little whispered fucks can be heard in the recording, once again the video was a hit for him, making subscribers eager to know when the next video is gonna be reuploaded. in one of his recordings he made loud noises that disturbed the student next door, yn, who angrily storm his way out towards his neighbour. he opened the door without knocking catching jisung spurting ropes of cum all over his body, he has a ski mask on – to have at least a bit of animosity – after he rode his high he turn his head to the side to see yn standing there, mouth agape and in shock. he just saw jisung orgasming but not only that, he saw that big ass dick hard as a rock. 

“what the hell jisung?” he said surprisingly, a whispered shout, closing the door immediately.

“why do you think i’m jisung?” the man questioned, trying to act fool. “these aren’t shared dorms dumbass” yn turned around breaking eye contact, face flushed and his dick threatening to get rock hard, “cover that monster please” he says as he leaves the room leaving a dumbfounded jisung lying on the floor, tired, “ahh shit i feel so tired to get up and clean myself” he uttered while staring at the ceiling.

next day was awkward between the two jisung apologized for the situation and yn did the same because at the end of the day it was his fault for not knocking first. “ok then but you have to accept my invitation to go eat something”, “i would accept but to be honest i don’t have enough money right now” yn muttered lowly, ashamed. “don’t worry, it’s on me”.

days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the dates became something regular in between them, in one of them jisung confessed to yn how he gets all that money and the av job he had now. “are you disappointed in me?” jisung asked –pouting.

“uhmm… i’m not. it’s your life man do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t affect your well being” jisung looked at him surprised, “besides… you umm… have a really nice thing down there” yn look everywhere around but jisung, his cheeks turning into a pinkish hue, the same happening to jisung, “thanks i guess”. next thing they knew was them on jisung’s bed letting all the steam and sexual tension go.

soon jisung asked yn to be his boyfriend and he accepted, jisung’s content creator side job wasn’t a problem at all for yn because after all is just videos of him stroking his dick. they can fantasize all they want about it but would never have it.

“come on baby, let's do it”, jisung tried to convince yn, “i'll put a ski mask on you too, no one would know it's you”. “i know jisungie but i don't know, you're fine doing it as a solo. what if they stop supporting you because they're seeimg you fucking someone else” he sighs, “their fantasy would fall down” he adds.

“i don't really care prince, plus, this is what they want” jisung walked closed towards yn, handps gripping and kneading yn's ass, “they'll go crazy seeing this slutty ass engulfing 11 inches. such a hungry pussy, almost ☆☆☆☆ if you ask me”. he kissed yn's neck then went up towards his lips brushing them with his tongue. yn opened them up letting him go inside and explore it with it. yn uttered a little "okay” agreeing to do it.

jisung was setting his camera ready while yn got ready when a notification popped up, someone just subbed to his page. happy he opened the app cheering a bit, he opened the camera of the app to record a thank you video for his followers. “are you ready?” yn came into picture, with the black ski mask on him and wearing only a thong, the piece of clothe was so little that the backside was barely covered, it was just a finger-thick string that sat pretty right in the middle of yn’s hole.

“fuck, look at this” jisung smacked his ass, “are you so eager that you are already eating the thong?” he said pulled the string to then let it go smacking yn's hole, drawing a moan out of him”. jisung didn't remember that he was on the platform's camera, he was ready to press the record button when yn sat on top of him, making him slide his finger setting to the live button. he then pressed the red button thinking he was recording.

*SONG IS LIVE* 

song and his boyfriend were making out not noticing the live chat, in their minds they haven’t started recording yet so why bother checking out?. 

-”damn he decided to do collabs”.

-”me next”.

-”finally an ass is bouncing on that pole, we cheered”.

-”so hot, i’m gonna nut so hard!”.

his followers were going crazy, jisung’s heavy dick staying still in between yn’s cheeks, a fat drop of precum forming on the tip. while they were kissing jisung applied oil on both yn’s ass and his dick making them shine. yn pulls the string on the thong up so there’s nothing in between the warm, throbbing dick of his boyfriend and his pulsating, eager hole. then he releases the string for it to fall and stays taut on jisung’s dick, securing it. the string working overtime trying to hold in place such a thick piece of meat.

the precum started to roll down his shaft, landing on yn’s hole. coating it with the clear substance, mixed with the lube poured before. “ufff” yn sighed, eagerly to take the first inch inside him. their fucking is always tortuos for them, not because of the pain but because they have to restrain themselves –yn wanted all of it inside at once while jisung wanted to fuck his brains out. the tip is already inside, loads of precum coating yn’s walls. the head making its way inside in charge of stretching so the rest of the dick could enter with no problem.

yn’s insides stretched to the max, every inch that entered hurt like hell but iit was delicious, a pain that yn loved, soon it will turn into pleasure anyway. sinful noises coming out of his hole, engulfing his partner’s cock, the viewers going crazy in the live chat.

-”woah look at that, he could take it all”.

-”craving that boypussy”.

“you’re taking it like a champ” jisung praises, kissing the pain away –his lips covering the other’s collarbones with kisses and some hickeys here and there. finally jisung bottomed out, his dick bulging the other’s tummy. “tell me when to move” jisung reassured, smacking both his hands on each oiled cheek leaving his handprints on there, then grabbing a fistful to jiggle them around his cock, yn whimpering thanks to the sensation.

-“he definitely trespassed his second hole”.

-”the perfect fleshlight”.

some viewers said on the live chat. “you’re being so good for me” jisung mutters, “a good cocksleeve”. “your good cocksleeve” yn corrected him and kisses him, his tongue licking jisung’s lips. he then moved his hips, rocking them in a circle motion, squeezing his hole around jisung’s throbbing cock. “fuck prince keep doing that” jisung expressed, his hands on yn’s hips to guide him. the bulge on his stomach moving along with each movement. jisung locked his arms around yn’s torso to keep him steady and he started to thrust upwards slowly at first but the pace started to accelerate little by little. his thrust went from slow almost sensual to fast, brutal ones. 

-”is he a bottomless pit? how is he able to take all that?”.

-”I’M CUMMING FUCK!!”.

jisung withdraws his dick leaving just his swollen head still inside, then gripping yn’s hips with force he sank him down his rock hard meat. a guttural moan came from yn’s mouth, every viewer excited about the show their looking at. “fuck, love this greedy boypussy” jisung grunts, “so eager. starving for my big thick cock”. “whose this pussy belongs to?” jisung jiggled his globes with his veiny hands, nails being buried on the skin, “belongs to you baby” yn whimpered. once again jisung pulled out leaving only the tip inside and made another brutal thrust, yn’s body jerked due to the overstimulation. thankfully yn could handle jisung’s dick if it was another person they would surely be broken already. 

yn’s hole clenches on it, with all the strength left in his body. the lube turning creamy white for all the friction created by the merciless thrusts given by the top. “milk me dry baby. swallow it all with your whore boypussy”. yn kissed him while putting his hands on jisung’s shoulders –to gain leverage. then he plops himself on top of jisung leaving him the rest of the job, using yn like a toy to pursue his orgasm.

jisung used yn’s hole like his cocksleeve, giving him gently thrusts that signaled he was close, “cum with me”, jisung uttered latching his lips on yn’s nipples while one of his hands coated in spit jerked him off. yn’s body trembled, being stimulated on both sides was overwhelming him but he loved it, especially if it’s jisung doing it. the top pulled out, giving his cock a few strokes that made him spurt his sperm, ropes of it were expelled like a fountain, covering yn’s back and glutes. meanwhile in the front yn’s sperm was being scooped by jisung who then smeared it on his softening cock to put it inside the bottom, “cockwarm me baby” he demanded and yn nodded.

