#Slow Burn Fic

[goldsbitch]

That one night stranded

There is good sex...and then there is good sex. And when you know and love someone, it's very easy to tell when they fall into an anxiety trap and try to fuck it out.

Lando is determined to have good sex only for the rest of his life.

Or - Lando and Y/N get stranded in between flights. accidental 7k epilogue p.2 to That one Christmas flight, but can be read as a stand-alone

warning: angst, shit family, smut, p in v, oral, minors DNI, typos, couple therapists - please leave, i'm not ready for your judgement

//

There were two very different text message chains happening in the hotel lobby, where the young couple stood, waiting for the receptionist who was coding they key card.

Lando's phone was bursting up with family photos, taken the day before. Lots of smiley faces, tables overflowing with food and pictures blurred up, because the person taking the photo was most likely laughing too hard to stay still. And even better - most of the messages were words of praise his family had for his no-so-new girlfriend. He knew well enough his family was proud of him nevertheless. Somehow, bringing home someone who fit in right easily, laughed at the same jokes and earned a sincere approval, filled up a hole he had no idea was present in his heart.

This one night they'd "earned" by the delayed flight felt like a reward. They'd done great together. Alone time was a rare luxury, especially when it was unexpected and not planned out for weeks. He glanced over to her, glued to her phone in a similar way that he was. Only difference being the furrowed brows.

The other text chain was Y/N and her mother. Right when the reality sank in - the fact that no plane would be able to fly to Japan with these weather conditions - her heart did too. She'd somehow hoped it would be different. That her mother would save the snarky comments. Yet she found a way to make this all seem like Y/N's fault.

You should have taken an earlier flight.

She knew it was irrational. But yes, if they had opted for the earlier flight, they'd be in the air by now. Funny, how only parents know the exact formula to make one’s brain switch off the rational part. It was the hidden undertone in the text messages. Her mom would usually save those for phone calls. The last thing Y/N wanted to do at the moment. You're too reckless. Not organized enough. Being late is your fault. Bad planning. Do you even care about seeing me? I took a day off from work to spend time with you. Are you sure about bringing the racer boy over here?

Guilt filled up her stomach and her eyes were glued to the phone, hoping for more letters to appear. Something along the lines like "have a safe flight". Or "I'm looking forward to finally meeting Lando". Words she knew would never appear. She felt her boyfriend's arm embrace her as he exchanged few final words with the receptionist. The specific info got lost on her, but the tone spoke on it's own. Even a stranger could pick up on his unmasked joy and comfort. He didn't mind they were stranded for few hours. She wished for that kind of peace of mind. His family had been incredibly lovely to her. Accepted her the way she was and gave her enough space to express herself. She was ready for "double checking" or some sort of acceptance tests. Expected to have to prove herself to them more. None of that came. Part of her was secretly infuriated by that. There was no way in hell Lando would get the same treatment. Y/N wished she could provide that comfort for him too. It resembled the same feeling she had when he came to her apartment for the first time and she forgot to put away all the mugs overflowing the nightstand. Like something that was her responsibility to fix, clean up before he even knew this was a thing.

"Look at me, honey," he said in the elevator, his finger pulling her chin up. His eyes scanned her with a look she grew to love. Pure, unfiltered adoration. "Feels like we got gifted a night only for ourselves. I can't think of anything better to receive." She smiled as best as she could, trying to get on his level of ease. But one thought sat in her brain, unwilling to make space for anything else. Today's bliss for tomorrow's misery.

"You're right, as always," she replied, trying to convince herself maybe more than him. The kiss she gave him afterwards was to divert his attention from looking at her, because she knew from experience, he'd soon see right through her.

"Have you texted your mom that we'll be late?" he asked, unaware of her bubbling anxiety.

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbled, trying to dismiss the situation.

//

Who cares that mom thinks he's just a reckless celebrity. Would an immature asshole who "can't possibly care about me in the longterm" be say things like that? It was pure fire running through her veins. Maybe it really was a gift, these few hours they got extra. The reality was that even if they'd arrived on time, fresh and dressed up as a cookie cutter loved up couple, her mom would still find something wrong to drill about later. Screw that. Last few moments of solitude.

She was standing in a hotel room bathroom, looking into the mirror, trying to calm herself down.

This worked perfectly into Lando's favor, him still being completely high on the good Christmas vibes. The minute she excused herself, he got on the phone with the hotel concierge and offered to throw any amount of money at them if they'd manage to follow up on his impromptu request. By some miracle, the trail with cold champagne, strawberries and few roses arrived before she returned from the bathroom. When his lovely girlfriend entered the room again, he greeted her with a dramatic spin, rose in one, a tall glass in the other hand. His interpretation of an angelic smile plastered on his face. The plan of catching her off guard worked. She stood there for a moment, taking the scenery in.

"Lando..." she said, speechless enough to muster anything more.

He winked at her and stepped closer. "It is technically our anniversary..." he said, like an open invitation.

Y/N stared at the loved up guy standing in front of her. Mother's voice still ringing in her head. All composure she managed to gain by staring at herself in the mirror gone in a second. How can anyone, ever and anywhere think that Lando, her Lando, is anything but a perfect boyfriend. How can her mother feed her with words like reckless, immature, wild and careless...without ever even meeting him in person. Her phone dinged with the sound a text message and she just knew it was her mom again. She didn't even bother looking at the notification.

"You're perfect, you know that?" she blurbed slowly. Once again, as if more to herself than to him.

His smile grew wider. "I try my best," he noted with a tone that could only be described as playful.

"Many people forget anniversaries..."

"To be fair, it is easier if it's pinned to annoyingly recognized holiday..." he joked and handed her the glass. "Do not ask me when we actually got together, because I don't think there is enough champagne around here for me to apologize for not knowing that date."

She smirked and accepted the glass.

"You did kind of just admit that yourself, you know..."

"I know, but, you didn't ask, so it doesn't count."

He knew her well enough to know that she was about to ask exactly that just to tease him, so interrupted her before she had a chance to even breathe in.

"Toast! To us! To the best outcome a desperate secret meeting at Honda could ever have!"

Giving up on teasing him, she clinked her glass with his. "To the Christmas champagne tradition."

He leaned in and kissed her before tasting the champagne. If it weren't for the symbolic gesture, he'd order anything else. Champagne had a weird undertone of podiums and that was something he hated to get reminded of during off season. But that was not something he needed to tell her.

She gulped the whole glass, happy have something to take the edge off.

"How bizarre, we managed to make it here," she remarked, courage building up.

"Wouldn't have it any other way, honey."

That's it. He was being the ultimate boyfriend, while she was there, barely participating. No more of that. She grabbed the glass from his hands and downed the liquid he barely touched anyway. Surprised Lando only raised his eyebrows and watched her put both of their glasses away.

"Bed. Now," she ordered him, changing the tone of the conversation.

Fascination overruled Lando's facial expression and he obeyed, without a single word. Usually, he was the more dominant one in their sex life. He couldn't help himself, forever horny teenager. But, sometimes, out of nowhere, she whipped up her bossy side. He often fantasized about that when he was alone, racing around the world.

She waited for him to absentmindedly kick his shoes to the corner only to sit at the edge of the bed. Shook her head and nodded toward the pillow. He obeyed and pushed himself further to the back. His eyes were literally inviting her, encouraging her to continue.

With full determination, she took her shirt off, following by swiftly removing her bra. Then she climbed over to him, never breaking eye contact.

Lando wanted to say something, anything, but he was worried that would somehow break the spell. He followed her every move, tuning in. They had spent few days in the family circus and they were about to enter another one. It's been the longest they'd gotten without sex while being in the same timezone. Even though he was not demanding or expecting anything, he was craving it like a starved man.

She wanted to feel hot. Determined to prove that she is a good girlfriend. Swung her leg over his, practically sitting on him. Their lips crashed together in a messy kiss, tongues fighting for dominance. Lando sighed when she parted them. But she was on a mission now. Knowing well enough Lando was a boobs man, she pulled his face towards her nipple and he didn't think twice about what to do next. She watched him suck and pure physical relief washed over her. All will be well soon.

She grabbed him over his jeans, pleased to find that he was already getting hard. Abandoning the kiss, she moved over to gain access to his crotch. Locked eyes with him while opening his zipper, almost violently.

"Take this off," she ordered and boy, did he do as he was told.

The air was heavy with anticipation on both parties.

With thick determination, she knelt over and took him into her mouth. He grew in her instantly, reaching full erection almost immediately.

Wasting no time, she started to move, up and down and suck him off. One hand called over to help at the bottom of his shaft, the other used as a support for her to lean on. She quickly got lost in the rhythm and continued, almost like someone dead set on completing a task. She had to prove herself. He was a great boyfriend and she needed to be the best girl he had. Because tomorrow, only ugly judgemental looks from her mother would await. No warm family welcome, this bliss they lived in for the past few days would be long gone. She could almost see it already happening, Lando desperately trying to impress her mother and her just dismissing him, because she had already made up her mind about him.

But he was perfect and Y/N was head-over-heels in love. With her eyes closed, she kept on moving, barely reaching for breath, ignoring the growing pain in her back, because the pit of despair growing in her stomach was louder anyway. It was all worth it for making her lover happy. Because who knows how it will all look tomorrow. If she could back down from the trip, she would. Her mom does not deserve to criticize someone so perfect like Lando.

Out of nowhere, felt his hand reaching over to her shoulder, somewhat bringing her back to Earth.

"Y/N," he moaned, with an unusual undertone. She took it as a sign to speed up her movements.

"Stop," he continued instantly. She froze, not quite sure what had happened.

"Ok, ugh," he pulled away unwillingly. "I can't believe I'm about to interrupt...Whatever amazing thing is happening right now."

She swallowed her own saliva. Got up a bit, slightly mortified. Why did he stop her. What has she done wrong? He never complained before? That's it - this connected with the treatment her mother had prepared instead of Christmas dinner would be the final straw ending their lovey-dovey period. Her thoughts were tripping one over another, making up an incoherent mess.

Once again, he pulled up his finger and arched her chin up.

"Is everything alright?"

Silence followed. He gave her a questioning, puzzled look.

"I thought you liked my blow jobs," she said with a stern look stripped of any emotion.

"Believe me, I do," he said with a heavy sigh. He couldn't believe himself, never expected himself to pause a perfect blow. "But something feels off about you."

She failed. She failed at going with Lando's flow and ruined what was suppose to be a nice romantic holiday evening. Giving up, she threw herself on her back, lying 90 degrees next to him, eyes glued to the ceiling. If they hadn't been so comfortable with each other, she'd feel very small, lying there like that, him with his dick out and her topless.

Lando had hoped his intuition was wrong. But sadly, he recognized the signs correctly. Without knowing this emotion had pained her ever since the plane got delayed, he felt his own anxiety pile up. Only years of mental preparation for his overly demanding job had helped him to avoid jumping into conclusions too quickly. Even though, deep down, he was terrified that her sudden mood change was due to the fact she didn't love him anymore. It was always the first thing he thought about, no matter how much he tried to work on it. But - years of mental training - he was going to cash that in.

He watched her, hoping she'd look back at him. When she didn't, he reached his fingertips towards hers. Her own hand responded instantly and their fingers tangled together.

"What happened...Did I do something wrong?" he opened with, reaching for any clues.

She kept her stare up the ceiling and chuckled. How cute it was, finding him so unaware.

"No. Lando, you're amazing. Annoyingly so, lately."

He took that as an invitation and shifted his body over so that they shared the same angle and joined her at the "staring at the ceiling" activity.

"I hope that is not the problem - I have hard time not being like that," he joked, hoping it would diffuse the tension a bit. The Lando she met a year ago would probably run away in a situation like this. Or maybe even ignored the obvious distress of his sex partner and let he blow him to his release. But not the Lando of today.

Her lips curled into a small smile.

"Oh, if only all of us were like you," she couldn't help but comment sarcastically.

"You know that you're more than perfect to me, right?" There was no lightness to be detected in his tone. She shifted, a wave of uncomfortableness washing her over.

I may be, but not my family.

"Yes, but I need you to know...I need you to understand, that I truly love you and I am totally mesmerized by you. To me, you are perfect. Even when you irritate me to heavens," she admited, making sure to highlight the words of praise. Scared that if she didn't build enough foundation today, there will be nothing to stand on once the challenge comes tomorrow. She'd tried to warm him about the meeting, but it always seemed to go through his ears.

It was like she was speaking in riddles. "Why do you need me to understand that now?" he asked, eyes now fully glued at his girlfriend, searching for some clues.

She felt his eyes on her and out of nowhere felt very naked. "Because...." ...Words were hard.

"Go on, I'm not backing away from this," Lando insisted, trying to get them both on the same page.

A loud sigh. "We had such a great time with your family..."

It was like she was speaking in a language he was not yet fluent in. "Don't divert the conversation," he hissed, eyes on her like she was some sort of target.

"I'm not!" she gasped, almost offended.

Lando was still not following. "My family is basically in love with you, I have messages if you need proof."

"Yeah. And that's the problem," Y/N smirked bitterly.

He leaned closer to her. "I think we should look up a definition of the word problem..." he joked.

She was still burning holes in the ceiling with her look. "We missed the flight. It's another bullet to my mother’s gun." Stupid, stupid mistake.

"Who is she planning on shooting?" Lando asked softly.

"Us, I'm afraid." She finally met his look and the only emotion he was able to read in her eyes was concern.

If this relationship had taught Lando anything, it was that the hard way is sometimes the only way. So, he finally allowed himself to ask the one thing that had been on his mind for a while now. "Does she not like me?"

Deep down he was suspecting this might be one of the reasons why his girlfriend is acting sketchy. He just hoped it was something more trivial. "She's never met you," she whispered, as if she was defending him for something he hadn't yet committed. So far, there had been only one moment when her mom Facetimed her when he was right next to her. One greeting, awkward wave and a smile that was not reciprocated. He made up some excuse to leave them alone promptly after that, feeling like he was intruding on a private conversation.

"I wondered when you were going to tell me that," he remarked, ready to go full on. He was just now allowing the thought that his lover's parent might have been feeding her bitter doubts for some time now enter his brain.

The obvious change of Lando's expression made her stomach turn, kind of like drinking milk that's gone off does. But, they'd vowed to be fully honest with each other after their first big fight. Deep breath. "She um...It's not like you can say she is exactly on board with all of this,“ she gestured between them. 

And there it was. The confirmation he feared. He did his best to remain as calm as possible. "Don't worry, I figured, you sort of hinted at that few times before. And I'm planning on charming the hell out of her. After all, you do share genes. Some of my tricks gotta work on her." It was more of a plea, lacking his general playful confidence. When she studied his look, it reminded her of the times when he was hiding his real emotions in front of hungry reporters.

He told her once he wanted her to be blunt, rather than deceptive in difficult times. The words started to leave her mouth without much of a filter. "But, what if it does not work. She has this habit of making her mind up before I have any chance to affect it."

Somehow, the fact she voiced it, made it easier for him to react. "Honey, don't take this the wrong way. But, I only care about your opinion. It would be great to have your mom on our side...However, I'd like to believe it's not the base of our relationship."

"No, it's not," she said quickly, silently hoping it was going to be enough for them to survive this challenge.

"So, tell me. What does she think about me?" he asked, suddenly craving to know it all.

She bit her lip. "Lando, don't make me say things like that."

Wow. That bad. "I'm used to getting hate from thousands of people who don't know me. I can cope. The more specifics I know, the better I can prepare...Come on, spill it," he countered, trying to convince her that he can handle it. However, it wasn't like he himself was completely sure of that. Her face was expressionless and he nodded to confirm it nonverbally.

"She thinks you're reckless," she spoke slowly, skipping few heartbeats. She was used to being on the other side, praising Lando when he doubted himself. This place, where she found herself at, was not one she liked.

He analysed it for a moment. "Well, I do get into a car every week to purposefully drive it as fast as possible, so I can she from which angle she might be coming from. Nothing new."

"You're a party boy," she shot back faster than she could think.

And he shot right back at her. "You're a party girl, but I assume your mom has no idea, huh."

"No...," she admitted. For some reason, this calmed her down a bit. She finally took another breath.

"What else," Lando's stared at her, following his internal feeling they hadn't arrived to the end yet.

No point in holding back now, she figured. There was a weird ball of tension in her chest, almost asking daring her to push him to the limit. "She googled you. A lot. And she made sure to tell me names of all your model exes. Then proceeded to tell me I look nothing like that," Y/N deadpanned.

Lando knew this was probably the one thing that stung her the most. But, the thought of someone she held so dearly voicing it her was making him extremely angry. "That's just fucked up-"

She continued, before he had any chance to react more.

"And, she thinks you'll affect my school. That the lifestyle around you is shallow and only attracts bonehead people."

Now, this was finally getting to Lando. Of course, he could not let Y/N know that, not in this moment.

"Do you think that too?" he asked, because he craved to know the truth. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, when the world around felt silent and his mind had time to roam freely, he found himself thinking about this. He never really studied and was never going to. His life was based on different approach. He loved it. But that didn't stop him from feeling a bit inferior from time to time.

He expected anything, but a laugh. For a moment he figured she was mocking him. Only once she reached to touch his face he realized just how still and stiff he became throuout out their conversation.

"I think it's shallow and bonehead to assume that. I've met some amazing people in your team, smart people who have dedicated their lives into the sport I'd grown to love while watching get so passionate about it."

There was an unspoken question hanging in the air. Lando dared not to say it outloud.

"And, no. I don't think you deserve to be called any of those words. Only when you're looking in the mirror, because that smug face deserves to be punched one day."

He chuckled. It would take him few moment to truly let her words sink in. "You didn't seem to think that one time in Abu Dhabi." That time when he fucked over a bathroom sink and made sure that she watched them the whole time. Lando watched with joy as her face started getting some color again. He couldn't fight his urge to get closer to his partner, break the tension even further. So, he rolled over to bury his nose in her neck. It was almost automatic at this point. None of his previous girlfriends were this understanding of his overly touchy needs. Words were important, but they grew more on meaning when he could feel her skin, explore her light shiver, watch how her body reacted. When he felt her pushing towards his touch, he swung his arm over her, with the notion of providing some heat to her naked chest.

A more comfortable silence fell upon the hotel room. Both of them lost in their own thoughts. Lando was taking in all of the newly found information. It was a heavy burden, not because of the substance, but because it was coming from someone Y/N held dearly. It was hard not to feel a little injustice of it all. But more than that, he was grateful that she was able to avoid internalizing all of that what was fed to her from her mom. He approached all of this as he would any strategy meeting before a difficult race. Find the strengths, capitalize on them and try to minimize the advantage "the opponent" might have. But truth be told, he'd rather not have to have this sort of competition.

"Thank you," he whispered into the crease of her neck. "Thank you for not giving into it all." He hoped, prayed, that was he as saying was true. It was not just about her mom. It was the press, some of the overbearing fans and anyone who dared to challenge them without having any real insight in their relationship. "I know it must be really hard and not exactly what you might have signed up for."

What did I sign up for? 

She reached over to embrace him, mindlessly drawing circles on his back. The pit inside her stomach was growing smaller. Without really intending to, signed up for a partnership, exciting love affair that got out of hand. Anyone who came before him was redundant. He outshined everyone. 

"I’m pretty sure I must have bribed faith in my past life to have you thrown in my life." 

"Aren’t you my little smart poetic girl," he murmured approvingly and started to cover her skin with kisses. Few moments flew by. "We could order some food, put on the show you like and drift away. How does that sound?" 

She understood his intention. It had been a long day and another one was coming. Her emotions were clashing from one end to another and as much as she tried to hide it all, Lando was proving to be hard to fool. And no - she did not want to chill in. Burning all of it out sounded more fun. To be held for a moment, stuck in the timelessness only lightheaded orgasm created. 

He was still trailing her neck with small pecks, arm locking her in. The untamed curls almost tickling like small feathers. Everything was heightened, as if his skin was loudly calling her in. His words of initiating a calm wind down not matching his action. 

"Please, no more of this PG fun. It’s been days."

He stopped all of his movements. "Well then, pray tell, what do you have on mind?"

The next words flew out of her mouth before she could filter them. "Are you in the mood to fuck me?"

"Am I in the mood to fuck you," he repeated, in his signature sarcasm dripping style. He was having trouble processing how his sexual partner could ever arrive to this question. Unsure whether to address her clumsy dirty talk first instead of the absurdity of the question, he arrived at a simple "Charming…".  Of course he was in the mood. Always, anytime and quite literally anywhere.

"Well it's just, it's been quite a tense talk..." she hinted back carefully. To her surprise, his face went into smirk mode. 

"I will ask you the same thing next time you're hyperventilating about school and you come in begging for stress release," he jested, once again making her eyebrows shooting up. 

"I am never begging," she defended, unwilling to give into his narrative. 

And then he shot back, with his signature you-don’t-have-any-chance-to-resist look. "I said what I said."

Blood ran boiling in her veins. If oil had been in such abundance as his audacity, the world would be able to run cars freely for centuries. "Tell me one example of me begging for sex with you."

Lando turned his head slowly. Oh. Oh, it was on.

Very quickly she realized her own mistake. She ran into that one like a fool. "No, Lando, don't-"

"You know, it has been indeed quite a long day, I think I'm gonna hop in the shower and get a healthy dose of beauty sleep," he declared dramatically, sat up and removed his t-shirt. She rolled her eyes as high as humanly possible. No way would follow through with this premise. "Fine, Lando. I’ll be here, munching on strawberries, naked and horny, all by myself," she tried to tease and leaned over to grab one of the bright red fruits from the trail. Eyes locked in with him as she shamelessly sucked on it. There was a glitch and a twinkle in his look. Almost got her thinking she had this one in the bag. He stepped closer, noses almost touching as he whispered: "Have fun, honey," gave her a little peck on the cheeks while having the nerve to grab her exposed breast. His tone was teasing, daring her to dare a little more. It was annoying in a typical Lando fashion.

"Lando, you gotta be kidding me right now," she sighed, impatience getting the better of her. 

"Few magic words and you get exactly what you want from your reckless racer fuck boy,“ he mocked everyone who ever doubted them. "Oh, sorry, forgot to add, very good at taking your edge off. Am I right?"

His presence was more intoxicating than usual. As if he radiated some hormones making her feral. All the complicated emotions leaving the conversation one by one. Nothing but the two of them left in the room. His hot breath on her cheek, fingers circling over her nipple and his body heat reminding her of each time she wrapped her arms around him as he pushed into her. 

"Yes, that you are," she responded mindlessly and searched for his lips with her own. He allowed her a small peck, like a chef would at a tasting menu. Enough to hook, but not enough to fill up. And with that thought in mind he broke their kiss. "Come on, say it. I want to hear it."

Few moments of silence, her breathing heavy and his almost undetectable. Two ego’s fighting a battle so pointless it was almost amusing. She couldn’t just give in like that, no matter how dizzy her head was getting. 

"Fine by me, honey. Your choice," he danced away, letting her hanging. There was something infuriating about how nonchalantly and elegantly he smiled, knowing well enough her was winning this battle. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes as to prevent herself from watching his tone back. 

This. This was her Lando. Always pushing her into a direction she had no idea she wanted or needed to go. Never the same thing twice, somehow, he always dug up something new. 

She sat on the bed, dumbfounded, playful anger replacing all the anxiety she had felt just moments ago. Was this his plan all along, or did he just have a natural talent at steering her mood into a place where she’d happily go and give into anything he’d suggest her to do?

He was grinning all the way coming to the shower. It was a statement, a game and something to ease the tension. Once the water started, he’d allowed himself do a light check-in with his own feelings. It wasn’t easy to hear all those things. In fact, some of them hit a little close to home. Lando made sure to separate what he had heard from Y/N as a person. She wasn’t the author of these thoughts. Someone else was. A person who he had not yet even met. There wasn’t a single cell in him that would doubt that everything she stared had been said by her mother at some point. 

He closed his eyes and aimed his face directly under the shower head. Images of him and Y/N all coupled up at his family house started to come in, like a set of developed photos. So natural, calming and most of all - honest. Comfort memories he knew he’d be reaching for once the new season and it’s challenges catch up, when the distance and loneliness hit. But at that moment, there she was, right next door and probably still a bit fired up by his uncharacteristic postponing of sex. His hand slid over to his crotch, squeezing himself casually and switching up the mental images to less family-friendly moments. He was sort of expecting her to come and join him in the shower. But no, of course not. Not when he set her up like that. They were all too similar for their own good.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel purposefully hanging dangerously low, he couldn’t stop himself from simpering. Once he got a look at her, sitting under the covers, phone in her hand and too stingy to pass him more than two looks. But, she did come for the second one and that betrayed her, aiming directly to where his tower barely covered his waist. 

To prove his point, he shuffled his wet hair, sudden movement making her glance once again. It felt really addictive to know he was the centre of her attention, despite how much she tried to hide it. 

Smugness and water dripping from him, he landed shamelessly on the bed, towel giving up on trying to participate. Her reaction was to frown, making her pet peeve of people getting into the bed wet known, once again. Something Lando became aware very early on. He used this information only when the situation required it. No words were said, as he leaned over her, making sure to leave some remaining water drops on her, and grabbed a moisturizer. 