“we got carried away that i forgot to record” jisung laughs and stares at his phone, his smile fading immediately when he saw the live sign on red, “oh fuck” he uttered quietly. “umm guys, i hope y’all liked it, it’s a teaser of what is coming next on my page so stay tuned” he managed to disguise his concern as if everything was planned. it worked tho, his followers were loving his content even more, now they can see that 11 inch cock in action, drilling on poor asses that are brave enough to take it.

[echo-exco]

GRAAAAAH⁉️ HELP‼️ You wrote such a masterpiece, I'm already so HYPED for the next chapter ONG.

With the batfamily's personal agenda and inability to reach out, their past forever haunting them.

I imagine that the realization that their present, where they actively ( idk if intentionally ) ignore the reader, now "past", will haunt them forever.

Especially Bruce's reaction, his internal struggle with the fact that if he was just a little bit warmer, the chaos caused by the future villain who used to be under his roof, could've been prevented.

Question tho, how would they all eventually turn yandere? They seem to have all never interacted before, so I can't see them suddenly feeling the need to be there for the reader. Either it would be self-righteous beliefs or they'd just think she overreacted. ( bring in the angst LMAO )

— "BEEDALEAF." 🥬

Aww! Thank you so much! I’m really glad that what I wrote was good for you, the readers 😌 I also hope to bring the next chapter soon!

The batfam has their own problems and responsibilities to deal with. Even healer!reader is aware of that, which is why she tries to avoid bothering them with her needs, whether emotional, intellectual, educational, social, or even sometimes financial.

Healer!reader has always been able to take care of herself, with or without a family. What truly affects her is the fact that she can’t use her powers while in Gotham, out of fear that someone from the batfam might find out.

Now, no one in the batfam ever intended to ignore healer!reader on purpose. Some of them might even think they never ignored her. It’s just that everyone assumed she probably had something else to do—or they simply forgot about the requests and questions she had made.

Because, for better or worse, the batfam sees healer!reader as too… ordinary for the family.

Since no one knows (yet 😼) that healer!reader has extraordinary healing abilities, they genuinely believe she’s just the most normal and average daughter of Bruce Wayne.

As for Bruce, he’s definitely going to regret everything. Healer!reader’s future doesn’t look very warm or pleasant for anyone involved.

If only she had had a father, someone to remember, someone she could trust and feel safe with… would that have changed anything? Would she have stayed?

Does Bruce even know his own daughter?

I can’t say healer!reader will be a villain in the future, but she definitely won’t be a hero either. Just think of her as, quite literally, a “human machine made to save thousands of lives.” Of course, depending on your point of view, you could see healer!reader as either a villain or a hero…

As for how they’ll all eventually become yanderes… Well, I like to think the yandere instincts were already there, buried deep inside. They just needed a (massive) little push to finally activate.

Like I said before, they all believed healer!reader was just a very “normal” child for the family. No one ever bothered to look past that.

That’s partially why they kept their distance from her… as if they genuinely thought she’d be better off not getting involved in family matters. Because, to them, healer!reader is someone who hasn’t seen the worst of the world yet, someone who hasn’t been through anything truly traumatic.

They think she’s better off where she is. They believe that way she’ll be safe from everything bad.

And to be fair, healer!reader herself wouldn’t have let anyone dig too deep into who she really is.

She doesn’t want the batfam to know her. She just wants to leave Gotham and go back to the medical field with Masashi. Healer!reader wants to use her powers. Being in the mansion makes her feel restrained and useless. She doesn’t like being there.

She can endure the neglect— it’s something she’s always survived through. What she can’t handle is the thought of not knowing when she’ll be able to use her powers again.

So you can imagine what’ll happen in the future when the Batfam finally learns about healer!reader’s powers. That revelation is going to hit them hard—with guilt, with regret.

I can absolutely picture them noticing healer!reader’s disappearance and brushing it off as a typical tantrum from a child (even if they don’t understand why she’d act that way). But as time goes on and she gives no sign of life… well… that’s when the first alarms start to go off.

And of course, we still have to see Duke and how his presence will affect healer!reader.

Sorry if the response was a bit long. I just hope it cleared up all your doubts.

[astroellies]

imgonnagetyouback (chapter 1)

prologue here!

ellie williams x reader

moving somewhere new was never easy. especially in the apocalypse. and especially when you think your crush despises you.

warnings! cat’s the cause of all the problems whoops. ellie and reader are 18ish/young adults. loser reader. a bit of loser ellie. miscommunication trope. useless lesbians. slight rivals to lovers. enemies to lovers(?). mention of reader wearing a skirt but it’s just a nod to the song. canon typical violence. probably ooc ellie.

a/n this took me soooo long post i’m so sorry ahaha. hopefully it was worth the wait!

PRESENT DAY

you had spent the past year and a half proving to ellie that you were not into her…by besting her in everything.

it wasn’t intentional really. with no one to daydream over you focused on the community in jackson. you applied yourself during farming rotations, made efforts to attend community events, you even helped maria and the council to govern the town.

what you didn’t know was that it drove ellie fucking insane. she thought you were cute when they found you, shy and sweet. maybe she couldn’t admit it to herself but she felt the need to protect you. she wanted to have a relationship with you, she didn’t care if it was romantic or platonic (maybe some guilty piece of her hoped for the former) but out of the blue you shut her out. and on top of it, you had to be better than her at everything.

you always took down the first infected on group patrols. you helped maria and tommy plan town dances. you volunteered more than scheduled to work with the animals and in the greenhouses. you showed newcomers around town. you even got along with joel. it made her crazy.

but she couldn’t find it in herself to hate you. not when you smiled when you placed the school children on your hip and pointed to the birds flying over jackson. or when you spun around on the dance floor with dina in that pretty lilac skirt. or when you talked to your horse as you led it back into the stables after patrol.

she didn’t understand why you had shut her out. you were still perfectly normal with everyone else.

it all made her feel crazy.

you on the other hand were thriving. with the exception of when you saw ellie. which was often. jackson’s population wasn’t very large.

so in your best effort to diminish your crush you ignored her your very best. you refused to make eye contact when you passed her on the street. you changed the subject when she came up in conversation. you avoided her like the plague. cat had made it a clear ellie was uncomfortable by you and you would not further embarrass yourself.

so when dina told you you were partnered with ellie for patrol all you could say was,

“no.”

“what do you mean no?”

“i’m not going on patrol with ellie.” you cross your arms over your chest and stand up from the tomatoes you were watering.

“well you don’t really have a choice. joel got called for some construction thing and she can’t go alone.”

“why can’t you or jesse go? you guys are like her best friends.”

“because we’re on kitchen duty, no offense but you and ellie are both shit cooks. why are you being so weird about this?”