Then he proceeded to slowly plump it and rub it on his body. The unreasonably loud sounds of him doing that were cutting the silence of the room like a knife. 

His partner sitting next to him hummed quietly. "Whatever this is, it’s not working."

He replied, elegant as ever. "I don’t know what you’re insinuating." He pretended to be as focused on his activity, the same way as he did when doing PR bullshit. "Ah, honey. Would you be so kind and help me reach to my back?" Lando asked overly nicely. Y/N watched him, almost admiring just how bad his acting skills were and how he proceeded with his act without any remorse. He was reaching over to his back, unable to do so, and making it look like the biggest tragedy human kind has ever experienced. And with puppy eyes, he decided to go for a low blow. 

"Please, baby," he said in a tone so insincere it wouldn’t fool a child. This was yet another provocation. 

"You know it irks me when you’re wet in the bed."

He let out a chuckle. She was so bad at keeping herself in check. It was adorable. She just sat there, pretending to be scrolling Instagram, little lines around her eyes forming from how tense her eyebrows frowned. "I do. And we seriously have to get your accidental innuendos under control. Can’t have you walking in public saying these things." He wiggled the moisturizer in front of her face. 

Finally, she snapped. "You are the most annoying and immature guy I’ve ever met. You’re impossible." Lando looked at her, like one would at an angry puppy that’s trying to jump a little too high. 

"One would almost say a miracle, huh."

Once again, he shook his bottle of moisturizer. Having had enough, she snatched it from his hands and put it back on the nightstand.  "It’s a miracle I haven’t killed you yet."

Without missing a beat, he shot back. "And how will we celebrate?"

She let out a sigh so loud the people in the next room must have heard it. Sitting there, not knowing what do with her hands anymore. He wished they were pulling his hair. 

"Are you seriously gonna make me say it."

He simply nodded, arching himself up. If her mind had been clouded before, it was now full on can't-see-further-than-my-nose type of situation.

He leaned over even closer, getting up all over in her personal space. As if that was even a thing anymore. 

Somehow, for some reason he would have yet unpack, his heart was beating like crazy. Say it. 

Accepting that he won what ever this was, she gulped and finally whispered. "Please."

He gave her a questioning look, as if he didn’t hear her. "Hm? Sorry?"

Still debating whether she should smack him or not, she repeated herself. "Please."

"What, do you want me to put the cream on you too? Hydration is important for the skin,“ he teased, enjoying himself immensely. 

"Lando."

"Y/N."

If he were to be completely honest, he was extremely proud of himself to withholding this long. Also, not sure how longer he could go on, given the fact his erection has entered the chat. 

To make it more complicated, she sat up and put her mouth almost onto his. He could smell her aroused energy. Almost taste her on his mouth. And that as even before she licked his lips lightly with her tongue.

"Say it," he mumbled, unable to make it not sound like a plea. 

It was different than what they’d usually do. Many couples dabbled in talking during sex, they never really did. Then something hit her. Like a secret wavelength he was sending her way. Maybe he needed her to talk today. So, finally, she broke in. 

"Lando, please, fuck me.“ 

All those times, he waited for the five red lights to go out only for him to smash the pedal, paid off. Like opening windows in a stale room, he let the fresh air in. Ripped the duvet covering her off, he grabbed her legs to pull her into a laying down position, not even giving her time to gasp. His moves were quick and oh-so-sure of himself. 

"Tell me what you need, love,“ he ordered, while he traced the line of her neck with his tongue. 

He wasn’t certain if she was finding the idea of talking as hot as he did. But he sure as hell hoped. It wasn’t like he needed any guidance at that point. Had every inch of her body mapped out already. But he longed to hear it from her mouth. Towering over her, he nibbled on her neck, one hand running through her hair and the other squeezing her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. 

He noticed she stopped her breathing and locked him with her arms, holding on for dear life. 

"You, I need you, Lando,“ she let out, suddenly all uncertain and shy. It was the vulnerability in her tone that got him. He moved his lips a little lower, so that he could leave a mark on her collarbone, without fearing she’d regret it tomorrow. 

His body was moving on its own. Brushing on her upper thigh, opening her legs up and positioning himself between her. All the blood left his brain. 

"I want you to touch me. I want to walk with marks made from you in public, a secret only you will know.“ 

He was only now realizing how good of a fuel this was for him. Lightheaded, he folded her legs and pushed them to her stomach, making as small as possible. So that she would be completely in his control. 

To grand her wished, he left one mark just below he collarbone and moved to leave a second one on her breast. She let out a heavy breath. 

"Lando, please. I need you inside.“ 

He was almost getting too dizzy not to comply immediately. His erection throbbing into her leg. 

Then, out of nowhere, he flipped them both. 

"Get over me, baby,“ he hummed and positioned himself on his back. She gave him a questioning look and knelt above his dick. 

But he shook his head and grabbed her hips once again. "Up here.“ 

His hungry look must have encouraged her, so she moved until he stopped her, ending up directly above his mouth. "Sit down.“ 

His statement was followed by his strong hands literally pushing her down on his mouth. 

Eyes finally locked again, he smirked for the last time, before he buried his mouth in her. 

Lando wished he knew what he looked like from her perspective. Squished between her, licking and sucking, letting her move in the exact way how she wished. He felt her legs tense up with each move his tongue made. This all got even more intense when he squeezed her nipple between his fingers. 

He twirled his tongue through her folds, circled around the clit, which had her melt. 

"More,“ she demanded and positioned herself so that he could only access. 

Saliva and her juices were mixing in his mouth, the smell of her arousal hitting his nose and making him high. 

He upped his pace and went for the moves he already knew from the past would work. Watching her crumble, barely being able to keep herself up, to the point where she had to balance herself against the wall, was probably becoming his definition of heaven. His tongue moved in a fixed rhythm, exploring every possible place she had to offer. 

"Lando..." she moaned, completely lost due to the moves his tongue was making. 

He felt the urge to stop and take a breath, because judging by the slight movements of her thighs, she was getting close. 

And only moments later, her first release came. Wetter than ever, she held on dearly and with one high pitched sigh, she collapsed almost completely. He had to stop her from crushing his face. 

"Sorry," she let out mindlessly, unable to give him more reaction. 

Amused, he helped her back down and rolled her over on her back. 

Wasting no time, Lando pushed two fingers in her immediately, not giving her any time to calm down or rest. 

Wondering in which dimension he managed to send her off to, he watched, as she squeezed her eyes shut with every little twist her made. As her moans target to get intense again, he shut her off with a kiss. His tongue matching the movements of his fingers. He waited patiently, before he felt like she was getting lost in the same haze as bare minutes ago, only to remove his fingers and stop kissing her out of a sudden. 

Confusion and mild anger washed over her. 

"What-"

"I can’t hear you, baby," he teased and hovered his wet fingers above her mouth. "What was it that you wanted from me? Must have slipped my mind."

The look of pure desperation she gave him was the hottest shit he’d ever seen. 

"Lando…"

"Let’s made a deal, sunshine," he proclaimed and slowly shoved his wet fingers into her mouth. Like the good girl she was, she sucked on them without hesitation. „I’ll stop anything we’re doing, the moment you shut up. Ok?“

They were so close to each other with every possible body part. But it was not enough. It would never be enough. She nodded and he pulled his fingers out, slowly. 

"Deal, Norris."

A lightning shot through his body and nearly split him in half. She never used his last name before, ever. Why was that, out of all the things, doing it for him. She must have picked up on his momentary relapse and gained more confidence with that. "Stop fucking around, I want you inside. Now.“ 

He was already almost touching her entrance with his dick. Eye locked, he reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. 

"Please,“ she said, loud and proud, making it sound like a demand.

When he finally pushed into her, it was like anything else stopped existing. He belonged there and nothing else mattered. 

"Oh my God, yes,“ she whined, keeping up at her promise. "This is the best shit ever.“ 

Lando’s autopilot kicked in as the last braincell was truly gone. He started to move in a steady beat, finding it incredibly hard to keep himself from literally pounding into her immediately. 

„Faster,“ she encouraged as she held his shoulder with her other hand, to help her find balance. 

Lando was lost, in the best way possible. In her body, in his mind, in the fact that having sex was something completely different when you absolutely adored the person you’d be lying on top of. The built up energy finally finding its release, after days of dancing around. With each thrust, he lost touch with reality more. Only pure pleasure and reminiscence of her voice finding their way in. 

"Oh, God, baby." "Yes." "I need you." "It’s only you." "Shit, you’re so good."

Lando figured a long time ago that, for the lack of better comparison, their bodies must have been made for each other. Different shapes fitting perfectly into each other. They shared their sense of rhythm. It was never too short or too long. She scratched the itch before he got the chance to mention he had one. Lando felt almost sad for anyone who did not get to experience that. 

Somehow, their sex got better every time. 

He missed when she came for the second time, as he was too lost in his own release. His thrusts got more uneven, his body completely arched and then finally - like the slap in the face, pure bliss washed over him. He felt it in what seemed like every muscle, every strain of hair and in every inch of his lower stomach, spreading like nice hot drink in the middle of winter. All was good. There were no problems, only good things. She was perfect. 

He had a hard time recalling what were the exact words they’d share right after he came. The haze started to clear few moments after, when he found himself next to her, puddle of his cum in the middle of her stomach, noses touching each other and light kisses being left like little presents. 

As the heavy breaths grew lighter, he returned back to Earth.

"All good, baby?“ he asked, the sweetness in his tone coming naturally. Searched for any sign of discomfort in her face. He had hoped that she got exactly the kind of release she deserved. 

And many signs pointed towards that. The smile of her disbelief, red flushed face, sensitive skin that reacted to each light touch as if it was a strong grip. 

"I, um. Yes. More than good. Thank you.“ Most people would barely understand with they way she mumbled.

He chuckled. "You don’t have to thank me, ever.“ 

"I was taught that after every please comes a thank you, so pick you battle. All or nothing," she shot back, teasing as ever.

He didn't have to think much before replying. "Well, all of that then.“ 

She nudged him with her nose. "You seemed to enjoy me begging. Though begging might be a strong word. I would never do that." 

Even though she said it in a light tone, he knew it was intended seriously. "Maybe I just really needed to hear it today. That you want me. Need me.“ 

"What I love about this all is that we need each other. Both for different reasons, but that just makes it work even more.“ 

There was comfort in her answer. A realization, an answer to a question they never asked before. 

"I’ll be there for you tomorrow. We’ll crush it, as a team.“

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 4

In which you finally come back home.

Warnings: alcohol use. angst. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word count: 1.9k plus social media posts

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate - Part 3 - Master List

LittlestSainzSis honey, i'm home. user433 isn't it weird she's working for McLaren and not Ferrari??? >>>user3928 nope! hope this helps! user2918 press officer job right out of school? must be nice being a nepo baby >>>user328 she literally worked for Carlos and Lando for two years before going to uni at NYU??? And she has a double degree in PR and business??? >>>usesr322 just say you're jealous next time, it'll be quicker. McLaren So glad to have you back in the paddock!!

LittlestSainzSis fast cars go vroom OscarPiastri so you're who Zak was yelling at to get behind the barrier over the radio??? >>>LittlestSainzSis oops!

LittlestSainzSis that feeling when you wake up and realize it's race day!! user3928: face card never declines user298: blah blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff LandoNorris: don't let that cute face fool you, she was yelling at Oscar and I ten seconds after I took this. >>>LittlestSainzSis neither of you were listening!!! God, this is 2019 all over again, isn't it? >>>user992 ariana what are you doing hereeeeee??? >>>user9383 seriously the first time Lando's in the comments in literal years. tf??? >>>user938 so we're all just going to ignore him calling her cute??? okay???

LittlestSainzSis the boys are ready for race day!!! McLaren best press officer award goes to you bby! >>>user382 admin is unhinged today, I see user0392 i just love seeing Lando back on her feed. >>>user3938 seriously. i feel like mom and dad are back together again. >>>user3844 i'm so glad i don't have to be a child of divorce anymore.

LittlestSainzSis caught someone being a grumpy gills today during the presser. LandoNorris i was probably hungry >>>LittlestSainzSis i think oscar had just told you he was getting sushi with Lily tonight and you got all pouty >>>user948 not her selling out Lando in the comments user938 Chaos Gremlins back to terrorizing paddock! war is over!

Miami May 2024

“Fifteen times Lando Norris has stood on the podium, but never on the top step, until now! It’s a landmark day for Lando! Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It’s victory in Miami for Norris and McLaren! The British drivers dream is realized and at the 110th attempt, he’s done it! He’s won it! Look what it means to Zak Brown! At long last, Lando is your winner!” 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Alex Jacques call the end of the race in your headphones, his voice filled with glee and excitement that matches the feeling in the McLaren garage. After yesterday’s DNF for Lando, it had been pretty doom and gloom on his side of the garage. 

Your heart had ached when you caught sight of him that afternoon, sitting in the glass enclosed conference room that the team used to go over race data. He had been all alone, spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs, face drawn and shuttered. You had wanted to go to him then but hadn’t worked up the courage. 

Things were still…delicate between the two of you. After that first night in Australia, Lando had kept his promise to win your friendship back. You more often than not found your morning coffee order sitting at your desk waiting for you during the week with a silly note written hastily on a posit in his chicken scratch writing that only you seemed to be able to decipher. 

A few treats and free coffee weren’t going to be enough to bring back that casual intimacy that you and Lando had though, you both knew that. The walls you had built up so high around your heart designed specifically for the British driver were still solidly in place and you refused to go running back into his arms so easily. 

And then, Miami happens.

The hot sticky humidity clings to your skin as you watch Lando climb out of the car behind the black and white number 1 sign, the first time he’s been able to park his Formula 1 car right in the middle of parc fermi. You’re not entirely sure where the humidity of Florida ends and the tears still falling from your eyes begins, you’re such a mess. 

If you were to think too hard about it, the fact that you were a complete puddle of jumbled up emotion would surely scare you a little. Those walls, they couldn’t be crumbling now, could they? They couldn’t be slowly tumbling down, allowing for the while possibility of allowing Lando back into your life like he had been before? 

You don’t have time to get too lost in those dangerous kinds of thoughts though because soon after he hops off the car, he’s running straight over to the garage crew and leaping into their waiting arms. He’s waited for so long for this, so many poor performances, so many mistakes and problems with the car had sent him spiraling for so many years. There had been too many nights you had spent with him when he was barely more than a teenager, sat on the floor lamenting about how shit his car was, how shit his driving was, and if he was destined to be one of those midfield drivers that never won anything in their career. 

All of those doubts are erased now and your tears are falling again as the weight of what he’s done settles over the paddock. His engineers and mechanics eventually place him back down on the ground and he’s hugging Zak next, the CEO of McLaren more of a father figure to him by now. Will gets a hug too, his engineer since he joined the team five years ago. 

And then, icy blue green eyes snag yours and everything else falls away in a muted hush. He’s smiling at you, that megawatt grin making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It’s one of those genuine Lando smiles that you haven’t been on the receiving end of for far too long. Your heart stutters to a stop when you realize you’re his next target. What is he doing? You think frantically, mortified that you’re about to be the center of attention if he does what you think he’s going to do. 

And he does. He throws his arms around your shoulders and buries his head deep into the crook of your neck, a move that has camera shutters clicking furiously all around you. You, of course, instantly find your arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him to you despite the metal barrier between you. 

“You’re here.” He sounds surprised that you’d miss this moment. 

“Of course I am. My best friend just won his first Grand Prix.” You whisper into his ear as the crowd continues to grow louder. 

Lando pulls back then, tears shining in his eyes. The weight of your words settle on his shoulders and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you the way he is now. He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen out of your pony tail behind your ear, looking at you like you’ve hung both the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. “I’m so glad you got to be here for this, pretty girl.” 

God, that nickname. It’s the first time you’ve heard it in years and it does significant damage to those carefully constructed walls. 

You smile up at Lando, a little bashful that everyone is watching you two talk so closely together. He returns the smile before turning around to answer a question from one of the officials. He needs to take care of post race inspections, which he does but not before turning back and tossing a wink at you over his shoulder. 

LittleSainzSis It has been a pleasure and privlidge watching you grow over all these years. Life may have taken us in different directions over the last few years but when I say there is no place I would have rather been this afternoon, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your friendship means the entire world to me, Mr. Norris. I'm so proud of you. One win down, so many more to go. LandoNorris so glad you got to be there today, pretty girl xo >>>user948 WE GOT A PRETTY GIRL COMMENT. >>>user0383 i can die happy now user0832 i'm sorry but guys, she literally just friendzoned him so hard in that caption. >>>user9383 yeah, poor lando

LittlestSainzSis You're going to smell like champagne for weeks LandoNorris worth it user948 EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THAT FACE. explain yourself lando norris. user928 did we mean to post this on main ma'am??? user9482 @/littlestsainzsis giving us what we all crave: lando thirst traps. >>>littlestsainzsis don't say i never give you guys anything ever again ;) >>>user9482 omg hi queen

LittlestSainzSis find yourself a man that looks at you like Lan looks at that trophy user0382 LANNNN??? >>>user9484 I am unwell CarlosSainz He's sleeping with it tonight, isn't he? >>>LandoNorris who told you that??? user9383 i feel like i'm interrupting something here... user0309 this picture is...a choice...

The music of the Miami night club pulses through your body as you sink deeper and deeper into the VIP booth later that night. Lando hadn’t given you any room for arguments after all the media duties were done. You were coming out with him and the rest of the team to celebrate. You had barely tried to refuse, not giving him much of a fight because you secretly wanted nothing more. 

Now you sat in the leather booth situated high up in the dark Miami Beach night club that had invited Lando out the moment he had crossed the finish line earlier in the day. There were what felt like thousands of people, most of them were there to celebrate with Lando, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver. 

Alcohol burns at the back of your throat, blurring your vision nicely as you wait for Lando to return from the bar. You had insisted that he wasn’t the one who should be making drink runs tonight but he had insisted on getting you another one and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Carlos is sat next to you, nursing a drink while talking to Charles on his other side.

A small glass is set down in front of you, drawing your attention away from the DJ booth, where you had been starting. 

“Vodka sprite for my pretty girl.” Lando murmurs in your ear, the words sending a cool shiver up your spine.  

You desperately tamp down the way that being called his makes you feel. You cannot be going down that road. Not now when the friendship between the two of you is so fragile. You knew what it was like to lose him in your life and you weren’t sure if you were willing to risk losing him again. 

The same worries you had back before it all went sideways worm their way back into your consciousness. He was too important to you, too integrated into your soul that when he disappeared, it left you broken in a million pieces. You couldn’t risk that again. This had to be strictly platonic between you if it was going to work. You couldn’t afford to lose your best friend again. Those walls around your heart needed to be reinforced and brought back into working order because there was no way you could let this happen. 

“Dance with me?” The question is a husky one, whispered in your ear so no one else is privy to it. 

You know it’s dangerous. You should say no. But the vodka already in your system convinces you that it’s fine. It’s just Lando. So against your what your sober self would consider the best judgement, you feel yourself nodding, allowing Lando to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

If you had been paying better attention, you would have seen the looks Carlos and Charles exchanged behind your back. They were well aware of the frosty relationship that Lando and you had over the last few years and this was a development no one had seen coming but everyone had been hoping for all the same. 

The EDM beats are strong and sensual as Lando leads you out onto the floor, hand firmly gripping yours. He finds an open spot and pulls you towards him, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping at your skirt a little harder than really necessary. You shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want his hands on your hips, his breath mingling with yours, his curls so dangerously close that you could easily rake your fingers through them. You shouldn’t and you can’t because he’s left you before and he could do it all over again. He’s abandoned you and didn’t come back and every sane thought in your body is screaming at you that this man is dangerous. He is dangerous to your heart and your head is thrashing around so loudly but it’s drowned out by the music. 

You simply can’t fight it when he pulls you impossibly closer, hands sliding from your hips lower, lower, lower until it’s almost indecent. The alcohol blurs the edges of your usually sharp judgement and it’s not helped by the fact that this man seems to have cast a spell over you. You can’t want this. Can’t love how the weight of his hands feel on your skin. Can’t adore how his lips tick up at the edges when he sees you walk into the garage during a race weekend. 

This is Lando after all. Your best friend. Your best friend who abandoned you once and had only barely just come back begging for forgiveness. You can’t allow him to knock down those walls so quickly, can you? 

His lips flutter over the damp skin at your temple, dusting the slightest kiss there, almost as if it’s a test. A test to see if you push him away or allow him in. 

A test that you fail. 

Because the moment his lips touch your skin, it feels like a bucked of ice water has been splashed over your head and you realize what the fuck you’re doing. Its too hot. Too close. Too much and you simply can’t have him touching you anymore. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Panic races through you as you stumble back out of his arms, logic finally winning out over your own heart’s stupidity. 

The delicate balance you had struck with him shatters in an instant because you both knew there was supposed to be more between you but you’re desperately scared and Lando is so wretchedly full of regret he can’t stand it. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all you manage to choke out before fleeing. 

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[mermaidchansons]

Divine Indeed: Part One

Neighbor!Terry Richmond x Divine Wells (black OC)

Story Summary: Divine Wells, an autistic seamstress, deals with waves of change after she picks up her life and moves to San Diego for a new job. She thought she’d finally found peace in her new normal; until Oshun decided to push her path to collide with her fine ass neighbor, Terry Richmond.

Words: 1400+

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: I guess I’m back like John Wick lmfao. I know this is short but there will be more! My taglist is old so if you would like to be removed, lemmie know. Thanks for reading the beginning of this 5 part series <3 - Ashanti

Pt. 1 Pt.2

“Phone, wallet, journal, where the hell did I put that key?” Divine shivered from the cold as she rummaged through her tote, searching for her mail key. She knew she should have added the key to her ‘Heathers’ lanyard when she moved in two weeks ago. But no, the endless streams of thought tossed that out completely. Here she was, tired from her first day at the new job, freezing from the sudden drop in temperature outside; dragging her bandaged fingers through her belongings and wincing at the pain. The sounds of the busy road and the bustling community echoing in her apartment complex were bouncing against her cat ear headphones. Overstimulation had already begun to creep up her shoulders, causing her to search hurriedly.

“It’s fine, just breathe,” she murmured to herself, before squatting and emptying her bag on the floor. 

When the fashion house hired her full-time, she hadn’t expected to be welcomed with such a joyful yet overwhelming welcome. The office was fast-paced, everyone wanted to introduce themselves and compliment her work at last season's fashion week. Divine, as grateful as she could be, was exhausted. The fabric archive was extensive, her desk was flooded with natural light, and the office was close to her new favorite coffee chain. All good things, all great things; but the exhaustion of change was eating away at Divine’s joy. Greedily gobbling it up and leaving nothing but crumbs in her hands. It was enough to make her sick.

Divine took out her phone and turned on its flashlight, illuminating the inside of the black tote. The silver mail key glimmered in the light in the left corner of the bag, causing Divine to sigh in relief. Accommodating change with ever lessening spoons was an easy way to ruin what should have been a good day.

 Change was a concept that both pushed and plagued her existence in this world. It was a fickle thing, really. A breakup with her freak of the week or a sudden change in plans could dissolve all ability to function; however, so could a new high paying job, a new apartment, a new city. When Divine was 7 years old, her twin sibling Sera found her crying under the ancestor table with her eyes shut tight. She was praying, begging Oshun and Elegba to stop time altogether and keep the waves of change from lapping at the beach of life that she had been thrust upon, unwillingly. Most of her childhood was spent running away from the throws of time. Her parents brought their twins up in love and the teachings of the Orishas, wanting to grant them spiritual guidance that would prepare them for anything they should face. But it didn’t truly matter whether the change was good or bad, Baby Divine would still have to regulate herself, manipulating and reforming her spirit to adapt to a new mold. Every now and again, the freshly 31-year-old would find herself in her tub with her ears below the water, desperately pleading for Oshun to still time. Only for a moment, just enough time to get her bearings. Divine had made her plans, carefully entwining every new task with just enough time to find balance. However, the Orishas did not take these plans into consideration when they made her. Oshun had her own plans. 

Divine shoved the spilled contents of her life back into her tote and walked into the mailroom. She leaned down to unlock what she thought to be her mailbox, eager to get her package and scamper off to her apartment before anyone saw her bent over. The key didn’t work in #71, #74, or #75, and she could never remember. She made a mental note to reread her move-in papers so that she wouldn’t be in here for this long again. There was nothing wrong with sharing a mailroom with other folks, but Divine knew she took up space. She was a dark skin woman with thick thighs, an ass that could stop traffic, and a tummy to match. Today’s pants were put on when Divine was hyping herself up this morning, telling herself that ‘an ass this good deserves to be seen’. But 10 hours later with little to no patience, the less she could be perceived by others, the better. She just needed to get her new stuffy, a pig with wings, and get out as soon as she could.  The music in her headphones transitioned into a new song and the slow plucking of a bass guitar steadily built up in her ears before King Woman’s voice floated in. 