“i’m not being weird, dee.” you let your arms drop to your sides, feeling a bit too confrontational. dina knew to avoid the topic of ellie around you after you shut down her teasing countless times.

“i’m sorry, tommy asked for you specifically. you guys are going to be on a challenging route and you’re the best shot jackson has. you know how joel is when it comes to ellie’s safety.”

you sigh, you were not winning this—no matter what you said, “when do we leave?”

dina checks her watch, “in ten.”

you scoff halfheartedly and make your way home to collect your things.

when you get to the stables ellie has already mounted shimmer. her hair is tied back in a ponytail and she’s fighting with a piece that keeps drifting into her eyes. she looks nice, her forest green henley offsets her hair in a way that makes it looks even more auburn. you shake your head. no you wouldn’t do this, not while you were on patrol with her.

you grab your usual horse and saddle up.

“looks like we’re partners today.” ellie says, turning shimmer towards you, trying to start up a conversation. was she mocking you?

“yep.” you say and look towards jesse who’s ready to go on his usual patrol spiel. trying very hard to ignore her presence.

from the corner of your eye you see ellie’s face twitch.

the two of you set off on your route, long awkward silences are only broken up by even more awkward conversations.

“should we stop in this house?” “yeah.”

“you still have ammo?” “yeah, you?” “yep.”

“we should stop in the office building up ahead. joel told me the last couple patrols haven’t checked it.” ellie’s turning her head to you, here eyes catch in the sun. they turn light and olive.

“kay.” you nod.

you hop off your horse and before you can tie it to an old bike rack ellie is grabbing the reigns from you. “i got it. there’s a stream a couple hundred yards east, we may as well let them drink while we work.”

when she’s done tying the horses you point to the wide open main doors, bloody footprints lead inside. “keep an eye out, looks like some infected wandered in since the last patrols.”

she nods and pulls her handgun from the holster on her thigh.

she steps in front of you, so she’d entire the building first.

“ellie y’know i was put on this patrol to keep you safe. what are you doing?”

“eh, i rather i get bit than you.”

you sigh, “don’t say things like that. neither of us can get bit.”

the first floor of the building is clear so the two of you make your way to the second floor. it’s much more disheveled than the first, spinning chairs and paper strewn across the floor. was this from outbreak day? or from something else?

screeching comes from a hallway closet. the two of you turn.

“are they in the closet?” you whisper to ellie.

“the fuck? sounds like it.”

you approach the closet, “i’ll open the door you get them?”

“yeah, okay.”

you position yourself so that the door acts like a shield and slowly open it. two runners make their way out and ellie comes up behind one, stabbing it in the neck. she’s busy on the next one when something comes up behind you.

you don’t have time to register what’s happening before you’re shoved to the ground, accidentally slamming the closet door on your way down. what the fuck. all you can see above you is rotted skin and snapping teeth.

you push the infected back enough to see what it is. stalker. in the struggle to the ground you dropped your gun. it sat just out of reach above your head.

your arms are burning from trying to push the infected off of you. you can’t see ellie but imagine that in the commotion the remaining runner jumped her. maybe she’ll let the stalker get you and get rid of you for good. she could make it seem like an accident.

you were so royally fucked. just when you feel your arms giving out, a shot rings and the stalker drops on top of you.

you’re stunned for a moment. you had your fair share of run ins with infected but never this close, never close enough you could feel their nails in your skin.

you manage to find the strength the shove the infected off of you and are half sitting before ellie is at your side. you feel liquid trickling down your face and you realize you’re covered in the stalker’s blood.

her eyes are wide, “are you hurt?” she’s pulling you to your feet and scanning you for cuts and bite marks. your ears are still ringing from the bang of her gun.

you feel dazed and scared, “i…i don’t think so.”

she pulls a cloth from her bag and wipes your face. you snap back to reality and push her away.

“i’m fine.” how could she act like this? hate you and be so kind and gentle with you.

she looks a little confused, “are you sure? that was close…i…if you need a minute we can take a break.”

“i’m fine, ellie. we should go before more find us.” you get up and stomp your way out of the building.

“right.”

you two get back to your horses. you pull a rag from your own bag and slash it with water, doing your best to clean the blood and bits of zombie brains off of your face. you’re still shaken from the close encounter.

patrol goes on like usual, you make your way through the woods, following the path made by other patrollers. you’re looking through a pair of binoculars at the countryside when you heard ellie sigh.

“shit.”

the bridge over the river in front of you has completely collapsed. well at least it didn’t give out while you two were on it.

“what d’you want to do?” you ask.

“uhm,” she looks around, “i think there’s a town a mile or two south. maybe there’s another bridge there? it’s probably overdue for a sweep anyways.”

“yeah, okay.” you nod. you seriously fucking hope that it’s quiet, you don’t think you can deal with more infected today.

the hike is nasty, what were once roads were now rubble and weeds. it took nearly an hour to travel the two miles.

the town is as equally run down. the few houses that are still standing are covered in vines and look to be on the brink of collapse. there is a bridge, however.

ellie gives you a cocky smile, “told you.” cute, you think before you can stop yourself.

“you’re just going to walk across it? what if it gives out like the other one?” you ask, keeping you and your horse a safe distance away from the bridge.

“eh, it’s probably fine.” she’s already moving her horse across it.

“ellie!” you say, over annunciating the uh noise at the end. what the hell. if joel and tommy wanted you on patrol with ellie to protect her and she dies from falling into a fucking river you were so dead.

but she makes it across and yells from the other side “c’mon!” her tone is playful, like she’s daring you to walk across it.

you sigh and reluctantly step onto the bridge. surprisingly and thankful it holds. when you reach the other side she’s smirking again.

“told you it would work.”

“good thing. what if it broke while one of us was on it?”

“c’mon i wouldn’t let you get hurt.” she playful taps your thigh with the back of her hand. your legs tingle all the way down to your toes and you feel heat rush to your face.

you feel stunned for a moment. that felt flirty. was it flirty? no i couldn’t have been.

“we should keep going.” you steer your horse away so she can’t see your reaction.

“okay.”

forest surrounds you, thick and unkept. it’s unlike the patrol routes your used to, it reminds you of your time with your parents on your journey to jackson.

“do you know what’s on this side of this bridge?” you’re in front of her but not really leading, just trying to put some space between the two of you. if she touched you again you think you might explode.

“not really, not this far south.” you hear her voice get closer and her horse speed up pace.

“okay, then let’s head back north.”

heading back north turned out to be easier said than done. the two of you make an attempt to follow the river but thick, overgrown bushes and vines stop you. so you walk into another into another town and discover why the first bridge was broken.

“does this feel off to you?” ellie asks.

“what do you mean?”

“i dunno like i just have a bad feeling.”

you shake your head. and you thought you were paranoid.

you’re heading toward’s the town’s main road, when you turn the corner onto the street you see it. infected bodies litter the street. it’s like a fucking bloodbath. they must have gotten into an altercation with an animal of some sort. from the tracks leading away from the town your bet is wolves.