I don’t have to sell my soul

He’s already in me

I don’t need to sell my soul

He’s already in me

Unlocking door #78, Divine sent a silent thank you to the ancestors before pulling two letters out. There was no package. Why was there no package? Divine reached her arm in as far as she could and felt around the empty space, her shield of annoyance stopping her from noticing a person entering the room. 

“The front desk usually leaves a key for bigger packages,” the deep voice boomed out. Divine, scared out of her wits, moved a bit too fast, clanging her wrist against the mail to get out. She looked at the person surprisingly, shaking the pain away from her wrist. He was soaked to the bone like he’d just been caught in a rainstorm; the wet fabric of his shirt clung to his thick, muscle-lined frame. Divine had gotten so lost in drinking in the man’s tall frame, that she had forgotten all about her key and the mailbox. Package be damned. 

I wanna be adored

I wanna be adored

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?” Divine stood up straight, fixing her clothes, and put one side of the headphones behind her ear. The man was practically a giant, so tall that she was sure he had to duck to walk into the room. Her eyes locked with his and she audibly gulped. His eyes were transportive, a stunning grayish blue with flecks of green folded in. They looked like wells filled to the brim with a storm, desperate to escape and wreak havoc on anyone in its path. 

“You’re good,” the giant said, offering small bits of reassurance, “if you have a package, they leave a key to the community package box. May I?” 

Divine shifted to the side to allow him enough room to sidestep in front of her and grab the key that had lodged itself into the back corner of her mailbox. She watched him intently as he moved to open the community box, making note of how the muscles in his back moved. Her mouth went dry watching him and it was as if all the water in her body was flooding to her middle. She needed to get out of here, as soon as possible. 

The kind man handed her her missing package with the key on top, their hands touching and setting off a string of electricity that shot up her arms and down her spine. An unintentional staring match has begun and Divine tore eyes away, intimidated and aroused. 

“Thank you. Bye,” Divine curtly turned on her heels and rushed out of the mail room, and made a beeline straight to the stairs; elevator be damned. Who was that god of a man? Was he watching her walk away? God, she hoped that he was. Divine didn’t want to be perceived but if he was watching she’d make it worth the watch. She relaxed her body and amped up the sway of her hips before checking over her shoulder to see that he was turned away. She dragged her hands down her face, groaning in embarrassment. Her sibling would get a kick out of this.

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @ashanti-notthesinger @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @siriuslycollinss @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

Thanks For Reading!

[sister-lucifer]

An Epoch of Horticulture: Chapter One

[Masterlist] 

Ticci Toby x Gender Neutral Reader 

Genre: Slow burn, fluff 

Summary: An odd figure slinks into your apothecary on a rainy day 

Content/warnings: Profanity, a bit of awkward conversation, my personal headcanons about Toby + his disabilities, I made up some magic fantasy plants for this so don’t think too hard about it, thankies 

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you like this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.  

The rain has been falling nonstop since dawn. Not once has the endless patter of water on the roof of your apothecary ceased, or even slowed. Now and then you glance out the window at the stubborn clouds, willing them to move, but they refuse. 

You’ve busied yourself with menial tasks today; scrubbing the counter, reorganizing your tools, alphabetizing your seeds. Despite your silent hope, though, not one customer has come through. Bad weather means no foot traffic—you know that, but it’s still a fair bit disappointing. For the fifth time today, you debate closing up shop early. You can’t help feeling a bit dejected. It’s not easy running a small business like this, and every sale matters. 

Your little apothecary is quaint, but you’ve poured your heart and soul into making it exactly to your vision. On the front of the building is your hand-painted sign, the name “The Zenith” proudly proclaimed in a perfect forest green, and by the door sits your rainwater catchers. Inside, you’ve stacked the shelves full of anything that can be potted, and racks for drying herbs and flowers hang on either side of the shop. Behind your counter, on the furthest wall, are locked cabinets for keeping the more expensive wares, and you even have your own greenhouse through the back door. This place means so much to you—seeing it so empty is disheartening. 

You heave a heavy sigh as you trudge to the door, deciding to just give up for today. The rain shows no signs of stopping, and that means no one will be coming in. You can always try again tomorrow, right? 

You reach up to turn the sign on the door from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed.’ Just as your fingers touch the wood, though, you pause. An odd sound has caught your attention. You only recognize it as the sound of frantic footsteps on the wet cobblestone for a split second. 

In a flash, a dark figure appears from out of the gloom. You barely manage to move out of the way before the door swings open. You almost wince, worried it may come off the hinges, or perhaps knock the bell off its hook. 

A tall man rushes in, stumbling like a fawn on ice and nearly getting a bit too friendly with the ground. You watch him gain his bearings, not taking your eyes off him as you quickly shut the door back. He huffs as if he can’t catch his breath. 

Your eyes slowly scan him from the bottom up as you try to discern if you’ve seen him before. His thick, leather boots are clearly worn from use, and caked in mud that’s left a filthy trail on your floor. His baggy work pants are equally weathered, with patches of scrap fabric messily stitched on in random places. He wears a navy windbreaker half zipped over a ratty, brown hoodie, and when your gaze gets to the edge of his sleeve you can see that he’s wearing gloves. He pulls his hood down off his head—good heavens, he’s paler than death—and shakes out a curly thatch of brunette hair. You could liken him to a big dog shaking off its coat. 

He turns to face you, boots squelching in the small puddle he’s created around his feet. The bandage on his cheek crinkles as his face stretches with a crooked smile. Your attention is momentarily drawn to the one chipped tooth he keeps running his tongue over. 

“Not ex-exactly the bess-ss-t day to be— b-be—bop! Bopop!—out and about, h-huh— huh?” he says with a chuckle, followed by several clicks of his tongue in an odd rhythm. You nod in agreement, still a bit too startled by his sudden entrance to reply. One of his hazel eyes scans the shelves with curiosity; the other, you notice, struggles to follow it. 

After a second more of silence, you snap out of your surprise. 

“Oh, let me take your coat,” you say quickly, reaching up to take the windbreaker off him. He happily complies, pulling the striped sleeves of his hoodie free from the jacket. It continues to drip as you hook it on the rack. You make a mental note to do some good mopping later. 

You turn back to your guest, only to find him on the other side of the room. He’s crouched in front of a pot of sour brandy, eyeing it intensely. He leans in to sniff the opening of the pitcher-like flower. 

“You don’t wanna do that!” You call out, but you aren’t fast enough. He winces and groans in disgust, rising to his feet so fast he nearly falls. You have to choke back a laugh. 

“Sorry,” you say with a barely disguised giggle, “you might wanna avoid smelling random plants in here. That’s sour brandy.” 

You pick up a pamphlet from your counter and hold it out to him. 

“It’s known for its incredibly acerbic taste, and is usually used to, uh…expel irritants from the stomach. Here—this will tell you everything you need to know about that sort of thing.” 

He huffs, like he’s trying to push the smell out of his nose. He takes the pamphlet from you, but only flips through it for a few seconds before folding it in two and shoving it into his pocket. Well, okay then… 

“…Um, anyways,” you continue as you move behind your counter, “welcome to The Zenith. What can I get for you today?” 

He only stares back at you like you’ve just spoken another language. You’re about to repeat yourself when you’re interrupted by a sudden jerking of his neck. It pops in a way that surely must be painful, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Just a ss-second,” he replies, holding up one hand while the other pats around his pockets. One side of his face twitches as he digs into his hoodie. After a bit of searching, he pulls out a slip of paper, unfolding it and pushing it across the table towards you with a shaky hand. 

Some ink comes off on your fingers as you pick it up. The words are a bit smudged with raindrops, but it’s readable enough, even with the pompous cursive handwriting. You nearly scoff as you scan the list of plant names; it’s all high-end herbs and rare flowers, even a few species you need certain credentials to own. Fortunately, you do. 

“Looks like someone’s planning a party,” you comment absentmindedly. You rifle through the keys on your belt for a moment before grabbing the one you’re looking for. 

“Oh, uh, it-it’s not for me,” the man explains, suddenly looking sheepish as he watches you unlock one of the cabinets on the back wall of the store, “my, uh, mm-m-my bosses have—click! Clickick-ick! Fuck off!—h-have this big…thing—I dunno what it is, really—going on this-ss-s weekend.” 

You give a hum of acknowledgment without looking away from what you’re doing. Briefly, you run your eyes over the various pouches of herbs sitting on the cabinet shelves, then look back down at the list. You grab each bag one by one as you read the names. 

Sailor’s red, sunflick, vylar…they better know what the hell they’re doing. 

You let out a low whistle as you close up the cabinet. Talk about crazy rich people. This mix of stuff could lay you out flat for days. The man seems to notice your expression. 

“W-What’s wrong?” he stammers with a tilt of his head. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you reply with a shrug, “just, uh, this stuff is more intense than I usually go for.  I sure hope your bosses know how to prepare this sort of thing, you can’t just be throwing this into your salad…” 

He laughs—it’s a scratchy sort of warble, and it makes you grin in return. He reaches up to itch the back of his neck, and he looks like he wants to say something, but he bites his tongue. 

You drop the pouches onto the counter before moving on to the next part of your list, and to one of your shelves. While you’ve several attractive flowering plants, you notice that the types requested are quite renowned for their beautiful blooms, and all in white and yellow. You also notice, though, that many of them are incredibly high maintenance, and will die within the week if not attended to with utmost care. 

For some reason, it’s a bit hard to conjure a flattering image of these people. 

You’re almost hesitant to let your darlings go when you know in your heart they won’t be properly loved. 

Despite your woes, you gather the pots all the same. When you turn to walk back to your counter, you catch eyes with the man for a split second. He nearly jumps out of his skin before quickly putting his head down and pretending to be very interested in his shoes. 

You’re not quite sure how that makes you feel. You brush it off for now, deciding it probably isn’t all that significant; he’s a rather awkward one, after all. 

You set the flowers down on the counter, then look back at the list. The last few items aren’t kept in the front of the shop. 

“Oh, I’ll be right back,” you tell the man with a polite smile, “I need to grab a few things out of the greenhouse for you.” 

“Huh?” he barks. He was looking right at you, but it seems he wasn’t really paying attention. 

“Uh, yeah, that—th-that’s okay,” he adds quickly, a few of his knuckles popping as they flex in an unnatural manner. He shoves his hands in his pockets and lets his eyes wander idly about the store. 

As you make your way back into the greenhouse, a nagging feeling in the back of your mind starts to bloom. The tall stranger has definitely caught your attention. He couldn’t be any older than 25, but he looks worked to the bone. Despite that, you think as you pluck a few fruits from a caerulem tree, he’s got the charm of an awkward teenager. He shambles about like his body is new, or perhaps like three raccoons pretending to be a person. The idea amuses you more than you’d like to admit. 

When you return to the shop, bag of assorted fruits in hand, the man has already found something else to be interested in. He’s gingerly toying with the cap of a spongy mushroom, occasionally glancing at the pamphlet you gave him earlier. Cross-referencing, presumably. He looks up like a deer in headlights when he hears you drop the bag on the counter. 

He shoves the pamphlet back into his pocket with even less care than last time before rushing over to you like an excited child. He puts his palms flat on the counter, leaning forward a bit more than is usually socially acceptable. 

“Didja get it?” he asks, lazy eye twitching and scrunching a bit. 

“Yessir,” you reply with a quick nod and wide eyes. He seems to realize he’s overstepped a bit, and pushes back. 

He starts searching around in his pockets again.

“So, uh, h-how much will—dammit! Goddammit!—will th-th-that be?” 

You take a moment to count up everything on the counter. It’s quite the haul, that’s for sure. Good news for you. 

“…An even 80,” you declare. 

He swiftly pulls something from his pocket and smacks it into the table. When he moves his hand away, you can see it’s a drawn note for…two hundred? 

You resist the urge to groan in frustration. You begrudgingly open your register to retrieve the man’s change, but he stops you. 

“T-They said to just let— l-let you keep the cheque!” he sputters as quickly as he can. 

That makes you quirk a brow. 

“Um…are you sure?” you ask, “This is over double what this stuff is worth.” 

The man shrugs and kicks at the ground. “They do that s-ss-sort of thing all th-the—shrrrk!—all the time. ‘s not like they can’t aff-aff-afford it, ‘n’ they wanna make sure the—t-the—go away! Go away!—make sure the sh-shhh-shopkeepers like them.” 

A beat of silence passes as you mull that over. 

“…I sh-shhhouldn’t have said that,” the man mumbles. His lips quirk up in an awkward grin. Of course, you naturally return the gesture, and mime zipping your lips. You could swear it makes his restless shoulders relax a bit. 

You put the cheque away before reaching for one of the pots. Just as you pick it up, the man’s hands come down on yours and hold them still. 