“ellie…”

“hm?” she’s hasn’t yet made it to the turn yet.

when she rounds it all she can say is, “holy fuck.” she pulls out her hand gun from her holster and you mirror her.

she looks at you, “we need to get out here.”

before you can nod in agreement you hear the click, click, click followed by a screech behind you.

you shoot before you can think. you take the clicker down but as it falls screeches sound from the houses and stores.

“fuck.” is all you can say before ellie is yelling at you to run. once she sees you bolt past her she’s hot on your heels.

your horse must recognize the danger because she’s hauling ass like you’ve never seen before.

“where do we go?” you yell, you dare to glance behind you infected at all stages are right on your and ellie’s ass.

“i don’t know! i’m following you!” great, you think. joel was definitely going to kill you.

higher ground is all your can think. it’d wear the infected out to climb a mountain. it would wear your horse out too.

you make your way towards the ski resorts. as your horse gallops you here shots behind you, ellie must be firing blindly at the infected. a waste of bullets, you think.

by the time you make it to one of the cabins the horde has mostly subsided, killed from the run up the hill or distracted by other prey.

you find a lodge with a garage to store the horses in, while you work on getting the door open ellie picks off some of the more persistent infected that followed you.

“here! i got it.” you say and tuck your horse inside. ellie is just behind you and when she gets inside she slams the garage door down.

“we have terrible luck.” she laughs in disbelief. “two bad run ins in a day, that’s got to be like a record or something.”

you know she’s trying to lighten the mood but you can’t take it, “we should make sure this place is secure. the horde dissipated but infected will be all over the mountain and i’m almost out of ammo.”

she just looks at you for a moment before she checks her guns, “yeah, me too.”

you’re stuck here, you realize. alone, for god knows how long with ellie williams. ellie was right, you have terrible fucking luck.

the next half an hour is spent finding and securing all the possible exits of the home. the lodge was in almost perfect condition, it looked to be nearly untouched since the outbreak. you’re working on barricading the back door when ellie wanders in from the kitchen.

“check this out, they still have a shit ton of food from pre-outbreak.” she’s holding up cans in her hands.

“why haven’t we raided the cabins before?” you take one of the cans from her, ravioli.

she shrugs, “joel told me rich people would vacation here in the winter, i guess since the outbreak happened in september we figured they’d be empty?”

“that’s dumb. when we can get out of here we should bring a crew back, gather supplies.”

“mmm, always thinking.” she was definitely teasing you. but it didn’t feel mean, just point fun at you.

you scoff, “whatever,” you feel heat rush to her face and you don’t want her to see so you turn, “i’m going to see if there’s any firewood laying around.”

that evening for dinner you eat 25 year old canned ravioli. it’s actually not that bad and ellie told you that joel used to cook it for her all the time.

“it’s getting late, we should head to bed.” you gather blankets ellie found in one of the bedrooms and making a makeshift bed on the floor.

“you take the couch.” ellie juts her chin in the direction of the sofa.

you hesitate for a moment. today as been so fucking weird, you were attacked by infected and ellie was being kind to you.

“you sure? i-”

“i wouldn’t have offered if i didn’t mean it.”

“okay. thanks…thank you.”

you doze off, ellie on the floor, the fire keeping the two of you warm.

the next morning when you wake up ellie is using your binoculars to scope out the mountain.

“hey,” you say, sitting up, “how’s it lookin’?”

ellie jumps a bit, like she almost forgot you were there, she’s so cute, “uhm, better, i think that if you’re up for it we could make it back to jackson. the infected are pretty sparse so we’d just have to be careful to avoid them.”

“yeah, okay.” you’re nodding and getting off the couch. “i’ll go grab my pack.”

when you and ellie finish grabbing your things you head to the garage.

as she’s raising the door her shirt lifts to reveal some of her middle, before you can drool all over yourself you see the distinct indentions of a bite mark.

“oh my god.” you whisper.

“what? what’s wrong?” she turns around to face you.

“you…you’re- you got bit.” you point at her abdomen. she was bit. she was going to die and it was your fault. there was no saving her. it wasn’t a bullet wound or gash that could heal with time. ellie would turn and it was your fault.

“fuck.” she says more to herself than you, then, “hey, it’s okay.”

you feel like the breath was sucked from your lungs and you’re trying to blink away your tears before they fall. she was going to die. ellie was going to die.

she walks to you, until she’s in your space. her hands are firm on your biceps, she says your name. “listen. it’s going to be okay.”

“no, no you’re bit. you’re infected.” maybe it should scare you that she was touching you. if it was any other situation your belly would be doing flips but right now you just feel sick.

ellie squeezes her eyes close like she’s contemplating something then blurts out, “i’m immune, i’m not going to die.”

what?

she takes her hands off your shoulders and pulls the sleeve of her right arm up. was she seriously showing you her tatttoo right now?

“i got bit here, when i was fourteen. i never turned. i’ve breathed spores and never turned. i’m going to be okay.” she’s talking slowly, like she’s explaining something to a child.

your breathing is still raged, “what? what do you mean immune that’s impossible?” you shake your head.

“i don’t know i just am.” she’s quiet for a moment before she says, “you can’t tell anyone, though. joel, tommy, and maria are the only people that know. no one else knows.”

her eyes bore into your own, wide and mossy green. “i’m serious.”

you nod, “okay.”

what was happening? she’s immune, what does that even really, truly mean? how many bite marks does she have hidden beneath her clothes?

she steps back and laughs, “maybe i should have gotten bit in front of you sooner, you actually gave a shit about me just now.”

“what?”

“what d’you mean what? you’ve been pretending like i don’t exist basically since we found you.”

“that’s not true.” does she seriously not remember?

“yeah it is, you hang out with jesse and dina all the time and you don’t even acknowledge me when you see me in town.” her tone isn’t mean but it hurts. it hurts that she doesn’t remember.

“because you hate me.” you say, it’s quieter than you wanted. “i had a silly crush and it made you uncomfortable.”

“what?” she shakes her head.

you’re embarrassed to be admitting this out loud. “you obviously don’t like me, you sent your fucking girlfriend to essentially tell me to stop having a crush on you.”

“what?” she repeats, but it’s softer this time.

“you don’t remember? it was the spring after i came to jackson, at the bonfire? cat told me to leave you alone.” how could she have forgotten this? did it really mean that little to her?

“fucking cat.” she whispers under her breath, then, “i would never have told her to do that.”

“well you did, ellie. do you know how embarrassing that was? i’m brand new here and the cute girl’s girlfriend is telling me to fuck off because i’m acting creepy.” you cross your arms over your chest.

“no i didn’t. i had no idea she said anything. why would i ever do that?”

“i don’t know, ellie.” you say exasperated, “i’ve been trying to figure that out. but it made sense, i mean you have the perfect life out here. you’re well respected in town, you’re good at what you do, you have a friend group that adores you; you even managed to find a girlfriend that’s obsessed with you in the fucking apocalypse. and i come in and i ruin it. i’m quiet and i linger in the backgrounds of your hangouts. i’m the weird kid that liked you and you didn’t want me bothering you anymore.”

she’s quiet, her chest rising fast like it was the day you two met. this time though her eyes are flickering between your eyes and mouth.

before you can comprehend what she’s doing she’s grabbed your face and is kissing you. despite the intensity from the rest of her body, her lips are gentle against your own. your hands find her forearms and gently push her away.

you pull far enough away to see her face. you’re both panting like dogs. ellie’s eyes were wide like she herself was surprised she did that. you’re still deciding whether to ask her why the fuck she did that or kiss her back when you hear a voice.

some calls your name, and then “ellie?” and the two of you are breaking apart but not moving. still too stunned from what just happened.

dina.

you hear hooves pounding into the ground then dina getting off her horse. “are you two in there?”

she’s finishing lifting the half open garage door before she gets a response.