“Woah, hold on, w-what-what are you doing?” 

You stutter, not sure how to answer. 

“Uh…I was just gonna help you carry some of these. You walked here, right? Can’t be that far. Besides, it’s not like anyone else is gonna be coming in with this weather.”

He shakes his head vehemently, pulling the flower away from you. 

“No way, I-I got this-ss-s,” he insists with an admirable amount of confidence. 

You open your mouth to protest, but you’re too impressed by the display that follows to speak. You’re not sure how, but he manages to scoop everything up into his arms. You nearly jump over the counter just in case he falls. He’s like a tower of blocks struggling to keep its balance. 

By some miracle, he manages, and before you know it he’s headed to the door. You go to open it for him, but don’t get the chance. He lifts a boot and hooks it under the horizontal door handle to pull it open. You hold it open for him, but only really to feign helpfulness as he sprints out into the rain. 

“Have a good day!” you call, and he gives a reply you can’t understand through the rain. He quickly disappears into the gloom. 

You step back inside, alone in your shop once more.  

“…Nice guy,” you mutter to yourself. You turn to head back to your counter, but something catches your eye: 

His windbreaker is still hanging on the rack! 

Frantically pulling it from the hook, you rush out into the rain without thinking. You call out to nothing as you run in the direction you think he went, realizing you never got his name. There’s no sound but the rain on the concrete. 

You slow to a stop when it becomes clear your efforts are for naught.  

You look down at the jacket, watching as the rain rolls off of it. Briefly, you debate still running after him, but think better of it. Even if you did find him, he’d probably be weirded out that a stranger chased him down over a windbreaker. 

Well, you can’t stand in the rain forever. You sigh as you turn back around to head back to the shop. 

Surely, he’ll be back…right?

This is not fully proofread, please let me know if you see any errors. 

Feedback is appreciated and encouraged. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! It’s free, takes two seconds, and it’s a great way to support writers.

[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑 - EARLY RELEASE. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

“The next fill-up is fine.”

“Alright.”

The drive had been quiet. So quiet that if he hadn’t helped her into the car, Reuven might not have known she was there at all. Though, for the first few minutes, he glanced over every so often, to find her gaze reflected back in the passenger window, staring out into the abyss of trees and cold that she’d just escaped from. 

He didn’t press her. Not only just because he was certain she didn’t want to share, but because he wasn’t so sure he wanted her to share either. 

It had been a long time since he’d tried to manage any conversation that bore more weight than just menial small talk. Easily digestible how are you ’s and living the dream and did you watch the game on Sunday?

Certainly no amount of small talk was necessary here, nor would be appreciated, and he was saving them both the headache of its formality by embracing the silence, as did she. 

It didn’t take long for whatever awkward edge he held to mellow out and dull at its edges. After a few minutes into the drive, he flipped on the radio, just a mumbling volume, enough to encroach on the silence but not demand its eviction. It was enough to placate the drive, until twenty-five minutes had passed, and the first gas station, not a few minutes off from that stranded, run down dive bar, came into view over the hill. 

Its occluded red sign failed in the attention-grab it attempted. A star with a faded smile pinned up next to the gas station’s name, which was also half-eroded into some guessable alias. Only half the overhead lights on the pumps worked, and the same was true for the exterior lights of the snack shop. Reuven rolled in to one of the parking spots, out of the way, nearby the entrance and cut the ignition. 

He leaned back in his seat, inhaling deep and slow, in preparation before he finally acknowledged her existence again, and bid her adieu. “Alright. Are you sure you don’t want—” But just as he was about to finish his sentence, he laid eyes on the girl’s reflection in the window again. Her head was lulled to the side, resting against her shoulder, her breaths coming in deeper and slower than they had earlier. 

She was asleep. 

Calm. Replenished.

The man stared at her, catching his own reflection in the window, behind hers. His own dark, hallowed out gaze. The indentation of his adam’s apple, beneath a dark, unkempt beard with just two bilateral lines of gray extending down it to show his age. His curls had dried and returned to the coiled mop upon his head, falling down on either side of his face ever so slightly. His jaw flexed, and he glanced around at the otherwise empty lot, as if someone out there could help him solve this conundrum. 

Well. 

Should he wake her up?

He chewed on his lip, before drawing his palm over his mouth, and looking back over at her in some uncertainty. She looked so peaceful now. And he could see clearly now the bags that lingered beneath her eyes, sunken so far it seemed this was the first lick of rest she’d gotten in days. Reuven wasn’t sure he had the heart to. 

He tipped his head back against his seat’s headrest, counting down the minutes as they flashed, excruciatingly, on the radio’s screen. Last call would be done soon. Did he have time to even get to the bar, scope out his sacrifice for the night, and follow them without drawing suspicion? 

The man inhaled, a bit frustrated, a bit relieved, in some sick way, and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen. She was still sleeping, more deeply than before. 

What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just dump her here on the side of the road. And where would she go, if he did? She clearly had been wearing the same clothes for awhile. If he was admitting it to himself, she kind of smelled, in the same way a stray dog smells. Unwashed. Neglected. 

No way for a girl to live.

He remembered his Chedva again. Her unruly, curly hair. How quickly it would tangle if she didn’t comb it through every morning, and god forbid she skipped a shower. He’d have to sit her down on the floor between his legs and piece carefully through it with a comb, all while she sniffled and whined at him when he tugged a bit too hard. 

What about this girl? 

He could see the way her hair, previously soaking wet and almost iced into thickened strands, had now dried up and coagulated into itself. 

How would she get a comb?

Another minute passed.

He stuck his key back in the ignition, and brought his truck back to life.

[the-writing-trash-panda]

For anyone interested, I'm writing a Harumi redemption/ Llorumi slow burn fic.

[silentmacabre]

IMAGINE ☁️

art donaldson x fem reader (y/n) // slow burn // foundation/universe building // gym romance // college!art // quick read (~900 words)

(a/n: I am such a sucker for reciprocated crushes and mutually nervous meet-cutes so I had to write one with stanford!art. pls let me know what you think and drop any imagine prompts you have in the comments!)

🪽

-

walking into the gym was always somewhat of an embarrassing routine. digging your id card out from the bottom of your bag as keys and coins jingle, receipts shuffling to the side. scanning the card, you offer a ginger smile to the girl behind the desk who doesn't bother to look up from her phone.

on the way to the locker room you pass the weight racks. a group of about six tall, fit boys hollering and talking amongst themselves captures your briefest attention. recognizing a few from around campus, however, only furthers your social anxiety. the first few people file past you into the yoga studio, unrolling lush mats that match their water bottles and headphones.

rushing to the locker room now you turn the corner sharply and hit something solid with a thud.

“shit! im sorry i-” he instinctively grasps your upper arms, prepared to hold you steady.

you look up, frozen from the interaction. the blonde haired boy’s expression is soft and you can’t help but notice his eyes. his pupils are wide despite the blinding fluorescents that line the gym, each iris speckled with different spots of turquoise and mahogany.

“it’s okay!” you rush to offer.

his hands relax their grip, his thumbs in delay as they trail over and then off your shoulders.

you attempt another pained smile like the one offered to the receptionist except this time it’s met with a sweet, slanted grin. his jaw hangs slack slightly, lips parted in anticipation of conversation when another boy, slightly bigger and with a mess of brown curls, turns the corner from the men’s locker room.

“art, man…” he says gruffly, slapping the boy in front of you firmly on the back with both hands. he makes no effort to move.

the taller boy enters your field of vision and his steps halt, eyebrows raised then corrected.

“oh- my bad.”

both boys stand in front of you now, obstructing your path to the girl’s room. adjusting your grip on your yoga mat you clear your throat, the weight of their gaze finally too much to bear.

“well excuse me,”

“oh! sure yeah,” the blonde boy shuffles aside, his friend slowly following suit. “…wouldn’t want to, uh- miss that,” he stutters lazily pointing at the mat under your arm. he lets out an anguished, embarrassed sigh as his friend stifles a laugh.

your eyes lock a final time, the bridge of your nose rosy and hot. as you disappear into the stillness of the girls’ room you hear the two boys speaking in hushed voices.

“who was THAT?” a voice you can only attribute to the brown haired boy asks.

“I- I don’t know. I think she’s in my math?” his voice like gravel, words spoken carefully.

“she’s bangin’, dude.”

“c’mon man…”

“what!”

this observation of you in your self described “frumpiest” state makes your ears burn, the back of your neck prickle with sweat and nerves of having been truly seen.

shoving your belongings into a locker, you collect your water and yoga mat. on your way out of the room you pause at a mirror, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

‘I guess im not too bad,’ you allow.

-

as class winds down, you lie flat on your back allowing the melodic whine of the music to rock you gently as you catch your breath. consciously loosening every muscle in your body one after the other, you open your eyes to sneak a look at the others in the class, all lost in their own moments of reflection alongside you. a series of laughs moving through the hallway causes a few of them to open their eyes but their interest quickly wanes. instead, your eyes trail out the door just as the boys from earlier make their way past. their biceps glisten with sweat and otherwise floppy hair sticks to their temples.

a particularly ragged mane of gold glues your eyes to him. his dimples are deep, his flushed lips framed by smile lines as he grins, deep in conversation. your chest rises and falls faster now, seeing him, remembering his hands fixing you in place.

before he’s out of view again, he turns to peek into the class room, eyes dancing from student to student and finally landing on you. the undeniability of your eye contact forces his head down, the beginnings of a blush dusting his cheeks just as he is out of sight.

you release a breath you hadn’t realized you held at the sight of him. he made you nervous, that much was apparent, but why?

-

leaving, the gym feels emptier without the chime of boys’ abrasive cackles. stepping out into cool autumn air, you’re about to start back to your apartment when you see it.

leaning against a fence post lost in something on his phone it’s as if he can sense you’re there. looking up, his blue eyes seem darker under the cloudy afternoon sky but the smile that pulls at his lips is profound.

“hi,”

he had waited just to see you again.

“can I walk with you?”

-

🪽

[agaypanic]

slow burns are fun until you’re the one writing it.. like wdym i can’t make them kiss yet ???

[obeydehjess]

Huskerdust is just something I do now I guess. I don't even know what people wanna see I simply let my possessed fingers move. Touch starved husk is my new favourite thing I GUESS.

[jdjksnsks]

“Pretty boy”

Completely ignore how they’re ss of google docs!! (Also it’s my first time ever writing any kind of fan fic EVER, so pls bare w me)

[nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings]

Me reading the slow burn fic that I’M writing: God I wish these two would kiss already

[goldsbitch]

Hypochondria

part 4 to p1, p2, p3

He can sense her emotions, she feels his pain. Baby steps, that's the only way to go.

author's note: guess who's back - and a promised smut chapter turned into slow burn. any reported typos are appreciated. there will be p5.

"I'm sorry, Lando - this all just so bizarre. I'm barely taking it in. Literally don't understand how you're so calm."

He laughed gently. "Well, I did have few extra days to process. And hearing my name roll of your tongue is distracting enough," he said flirtatiously.

Her cheeks went red and her mind stopped, head getting filled with desire and lust. Lando's lips turned into a wide smile, him feeling her arousal as if she was screaming it loudly to his face.

"Glad to see my words have an effect on you. This is indeed going to be fun..."

Lando was on cloud nine. He was just staring at her as if she was a miracle. Her deep eyes unable to stay away from looking at him and lips that had a silent invitation written on them.

He was high on the way how relaxed she felt, proud that he made her feel like that. It was as if there was no yesterday or tomorrow. Just them and the couch. And after few moments of silence and collecting his bravery, Lando leaned in and kissed her.

It was clear to him from the moment he took her upper lip in that he'd give anything for this moment to take at least a thousand years. She did not hesitate and kissed him back immediately. The sweetest touch a woman can give. Leaned in and let nature do its miracles. He smiled into her lips and pushed himself closer to her, making her sink in the couch.

It was right then when a loud, impatient knock nearly sent them both into shock. Lando froze and back away from Y/N little bit, furious with whomever that dared to disturb a key moment in their lives.

"Lando, I apologize, but we have an urgent matter on our hands."

He rolled his eyes and let a deep breath out, recognizing the voice of his workoholic PR manager. This was not the first and probably the last time he had to tell his team off in the dark of the night. Internet never sleeps.

"Can it really not wait this time until tomorrow?" he said before he gave Y/N shameful and apologetic look. She just kept herself quiet, sunken into the comfy couch.

"I'm afraid we will need some immediate action," came from behind the door after another impatient knock.

Lando got his phone out to check the time, only to see 17 missed calls from several people.

"Ok, I'm coming."