“oh my god. are you two okay?” she’s rushing over to you and taking your head in her hands like ellie did moments ago. she moves your head side to side, looking for damage. when she doesn’t find any she moves to ellie, repeating the motion.

“yeah, we’re fine, dee.” ellie gently pulls dina’s hand away from her face and looks at you. she swallows hard. how was she feeling right now? embarrassed? regretful? excited? you really needed to talk to her, alone.

another set of hooves and jesse is appearing. he joins the three of you in the garage.

“how’d you guys find us?” ellie looks to him.

“we saw the horde from the gates. they dissipated pretty fast and we saw the smoke from your fire this morning. we went out after you.” jesse says.

“we should get back to town and send out for joel, he went out last night looking for you and was up again this morning before any other patrollers could go out.” dina chimes in.

ellie nods, “yeah.”

“what the hell happened?” jesse is heading back towards his horse.

“we got stuck cutting across the river in a different spot than usual. we were thinking the infected took down the usual one and with our luck we ran into them on our way to the next checkpoint.” you needed to go home and take a bath. and think about anything but ellie. or maybe just about ellie.

the trek back to jackson is awkward, not the same cold awkwardness that you and ellie had shared on patrol. this was full of longing, you hoped jesse and dina couldn’t sense the change.

once the initial greetings subsided you led your horse back into the stables.

you were working on taking her saddle off when ellie walked to her stall, “that was crazy, huh?” you didn’t know if she was talking about the horde or confessing her immunity or your kiss.

“uhm, yeah.” you turn to face her, thankful for the stall door separate you.

“can we talk?” she rubs her tattooed hand on the back of her neck.

“i…i have to help maria set up for the dance tonight.” you look down at your boots and rub the toe of one into the ground.

“right. yeah.” she shakes her head, “i forgot that was tonight.”

“i’ll see you there?” you ask.

“yeah i’ll be there.”

TAGLIST @vahnilla @liztreez @yasmilks @cinnamqnbuns @hyperbabes @daughterofthemoons-stuff @leeidk87 @robinphobia @monki-nat @elliesfavwife @culuvr

[wyvernscales]

Augh OUGH. I’ve got an idea.

Maybe the Titan he’s connected to is the Titan that the Lyrium Dagger was formed from and it calls to him. And you could give him a lot of Harding’s storyline, which I personally felt was the most disconnected from the main plot outside of telling us about tne Titans. (And you wouldn’t run into the problem of losing the knowledge if Harding takes the shot)

Emmrich and Bellara work on the theory for it, but Sandal ultimately creates the replica dagger and rips open the Veil to pull Rook out of the prison. And they have to ask him to put some sort of rune on the replica to stop Solas from being able to do the same. We know he likes explosives.

And in a DLC/Epilogue or something, it’s about returning the dagger to the Titan and helping ease its pain. Depending on the ending, Solas can aid or ignore you.

Instead of the stone powers, Harding could get some kind of stealth ability. Like maybe she could sneak behind enemies to grab items they’re guarding. Considering the Absolution ending, I’m pretty sure they were going to bring Meredith back up again. Maybe Harding’s personal quest could be about tracking down the Crimson Knight, a figure they already established. Maybe she became flesh again when Solas took the red lyrium idol, and goes north to enact her vengeance as a rogue agent. She would ba opposed to both the Antaam and the Venatori, and maybe there’s a moment where the team considers recruiting her until they learn who she really is.

Might be awkward to make this work with the Varric Situation, but I’ve already made a post about how the Varric Situation would have worked better if a spirit became him (like the Divine in the Fade) and everyone thought he was alive, and Solas manages to figure it out before everyone else, so he still gets his ruveal moment.

And I do think they should’ve brought Sandal back in Veilguard, because if he made the trick lyrium dagger, handed it over, and said “Enchantment!” I wouldn’t even bat an eye or consider it a deus ex machina moment. Like yeah of course he could make a perfect copy, and it would be so similar that it could trick Solas. It’s Sandal.

The plot hole would be that his copy would absolutely be capable of rending the Veil.

[cheftsunoda]

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

hamilton reader x max verstappen

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

fc: tyla ! 🌸

(sza will be used as ayana’s best friend so when i say solana— our queen miss sza)

thank you to @babygirl-4986 for the idea for this series and i am so excited to write for you guys :)

—

vegas grand prix 2024

mercedes 1-2– as a little sister I am beaming with excitement for lewis but a part of me is wondering where max is after getting p5. i knew how hard he could be on himself sometimes. he was still leading the championship but it seemed as if that wasn’t enough sometimes. i stood in the crowd next to my best friend, solana, she was the only one who knew about max and i, she had been with me through everything. i have actually been trying to set her up with lewis for the longest time— they are both oblivious to my actions but maybe one day it would work. i took out my phone to start recording as george walked out first, i began cheering for him and waved to him— he smiled down and waved back. lewis came out next with a proud smile on his face and I cheered extra loud and solana blew him a kiss in which he returned and he waved at me. the british national anthem began and before you knew it there was champagne all over the place. i grabbed solana’s hand and we made our way through the huge crowd, stopping to take some photos with fans. as we made it through the crowd, i reached for my phone to text max.

how are you doing my love? where are uuu?

I slipped my phone into my back pocket as Lewis approached us. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him and he gave me a squeeze. He pressed a gentle kiss on my temple.

“I’m so proud of you, Lew. Always. You did amazing out there.” I said and he let go of me with a smile.

“I always do better when my wonderful sister is here to cheer me on..and her beautiful best friend.” He states and turned to Solana pulling her into a big hug, a light blush settling on her face.

“And what are you lovely ladies up to for the rest of the night?” Lewis asked and Solana shrugs my way.

“Honestly, not sure.” She said and Lewis smiled.

“How about some drinks?” He asked as I reached for my phone.

doing ok, schat. would be better if I could see that beautiful face.

“You guys go, have fun. I’ll catch up later, I just have some business to handle.” I said with a smile and Solana gave me a knowing look.

“Alright, see you later, be safe please.” Lewis said with a quick side hug.

“Of course, love you guys.” I said and sent them both a smile.

meet me in the lot in five angel

on my way pretty girl

I started walking to his car rather quickly, thankfully fans could not get in this area so we were able to be alone for a moment. I leaned against the sleek black SUV, the cool desert night brushing against my skin. I spotted Max a few feet away, dressed down in a black hoodie and some jeans. He approached me with a small smile, wrapping his arms around my waist, mine reaching around his neck.

“I swear every time I see you all my problems just fade, schat. Your beauty makes me forget everything.” He hummed with a love drunk smile upon his face.

“I feel the same way about you, my love.” I say pulling him into a soft kiss that lasted for a few moments.

“Marry me.” He murmured. I pulled back, stunned, slightly in shock.

“What did you say? Max are you drunk?” I ask and he chuckled slightly.

“No, Liefde. Let’s get married, right here, right now.” He stated again and I smiled at him.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Did you hit your head getting out of the car?” I ask and he takes my hand.

“Mooi meisje, just listen to me. You are the one for me, I have known that since you walked into my life. Everyday I look forward to getting up to be with you and spend the day with you. Normally with a P5 result, I’d be sitting, sulking and thinking about what I could have done better but today I didn’t care— I don’t need to race— I don’t need the championships but I do need you— you’re the love of my life, yana.” He stated and I feel tears start to well in my eyes.

“Max, I-I love you so much. I need you.” I said wrapping my arms around him extra tight, I feel him squeeze my waist.

“So marry me, Yana. You’ll have me forever.” He whispered.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I said with a huge smile and Max lifted me up in the air. He pressed the biggest kiss to my lips. He pulled a small red box out of his sweatshirt and popped it open. I gasped slightly at the beautiful ring and he took the ring out gently and reached for my hand. He left a kiss across my knuckles and gently slid the ring onto my finger. It was absolutely stunning— everything I could’ve wanted in a ring.

“I know this isn’t the most ideal place for this but I could marry you while standing inside of a dumpster and I would still be overjoyed and we can always have a ceremony later-“ I interrupted his rambling by placing my hand on his cheek.

“Max— this is perfect. I don’t care how it happens as long as I get to spend forever with you.” I said and he smiled.

“Now let’s go get married, champion.” I teased and he hurriedly opened the car door for me and rushed to the drivers side.

—

I had changed into one of Max’s hoodies and put on a hat and some larger frame sunglasses. Everyone in the city is either drunk or too distracted from the race but it’s best to be safe. Max had pulled his hoodie over his head and also threw some sunglasses on. He held my hand and looked over at me.

“You really sure about this, Verstappen?” I teased lightly biting my lip.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything, schat.” He said rubbing my knuckles.

“Let’s go then.” I said and hopped out of the car. He came around and wrapped his arm around my waist as we made it inside the chapel. The neon lights flickering above us. It smelled faintly of roses and old wood. The lady at the desk shot us a quick smile.

“Here to get hitched, lovebirds?” She asked as she stood. We stared at each other for a second before nodding.

“Come with me.” She states and led us into the actual chapel. There was a man stood at the end of the short aisle who gave us a sweet smile.

“Mind if we trade your hat out for this?” The lady asked and offered me a veil, I look towards max and he nodded with a smile.

“I think we can do that.” I said and took off my hat and she helped fit the veil into my hair. Max smiled at me and took my hands into his.

“I suppose we are ready now.” The officiant said with a big smile.

“Names?” He asked.

“Ayana Hamilton.” I said and he nodded looking towards Max.

“Max. Max Verstappen.” He nodded and smiled to himself.

“Do you, Ayana Hamilton, take Max Verstappen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He asked and I nodded.

“I do.”

“And do you, Max Verstappen, take Ayana Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He asked.

His eyes never left mine. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me, in the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you both husband and wife. Max, you may kiss your bride.” He said with a smile and Max grabbed my waist and pulled me into a long passionate kiss. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t hungry, it was soft and sweet.

We stumbled out of the chapel laughing, my hand wrapped tight in his. The Vegas Strip roared around us, but in that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent.

“You realize Lewis is going to kill me when he finds out, right?” Max said, chuckling as he pulled me into his arms.

I grinned, resting my forehead against his chest. “Maybe. But you’ll survive. You’re a world champion, remember?”

He tilted my chin up, kissing me again like he had something to prove. “Now I’m the champion of something even better.”

—

present day / max and ayana’s apartment

The late afternoon sun poured through the windows of our Monaco apartment, casting a warm, golden glow over the hardwood floors. I sat cross-legged on the bed, half-folded clothes scattered around me in a chaotic mess. Max leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re packing like we’re moving across the world, not like you’re just spending four days with Lewis,” he teased, nodding toward the three overstuffed suitcases.

I tossed a hoodie at him. “It’s not just four days. It’s Lewis. You know how he is — there will be fancy dinners, training sessions, impromptu yacht trips. I have to be prepared for anything.”

Max caught the hoodie with one hand, laughing. He crossed the room in a few steps and sat down beside me, plucking a pair of sunglasses from my pile and perching them on my head. “You’re gonna miss me,” he said, mock-sulking.

I looked at him over the rim of the sunglasses. “Of course I’m gonna miss you,” I said, pushing them up into my hair. “Who else is going to steal my snacks and hog the blanket at 3 AM?”

He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. “You know you could just stay,” he murmured, teasing but a little serious too.

I leaned into his touch for a second, then grinned. “If I cancel on Lewis now, he’ll definitely figure out we’ve been married for a year and didn’t tell him.”

Max groaned dramatically, flopping backward onto the bed. “Still can’t believe we’ve kept it a secret this long. You’re a terrible liar, Ayana.”

“And yet, here we are,” I said proudly, zipping one of the suitcases shut.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging me down onto the bed beside him. I landed with a soft laugh, my hair spilling across his chest. He looked down at me, blue eyes soft, thumb tracing lazy circles over the back of my hand.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he said quietly. “For everything — the tour, the music, surviving this crazy world… and for still picking me.”

My chest squeezed a little at the tenderness in his voice. “Always you, Max.”

—

After I finally managed to wrestle the last suitcase shut, Max stood and stretched, looking all too innocent. Too casual.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said, way too quickly.

Suspicious.

But I let it go. For now. I tugged my duffel bag onto the bed, double-checking I had my headphones, my laptop, my chargers — the essentials. Max wandered over, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Promise you’ll call me every night?” he said, voice dropping to that soft, boyish tone he only ever used with me.

I smiled, resting my hands on his. “You act like I’m going away for a year, not four days.”

“Still too long,” he mumbled.

I twisted around and kissed him quickly. “I’ll call. Pinky swear.”

He grinned against my mouth, stealing one more kiss before finally letting me go. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, tossing a “Love you!” over my shoulder.

Max winked. “Love you more.”

—

later that night

Lewis, Solana and I had just arrived at the Beach House. I was always insistent on unpacking as soon as we get to the destination. No— before you ask; I am not sure if Solana and Lewis are together. I invited her on this quick trip and Lewis is always willing to have her.

I was digging through my duffel bag, looking for my spare phone charger when my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Frowning, I pulled it out — a small, folded piece of paper with Max’s handwriting scribbled across it.

“For when you miss me too much.”

Taped to it was one of his racing gloves — the very one he wore during the Vegas GP last year, the night we got married.

My throat tightened, emotions bubbling up too fast. Inside the note, he’d written:

“You’re my best win. Always have been, always will be. Come home soon, Mrs. Verstappen.”

I clutched the glove to my chest, a wide, stupid grin breaking across my face.

“Yana-“ Lewis said as he entered the room and I quickly tucked the glove in my suitcase.

“What’s up?” I turned around with a smile.

He gave me a confused but big smile.

“They have dinner prepared for us on the beach, whenever you’re ready.” He said and I nodded.

“I’m just going to get changed and I’ll be out.” I said and he nodded.