He half opened the door to a very flustered PR manager, who looked like he was about to announce a coming tornado. Lando just raised his eyebrows, encouraging him to spill the beans and then planning on dismissing him.

"Anita released a break up TikTok. It's going viral."

As far as emergencies go, this one felt to Lando like a second-tier one. He was more concerned about the anxiety he felt coming from Y/N. Kind of wished she was kept out of it, for her own good.

"I'm sure we can address this in few hours," Lando replied calmly.

"She accused you of cheating. In a very colorful manner, I must say," the guy continued, as if he was not confident enough to fully explain the situation. "I'm in touch with her publicist, so that we can come up with a joint statement online. Apparently she won't talk to anyone but you."

Lando stayed silent, the only thing he really wanted was to close the door and return to the couch.

"We can't have another cheating scandal. McLaren will get involved," he pleaded once again in hopes of finally convincing Lando.

Deep breath. "Sure. Can I meet you at the lobby or somewhere in few minutes?" Lando caved in. A puzzled look flashed over his PR's manager, because usually Lando preferred to solve his crises in the comfort of his suite. The driver hoped no comment would come his way. After few seconds, the guy finally nodded.

"Understand, sure. I'll see if we can get the conference room."

He closed the door and tried to brace himself for any type of reaction Y/N might have. But deep inside he knew - seen it countless times. She abruptly got up, fixed her clothes, flashed him only one quick look before avoiding his face completely.

"Um, I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," he said, letting her pass by. The reality hit hard. She barely knew him. Somehow, the air got flooded with inescapable loneliness.

//

Y/N tried her best to follow her daily routine the following week. The memory of her running away from Lando's room like a little child chasing her like a nightmare. It was just so humiliating. The guilt, unjustified, was eating her up. She tried to stay away from social media, but her will was not strong enough. Late night scrolling included absorbing lot of Lando hate.

He also did his best to keep himself busy and focus on his job. If it had been any other person, he'd already be chasing Y/N down and try to reason with her, get this experience behind them and keep starting fresh. Perhaps he was lucky, that he knew her and if he's pushed immediately, she'd just hide even more.

He found himself on the track during free practice, constantly stealing glances over to the medical tents, just to get a glimpse of his guilt-ridden soulmate. All he wanted to do was shake some sense to her. That evening he finally snapped. No more hiding. He was about to get creative.

So there he was, alone once again, in a random hotel room, in a city he barely remembered the name of, trying to get a hand of morse code. Something he never thought would be his issue, ever. It was a shot in the dark. Pinch a message into his arm and hoping she'd understand his intention. After all, she felt his pain, so he figured if he was annoying enough, she'd have no choice but to show up. Many curse words were uttered about the absurdity and difficulty of it all, before Lando got a hand of it. He opted to focus on the rhytmn and after he felt confident enough, abandoned tapping into a table and began pinching his left hand.

Let's talk. Room 1014. Please.

Over and over again. It was so incredibly annoying. But, he was going to persevere even if it meant having a bruise tomorrow.

After what felt like like seven thousand years - a knock on the door.

This was it, he thought as he opened the door to equally annoyed person. She shot arrows from her eyes and he could not help but smirk. She cracked the code, but he won.

"Now, let's get one thing clear," she opened with, hands firmly on her hips, "you are not going to use this trick outside of an emergency. Ok?". Her face did this strange twitch, she obviously had a hard time admitting he won that round. He leaned over the door frame, not caving in to her anger. Stood like a patient anchor, waiting for the sea to calm down. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, failing at keeping her look so stern. It's been few days since they last locked eyes. She could practically sink in his. He just gave her a small nod, definitely not planning on misusing this ever again. Absolutely not.

"I'm glad you understood," he said and let her walk in. Was he nervous? That was probably the closest thing to describe it.

"I don't know the Morse code, so that made it super fun," she proclaimed and stopped in the middle of the living room, not sitting down on any of the chairs or couches.

"Me neither. But you better learn it, you never know..." he teased and walked dangerously close to her. She kept her gaze down.

She spoke before he could say any more cheeky lines. "So, I'm here. Anything specific you wanted to say that exceeded your ability of speaking in Morse code?" Her attitude hurt. However, he was not going to let her push him away so easily. "Y/N, this is not going to work on me. You can't push me away so easily, so just try and stop it. Please." Big gulp on her part followed by a light nod. "Good. Listen, I don't want to let this fizzle out so easily. It's hard to think about anything else once I've met you. I'm sorry about the whole break up mess. It's not fair to you. But, in my defense, I had no idea I'd just randomly be sat next to...you," he said, practically breathing out the last word.

She began walking frantically. "It's...um, it's a lot. Your world. And then the fact you seem to know things and are so far ahead in this game."

"It's not a game to me, Y/N," he said, watching her pace around the room.

She stopped by the bed and sat on it, finally able to look at him again. "Ok, bad word, but still," she paused and searched for the right words. "We have nothing to connect with...I mean nothing real."

Lando was not going to buy into doubts. His mind was set. Slowly, he walked towards her and sat next to her.

"Does it scare you? That you are tied to me basically against your will?" he asked the one thing he was afraid to hear the answer to. But he figured that the beginning was never suppose to be easy anyway.

"A little bit. Actually yes, it does," she said, in a strangely releaved tone and his heart sank just few stories lower. Lost in his own head, he nearly missed her giving up on sitting and landing on her back with a thud, eyes locked with the ceiling.

"I never liked being pushed into things. It's my life, I get to call the shots," she began to let her thoughts run freely.

"Choosing something that comes to you willingly does not have mean giving up your free will...I'd just like to at least give this a chance. I know already that I can't be your friend," he whispered, turned his look towards her and slowly lowered himself on his back as well, lost in his thoughts once again.

Lando's body laid still, but his heart was beating as if he was in the final quali lap. He had the advantage, drew the better card. Unique insight into another human's soul. Short cuts and few cheat answers for any test ahead of them. So why did it make him feel all the more lonely? He was reaching out, confused in the exact same capacity as she was, but she was not giving him much back. Yet. If was obvious. He was miles ahead of her, not thanks to his own doing. He could be there for her, but it would take some time and a lot of luck for her to be able to be there for her.

"Can you stay here? For the night?" he asked in a soft low voice, unable to hide his own vulnerability. "Not like, you know," he added immediately, hoping he comes off the least creepy as possible, "Just like this." Baby steps. He was praying for just that.

The body next to him also laid still in a very stiff manner, the exact opposite of relaxed. But the pull towards him was just too loud to resist. It was stronger than her. Curiosity tripped over the tiny fear inside her, grabbed the innate desire for human connection by the hand, and together opened the door for Lando to enter.

"Yes," she whispered, wondering if there is anything she wanted to add.

A small smile crept onto Lando's face. He got up and shot the light off. Both of them settled in a more relaxed pose, albeit still fully dressed. If by some miracle he manages to fall asleep, he will be waking up next to this magnificent, magical being for the first time. And hopefully not the last.

They laid next to each other, like the strangers they were, for few minutes, before she found her own little hand reaching out for his. Soft fingers mixed with his. At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. Lando's heart almost stopped, his breath caught in and resulted in gulp, too loud for the current setting. She could not help but smile and tried to hide it with pressing her lips together - even though it was dark night and both of them had their eyes closed. He mimicked her movements and traced her fingers as well. Every little place he touched burned with intoxicating intensity. He held her index finger lightly while she brushed up and down his thumb.

For the first time in years, Lando was careful. He'd rather lie next to her in silence than risking her wanting him to leave. The guilt from bruising her with his crash still hadn't left his mind. But when her hand crept more and more inside of his, he could not help but circle around it, until he was covering her hand completely. The air was still. Two scared souls discovering each other, tiptoeing around as if they were made of glass. Once Lando started drawing little circles on the palm of her hand, he finally felt her beginning to relax. He was still trying to get his mind wrapped around how the whole connection worked. Perhaps the more open she was to communicating with him, the more of a window he got. His next words slipped through without much of a thought.

"I've dreamt about you probably thousand nights."

Y/N could not recall the last time she heard a sentence that sounded so honest. Raw, it was almost childlike. She thought about her own countless nights when she slept alone and longed for a soul to crawl to. And also all those times she wasn't alone in the middle of the night, yet it still felt like eating someone else's dinner. The emptiness never truly filled. Hand never fitting someone else's like a well-fitted glove. Was there ever anyone who told her something like this before? Probably not. Of course not.

"I'm scared," she repeated.

"I know," he smirked for himself only. "I can feel it...But can you please tell me what's scaring you at this moment? I'd love to understand."

This time it was her who chuckled and squeezed his hand a bit. His heart once again beating so loudly he was scared she could hear it.

"I randomly meet this man, this devilisly handsome guy, who seems to know things I've never even told anyone, is hyperaware of my emotions, as if they were his own...How am I suppose to resist this?"

"Why would you?"

"If we proceed with this, I am basically allowing you to become a weapon designed to destroy me. If, or more likely when, I fall for you...How can anyone else ever top that? If you decide that you're bored with me, I'll quite literally only be left with bruises."

He listened to every word, as if it was a gospel, and this time took a second to calculate his response. Lando opened his eyes to try and see a glimpse of her face in the dead of night, only to find her already looking at him.

"As far as I remember, you were always a part of my life. The one constant that does not leave," he said and licked his dry lips. If she was becoming vulnerable, he'd have to do the same. "If I fuck this up, if you decide that I am not worth spending time with and if you walk away...I'll still be left with the glimpses. I'll have to watch from afar, knowing you don't feel this. Funnily enough, I'd argue that you have the option to choose. I don't."

"And do you even want it? Would you-" she tried to continue with her question, but he interrupted her immediately.

"Of course. Hundred times over. I know you're scared, but I am scared too. Because there is a perfect piece of puzzle right in front of me and if I fuck it up, I am ruined for life."

She only saw a small reflection of light in his eyes, but that was enough to understand he was serious. Her shoulders relaxed and she let a breath she didn't know she had been holding, out.

"Well, good to know you are a dramatic person," she responded, trying to lighten up the mood.

It worked, his small smirk entered the chat again. "Yeah well, get use to it," he said with a new found confidence, tried his luck once more and scooted over to her just a little bit.

"Sorry, there was a hard spot in the matrace," he said cheekily and closed his eyes, trying to play it cute.

His body heat radiated towards her. "Of course, a hard spot in this top-of-the-world matrace," she questioned his argument with a smile, his magic getting her head-over-heels.

"Yes, I'll complain with to the staff tomorrow, these things can really fuck up your sleep, you know."

"So true. And what, have you solved it now?" Another door opened. Lando smiled.

"Still not perfect," he remarked, pretended to have a moment to think and finally moved all the way next to her and put his arm around her. "Yeah, this is the only way I'm afraid."

She was glad his eyes were closed, because her smile was impossible to hide. Both of them were fully aware there is no hard spot on the matrace. "Of course it is," she commented, as she settled down in his embrace.

Her face was now settled in crook of his neck, her uneven breaths leaving goosebumps on his skin. His light stubble teasing her forehead. Once again, Lando was overwhelmed just how well she fit in his embrace. He had to actively try and breathe regularly, because he was anxious about giving away just how much he was enjoying having her in his embrace. Her hand was pressed against his chest and Y/N had to fight every cell in her body, because the urge to explore his body was overcoming her. Lando shifted a bit, having to to try and find a spot where his belt wasn't pressing on his body in a way that hurt. Immediately, he felt a sudden wave of guilt coming from her and she bolted straight up. Had he fucked it all up? He cursed himself, he should have just pushed through it.

He forgot to take in the fact she felt his pain. "What's wrong?" he asked shyly, as he also sat up to match her moves.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want to seem like I'm suggesting something, but can we get out of our daily clothes? I hate sleeping like that." Who would like that anyway, was the thought that crept into Lando's mind, but he kept it for himself, more than overjoyed that he didn't have to suggest that. "Sure, no problem."

"Do you have some t-shirt I could borrow?" she asked, turning on the light next to his bed, sitting with her back turned to him, perhaps trying to hide away. Lando tried his best not to get shaken up and loose his cool. This wasn't her running away and it was also not her suggesting anything.

"Of course," he said and got up to search up the best clean t-shirt her had. She took a deep breath as she tried not to stare, guessing by the sounds that he was getting undressed. But, as she did, she was happy he did not see her blush. Just like he did before, she forgot to take in account that he felt her sudden arousal and curiosity without having to look at her. For a change, he was happy he had his advantage. He peeked over to her, seeing her abrupt turn back. It was hard not to be amused by her.

"Here you go," he said as he strolled back over to her and handed her his t-shirt. "Don't worry, I won't look," he informed her and as the cheeky guy he was deep down, added his signature wink. "I'm sure there is an extra tooth brush in the bathroom, if you wanna join," he continued and walked over to the other side of the suite, hoping she was watching him walk around in boxers only.