“Thank you, Lew. For the trip.” I said and he reached out for a hug.

“Of course, no one else I’d rather have with me.” He said and left the room.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.

got your surprise, mr verstappen. you made me cry. i miss you and love you so much.

you’ll be back in no time, my beautiful wife. enjoy your time with your brother. call me when you can, schat. i love you even more

I smiled and plugged my phone in. I quickly changed into a sundress and slipped on some sandals. I added a few pieces of jewelry and left the room. Lewis was standing behind the counter in the kitchen as Solana stood across the counter from him as she was showing him tik toks— he finally got the app he just doesn’t understand the humor yet.

“Showing Gramps how to use Tik Tok?” I questioned with a smirk and they both smiled at me.

“Mmm girl you look so good..” Solana reached out her hand and spun me around.

“So do you, my love.” I said and she smiled.

“Well beautiful ladies, shall we?” Lewis asked motioning towards the beach.

“We shall.” Solana said and we all started walking towards the beach.

—

next day

I was sat out on the balcony, having my morning call with Max.

“How are Jimmy and Sassy?” I ask and he smiles before pointing the camera at the two cats who are snuggled together.

“Precious babies.” I murmured with a smile.

“They get it from their mother.” Max said and I chucked.

“Unfortunately I do have a meeting and some training to do so I have to go but enjoy your day and I will talk to you tonight, okay? I love you so much.” Max said and I smiled giving him a small wave.

“Love you more.” I said ending the FaceTime.

“Good morning, Mrs. Verstappen.” Solana joked as she pulled open the sliding door and handed me a juice.

“Not too loud now.” I said and chuckled.

“You both are so cute it makes me sick.” She said taking a seat next to me.

“I appreciate it and I appreciate you helping to keep it on the low. You are like one of the only people I can trust.” I state leaning into her shoulder. She leaned her head on top of mine.

“I always got you, boo. Forever.” She says with a smile.

—

The sun was sinking low over the water, casting a soft orange glow across the beach. I lay sprawled out on a lounge chair, toes buried in the warm sand, a half-finished book resting on my chest. Roscoe was asleep in the sand beside me, head resting on my leg

Lewis plopped down beside me with his usual lack of grace, sending a small spray of sand and water onto my towel.

“Nice, Lew,” I said, brushing it off and giving him a look.

He grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “You needed a little excitement. You’ve been way too chill lately.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Maybe I’m finally learning to relax.”

“Doubt it,” he teased, stretching out beside me. “But hey, you have been different lately. Happier. Calmer. It’s good.”

I glanced at him over my sunglasses. “You saying I was a nightmare before?”

He laughed, tossing a grape up into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Not a nightmare. Just…intense. Always working, always moving. It’s nice to see you actually taking time for yourself.”

I tucked my arms behind my head, feeling the warm breeze drift over us. Lewis had a point — for once. Things with Max had changed me in ways I hadn’t even realized until now. But Lewis, blissfully unaware, just thought I was finally taking better care of myself.

“Guess I just figured out what matters,” I said lightly, smiling at the horizon.

Lewis nodded, not prying for once. “Whatever it is, keep it up. You deserve to be happy, Yana.”

He nudged my foot with his. “Also, when are you dropping that new album? You’ve been teasing it for months.”

I laughed. “Soon. You’ll get the first copy. I might even sign it for you, if you’re lucky.”

He gave me a dramatic bow from his lounge chair. “An honor, Miss Hamilton.”

We both cracked up, the easy, familiar laughter filling the air like it always had when we were kids. No pressure. No cameras. Just a brother and a sister, a beach, and the feeling that everything — at least for today — was exactly how it was supposed to be.

—

tonight was a big reason we are on this trip— Lewis, Solana and I were going to make a few drinks at a local bar in the middle of the city to promote his new non alcoholic tequila brand.

The tiny bar was packed, the air buzzing with laughter, music, and the clink of glasses. Fairy lights strung up across the ceiling gave the whole place a warm, golden glow. Somewhere in the back, a DJ was spinning laid-back tracks, and every table was decorated with little cards featuring Almave — Lewis’ new tequila brand.

“Alright, team,” Lewis said, clapping his hands behind the bar like we were about to run a full Michelin-star service. “We’ve got three goals tonight: pour good drinks, have fun, and make my tequila look like the greatest thing to ever happen to planet Earth.”

I laughed, tying an apron around my waist. “You’re lucky Sol and I love you, because this is not what I thought I’d be doing on vacation.”

Solana leaned over the bar with a wink. “Girl, we are the party. Plus, free drinks.”

Lewis threw an arm around each of us, grinning wide. “Exactly. The dream team.”

We got to work, pouring shots, shaking cocktails, and posing for selfies with fans who couldn’t believe Lewis Hamilton, Ayana and SZA were bartending in a random coastal bar. Every so often, Lewis would dramatically present a bottle of his tequila with both hands like it was a sacred relic.

“Only the finest!” he announced to a group of guys at the bar, pouring them shots with a flourish.

Meanwhile, Solana mixed up a custom cocktail she invented on the spot — something fruity and spicy — and by the second round, she had people lining up to try it.

I handled the crowd like a pro, sliding drinks down the bar, laughing when one almost toppled off the edge. “First one’s free if you can catch it!” I called, making the bar explode in cheers.

Every few minutes, Lewis would bump his shoulder into mine, and Sol would lean over to crack a joke, and it felt… normal. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just us, doing something wild and silly because we could.

At one point, Lewis grabbed the mic by the DJ booth. “Big thanks to everyone for coming out tonight! And remember,” he said, holding up a glass, “life’s too short to drink bad tequila. Cheers!”

The whole bar roared back in a toast, and we clinked glasses behind the counter, grinning like idiots.

Later, as the crowd started to thin and the neon signs flickered a little softer, Solana leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed happily.

“Tell me why this is one of the best nights I’ve had in forever,” she said.

I smiled, wiping down the bar. “Because it’s not about the tequila. It’s about us.”

Lewis slung an arm around both of us again, his face flushed from laughing so much. “Nah, it’s definitely the tequila,” he said with a wink.

And for the first time in a long while, I realized just how lucky we were — messy, chaotic, ridiculous — but lucky all the same.

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

25,368 likes

f1gossipgirls : Lewis Hamilton, Ayana Hamilton and SZA all spotted bartending at a small bar in Riviera Maya, Mexico to promote his new tequila brand— Almave!

—

username : omg all my faves

username2 : love them so much— having fomo rn

username5 : the Hamilton genes are so strong

username7 : they are so beautiful fr

username9 : sza is toooo

username7 : true true

username8 : my brother met them last night and said they are all so sweet— he said Ayana gave him like 5 free drinks for him and his friends lmao😭

liked by author

username10 : omg so jealous

usernameee : just a question but why is sza with them??

f1gossipgirls : she has been a good friend of ayana for years and her and lewis have been linked multiple times

—

texts !

saw some videos of you bartending

you are so hot

come home now please

be home tomorrow pretty boy

don’t get too excited without me

—

ayanaaa

riviera maya, mexico 📍

liked by sza, lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari & 4,357,975 others.

ayanaaa : thankful for lew, sol, roscoe, mexico and almave

tagged : lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, sza, almave

—

roscoelovescoco : loves yous aunt yayas!!

liked by author

ayanaaa: love my roscoe<3

username : lewis calling her aunt yaya is so cute

sza : the best time with my best fransssss🌎🍃🌱🌊💙

liked by author

ayanaaa : love ya my sollll

lewishamilton : so glad you came — love you sis ❤️

liked by author

ayanaaa : love you more

scuderiaferrari : our faves 😻😻

liked by author

ayanaaa : ferrariiii my love — season passes for Miss Solana?

scuderiaferrari: absolutely! you are both welcome always 💋

liked by author and sza

carmenmmundt : you are so beautiful ayana. i miss you so much!

liked by author

ayanaaa : miss you more carms

alexandrasaintmleux: 😻😻😻😻

liked by author

—

The front door clicked softly behind me as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of cedarwood and fresh linen wrapping around me like a hug. My suitcase thudded quietly on the floor, but before I could even call out, I heard footsteps — quick, eager — from the hallway.

Max appeared, barefoot and in sweatpants, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed even though it was early evening. His whole face lit up the second he saw me, and the ache of missing him hit me all at once.

“You’re home,” he said, voice low and full of relief.

I barely had time to nod before he crossed the room in three quick strides, sweeping me into his arms. I dropped my bag and wrapped myself around him, breathing him in — the faint scent of his cologne, the comfort of home.

“I missed you,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes so soft it made my chest tighten. “You have no idea how much.”

He kissed me — slow, lingering, like he was making up for every second we’d been apart. I melted into him, smiling against his mouth.

When we finally broke apart, he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “No more trips without me.”

I laughed, trailing my fingers lightly over his jaw. “Tell that to my brother next time he drags me on a ‘bonding adventure.’”

Max chuckled, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “Deal. Next time, I’ll just come with you. Hide in your suitcase if I have to.”

He reached for my duffel, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder with one hand and threading our fingers together with the other.

“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the living room. “I made your favorite — pizza and that terrible show you love.”

“My terrible show is a masterpiece,” I corrected with a grin.

“Right, right,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Masterpiece.”

We curled up together on the couch, my legs thrown over his lap, his arm tucked firmly around my waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. The TV played in the background, but all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek.

—

p1 of this series complete! let me know what yall think and any suggestions for the next part and as always requests are always open! 💋

[lunawagner]

Phone Calls of LADS Characters

*some parts are changed, based on the real calls I or my coworkers made in the call center, I wanted to share the ones that reminded me of them *

Luke & Kieran

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx.

Luke: The boss isn't here. Can't help you

Operator: Then, when will they be back? Can we call again later?

Luke: He's dead. They shot him finally. Good riddance.

Operator:...Excuse me?

Luke: Yeah. Gunned down. Six feet under. Don’t call again—he won’t be picking up. Guy was a scammer anyway. Serves right to that scum. You can remove everything related to him

Operator: I see..?

Operator note: User has a terrible sense of humor... probably

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

Kieran: The boss isn't here. I can't help you

Operator: (already got a bad feeling) Do you know when he'll be back? Should we call back later?

Kieran: He went to Bulgaria to shoot a man. Poor guy scammed the wrong person. Our boss will hunt him down.

Operator: Uh… will he be back this week?

Kieran: Nope, it might take more than a week, you know, to clean things.

Operator:...Right

Operator note: User said the manager is on a business trip.

Sylus

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

Sylus: Calling from where?

Operator: Xxx

Sylus: Say it again

Operator: ...XXX

Sylus: Miss, all I hear is meow meows, you're talking like a kitten.

Operator(offended and about to go apeshit): I'm sorry please let me repeat it, I hope you can hear this time: WE ARE CALLING FROM XXX

Sylus: Ohh, you're calling from Xxx.

Sylus: Unfortunately, I'm not interested in your services. Maybe next time.

*headache intensifies*

Xavier

Xavier(with a sleepy voice): Hello.

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

Xavier: Are you calling from *famous food chain*?

Operator: No, we're calling from Xxx.

Xavier: Oh, sorry, I'm a bit sleepy, you said *famous food chain*, right?

Operator: No, we're just calling from Xxx to verify your address info

Xavier(mutters under his breath): Didn't I already write it while placing the order?

Xavier: It is *address info*

Operator: ....(hesitates, checks notes, convinces herself she informed him as it should be)

Operator: Thank you for your time. Have a good one.

Rafayel 1

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

Rafayel: Oh my God, I was just about to call you if you didn’t call me first.

Operator: Is there a problem?

Rafayel: Yes, there’s a big problem. I’m a famous artist, if I may say so myself. I’ve been doing this for years, and everyone knows the quality of my work and the care I put into it. However, on your platform, my rating is 4.6 out of 5, and there are no comments or explanations for that. Unbelievable! I came to know about it thanks to one of my clients, and I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw it. On other platforms, I have 5 out of 5, it has never been lower. Seeing that 4.6, I was so upset and shocked that it took me days to recover...

Operator: .... (isn't 4.6 actually pretty good?)

Operator: You're right, it must have been really shocking. I will inform the relevant teams about your request. If there is a mistake, I'm sure they will deal with it accordingly

Rafayel: Thank you, thank you, please tell them dear. My reputation is on the line here. Honestly, I’m so affected by this, I can’t even bring myself to open your page without shaking. I don’t want to see anything related to Xxx until this is fully resolved

Rafayel 2

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

Rafayel: ....

Operator: Can you hear me?

Rafayel: I beg you...

Operator: Pardon..?

Rafayel: I beg you as a fellow human being, please don't call me. Every time I hear the phone ringing, I get really excited and rush to answer it, all happy with butterflies in my stomach. But then it's always you sellers or advertisers.

Rafayel: You're making me want to cry. You're toying with my feelings and hopes, making my life miserable. I can't take it anymore. I DON'T WANT YOUR CALLS

Operator: ...I'm sorry

Caleb ft. MC

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx

MC: Hi, how can I help you?

Operator: We're updating our database. Can I ask you a few questions about your business?

MC: Of course!

The woman sweetly answers the questions, then a man's voice interrupts

Caleb: Who is calling?

MC: They are calling from Xxx for update.

Caleb: Close the phone. They are scammers.

MC: But they didn't sound like one. Also, it's free.

Caleb: Okay, I'll deal with it. (takes the phone)

Caleb(scary voice): What do you want?

Operator:........((⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)give back my cute lady!!!)

Zayne

Operator: Hi, we're calling from Xxx. We realized that some of your branches lack important details. Could you help us?

Zayne: I apologize beforehand but how can I be sure that you're really calling from Xxx

Operator: We can't provide you with any concrete evidence on the phone, but we don't demand any private info that can harm you or your business. Also, you don't need to pay for anything. You can reach the customer support via the official website to verify our call later.

Zayne: Thank you for your explanation. Which of our branches do you want to learn about?

Operator: (looks at the screen to see 10 of them listed, screams internally )

-45 minutes later-

Zayne(smiles): Is it all?

Operator: Yes...(cries silently because nobody has been this patient with her through all of her life, and this operations manager continued to help her kindly even though it passed their lunch break)