Finally having some distance and a minute to contain herself, she carefully undressed, leaving on only her panties and his shirt on. Only then she noticed just how intoxicating his natural smell was. Knowing well enough she was doomed.

When Y/N finally joined him in the bathroom, he gave her the second toothbrush in silence and kept brushing his own teeth. It was refreshing seeing her in such an intimate setting. He tried as best as he could not to notice just how hot she looked in his t-shirt. Watching her in the reflection, he realized he never appreciated a moment like that with anyone else before. He smiled at her, because he could see her shy nature peeking through causing her hair behind her ear.

She was about to join him back in the bed when she saw him placed right in the middle of the bed, far from when was last time she approached him like that.

"It's the hard spot, there is no other way," he brushed over it nonchalantly and tucked himself in the bed. "Come on, here, here," he patted a spot next to him. In the dim light, with shadows only highlighting his toned chest, curly hair falling over to his eyes, innocent smile and opened arms, he was like a mystical creature created only to entrap Y/N. At least, that's how that felt. No way back.

She slipped in the bed with him, to the exact position as they were just minutes ago and turned of the light once again. This time, Lando was way more relaxed even Y/N noticed the difference. With each passing moment it was becoming less and less stiff or awkward. Comfort replacing natural stress of sharing a bed with a stranger for the first time. For a brief second, it was as if they'd done this every night before drifting off to sleep. Lando was happy to take things slow. Not expecting anything more. He was content with knowing she was not planning on leaving him there alone that night and that was enough. Not for Y/N. Her body was acting way before her mind could stop her. Her now warm fingers started drawing little stars on his exposed chest. It was peaceful. Until her finger moved a little lower. Another gulp from Lando. She felt him tightening his grip on her.

"Careful now...I might get the wrong idea," he breathed out for only her to hear.

Their lips were so riddiculously close, yet too far away. The only thing she wanted to do was kiss him. All restraint suddenly gone. But she needed to be sure - did he wanted to kiss her? If she dared to ask him, he'd laugh out loud at the obviousness of it all. Poor guy didn't notice her desire because he spent all of his energy trying to hide his.

She licked her lips. "Wrong idea...like sending me away?"

Loud sigh from Lando. "No..the wrong wrong idea," he whispered, being so close to her she could feel his soft breath, as he started to move his hard up her arm, under the t-shirt he gave her. She became very aware of the fact she was not wearing a bra, something Lando noticed the moment she came to the bathroom. His arm stopped momentarily at her shoulder. " Wrong idea that you want me to do this..." he continued moving his hand again, "...or this," reached up to her collarbone while pressing her closer to him with his other arm. "Or heaven forbid..." he whispered a question as his lips were nearly touching hers. Lando was too scared to make the first move, still afraid she might vanish into thin air.

She was brave enough to close the gap. "Or this." With that, she kissed him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

@ushygushybaby

[hazel-islivingtrash]

New chapter heading your way this Saturday!

Things seem to be getting better, but Satoru seemed a little... off last chapter. Find out what happens this week in the newest chapter!

I can't believe we're in the final five chapters off this fic :') it means so much to me and I'm gonna be real sad to end it, but that means new beginnings for new fics! Also, happy 4 months to From the Start officially being published on Ao3, can't believe it's already been so long.

Enough rambling, here's what you came for: This week's sneak peak! ❤️❤️

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Sneak peek of Chapter 21: Tell Me How to Breath In and Feel No Hurt (very slight spoiler warning)

Yuji and Megumi were walking down the stairs as he left the bedroom, awkwardly making, then avoiding, eye contact.

The boys sat down at the island counter and Suguru stood against it, his back to them, also awkwardly. Everything felt awkward. The tension in the air was thick with it.

He could feel their eyes on him, scouring over his body like little ants.

“Suguru?” Megumi said quietly, quieter than he ever heard the boy before. Suguru turned around, noticing how Megumi’s eyes were downcast and Yuji’s looked at him like huge saucers.

“I’m sorry,” Megumi said, “We’re sorry.” His little green eyes poked up at Suguru before jumping back down. “We didn’t know something happened. We’re sorry.”

“Yeah,” Yuji said next to him, nodding his head, “We’re sorry. Satoru told us yesterday something happened. We’re sorry.”

Suguru noticed Megumi’s facial features contort at the mention of Satoru’s “explanation” from the day before, twisting his gut with guilt. He made a mental note to talk to him about it later.

Yet, Suguru couldn’t help but melt against the counter, relief finally flooding his veins. “It’s okay boys, you didn’t know.” His eyes turned briefly to the hallway, where he could've sworn he heard a noise, but when Satoru didn’t appear moments later, he brushed it off. 

He took a deep breath, looking back at the boys before speaking softly, “I'm willing to tell you both what happened to me, if you’d like.”

Megumi’s eyes finally looked at him, a poorly masked curiosity seeping through them. They both nodded hesitantly, mouths slightly ajar.

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For those of you who are seeing this for the first time, welcome! If this intrigues you, it would be amazing if you could check out my fic! Updates are (usually) posted every Saturday around 3pm est!

Current status of fic:

Current status of fic: 20 out of 25 chapters complete, just over 124K words ❤️❤️

**The story is rated mature and with a warning of graphic depictions of violence.

[clumsy-jiminie]

ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

❝ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʜᴏᴏᴅɪᴇ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.7k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, angst without resolve, smut - marking, unprotected sex, creampie

↣ notes :: pretty pretty please don't let anyone treat you like this 🥺 small argument or not, there are healthy ways to communicate this type of insecurity 🫶🏽

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"I can see that look in your eyes, the one that shoots me every time you grace me with your cold shoulder."

- ᴄᴏʟᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅᴇʀ, ᴀᴅᴇʟᴇ -

Kiara stuffed her hands in her oversized hoodie pocket as her feet led her through the hustle and bustle of the city streets. The weather was getting more tolerable as they approached a new month in the year. But then again, you could have a full snowstorm in New York in the spring. She kept her outfit light today, as light as she could go without freezing: A hoodie, a pair of leggings, and a spring jacket. The sneakers on her feet were old—dirt and stains in the crevices while the laces started wearing out. Kehlani blasted through her headphones as she weaved through people. She missed the city dearly. There was something about the feeling here that was addictive. Everyone had somewhere to be—whether it was to a job that they hated or a job that they loved, to see a family member, to sell a hat, to shop until they created a debt, or to see something incredible. Everyone had a story, no matter how big or small.

Kiara's story led her to a quaint coffee shop. Tiny and modern, it is a perfect puzzle piece in the large-scale picture of Manhattan—the smell of dark beans roasting mixed with the semi-sweet scents of freshly baked pastries. Exposed brick and pipes gave the place an industrial feel, partnered with the greenery hanging from the walls. Furniture with dark wood and black metal legs contrasted with the grey concrete flooring.

Despite it now being a crowded place where teens and adults alike could get their daily fix of the dark liquid, she knew this place from its humble beginnings. Mr. Choi brewed a mean cup of Joe, and she would sip it during the early morning rush before class in college. She and her best friends practically lived in this shop during school. They were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. Mr. Choi almost adopted them, considering how often they were there. Jeongguk even got a job here at some point, figuring if he was going to spend all his time here, he might as well get paid for it.

They still gather here occasionally, especially on days like today. When Kiara arrived at the door, she pushed it open. A crowd greeted her upon entering. Most had drinks in their hands already but were struggling to find a seat in this small coffee shop. Kiara squeezed through the people until she arrived at her usual table. A seat by the window had her name engraved on it, and she slid into it with ease. She finally pulled off her headphones, greeting the midnight-haired girl across from her.

Samira glanced up from her tablet, her lips forming a wide smile as she chewed her gum. "Sup Ki."

"Not much. You doing wedding work?" She asked as she watched Samira write on the device while looking at information on her phone.

She nodded. "I gotta get these bouquet choices to Momo later today. I also gotta show her these swatches of blue." She tapped on her tablet several times before lifting it to show the woman.

Kiara stared at the four squares on the screen. Each blue was the same hue, but the tints, shades, and undertones varied. Her lips pursed as she examined the options. "I, personally, like the first one," she said as she leaned back. "It's soft and kinda reminds me of winter. Like how the sky looks on a clear day."

Samira turned the device back to her, staring at the color while she nodded. "See, this is why it's always great to have an artist as a friend." Kiara rolled her eyes while Samira chuckled. "Speaking of, anything happening with that? Are you close to buying that house like the sugar mama you are?"

Kiara's jaw dropped before she lifted her leg to kick the girl under the table. Samira laughed loudly. "I'm not a sugar mama!"

"Is he helping you pay?"

"…No."

"Then you're a sugar mama." Samira was always so blunt, and that's why Kiara loved her. It wasn't always jokes, but she would always call the girl out when she was being dramatic or wrong.

"Anyway!" Kiara exclaimed. "I had a client dinner last night."

”Ooh, tea time." Samira locked her table and phone, giving the other her full attention. "Was he hot? Was he single? You had a little fun last night?" She asked as she wiggled her eyebrows. She leaned in, resting her elbows on the table while holding her face in her hands.

Kiara's face suddenly grew hot, and she reached up to involuntarily cover her neck with her hand. She had forgotten about the hickey Taehyung had left on her for a split second, hoping the hoodie would've covered it for her. "No!" She said quickly, hoping Samira didn't notice the red staining her cheeks. But she did, causing a smirk on her friend's lips. "He was that same asshat from the gallery."

"Oh." Her smirk quickly faded. She scrunched up her nose with disgust as her shoulders dropped.

"And turns out he wasn't just having a bad day. He was actually just a dick. He called me a coward, then selfish! All because I would rather separate my painter life from my regular life." Kiara pouted at the end of her sentence, leaning back into her chair. It was still a fresh wound, making her rethink every choice she had made thus far.

Samira scoffed. "He obviously doesn't know you. In fact, if you ever see him on the streets, let me know. I'll beat his ass."

Kiara's eyes widened as she quietly chuckled. "What is with you and Kookie being so violent?"

"Don't act like you're not the same. Just because you're in a little relationship that has you acting all prim and proper doesn't mean I don't know the real Kiara and how she used to beat ass because someone looked at me funny."

Kiara rolled her eyes. "I was younger back then and clearly had uncontrolled anger."

"Yeah, sure," Samira smiled while shaking her head. "Speaking of JK, when is he going up?"

Kiara shrugged as she grabbed her phone, looking at the time. "You know he never gives a time for these things." Suddenly, the coffee shop roared with cheers, grabbing the girl's attention. They looked towards a small stage along the shop's farthest wall. "Speak of the devil," she smirked as the tall man approached the stage. He wore a black T-shirt with a pair of dark denim jeans. There was a silver chain that hung from his belt loops. Sitting down at the piano on the stage, he tugged a stray strand of his midnight hair behind his ear. A microphone was attached to the instrument, angled perfectly so the person could speak.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen," his smooth voice entered the mic and echoed through the establishment. Samira and Kiara locked eyes before covering their mouths to hide the giggles that quietly escaped. "This song is called 17, and I hope you enjoy it."

His fingers began to press on the white and black keys, combining the notes until they formed a beautiful melody.

"I would need a million words if I tried to define all the things you mean to me…." 

His voice was like laying on a cloud — soft and fluffy, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Everyone in the store was mesmerized; even those who came in solely for a beverage stopped to listen for a few moments. They always left with a broad smile after. Jeongguk's voice has affected people ever since he was little. Kiara couldn't help but smile as she watched her best friend do what he loved. He shut his eyes as he sang, tuning out everything around him until nothing was left but notes. Kiara felt like a mother watching her child's first performance. 

She knew everyone in that room fell in love based on their reaction when Jeongguk sang his last note. It was overwhelmingly positive. The audience overfilled the tip jar near the bottom of the stage with bills and coins. Jeongguk stood up with a smile so wide on his lips that his eyes crinkled, smiling along with him. He bowed as the crowd cheered for him, leaning down to grab the tip jar before walking off the stage. Women who were bold enough stopped and flirted with him as he passed through the crowd. All Jeongguk did was laugh it off and politely turn them down, leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him. He reached his usual table, dropping the jar onto the table with an obnoxious thud. He made the same sound as he dropped down in the seat next to Kiara, letting out a dramatic sigh.

The girls exchanged a look before watching as his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "God, it's so hard being wanted." The two burst into laughter as he grinned, opening his eyes to look at them. "So? What did you guys think?"

"Not my favorite song," Samira said with a smirk.

"It's a good thing I don't value your opinion," Jeongguk quipped before sticking his tongue out, causing her to mirror his reaction. After a moment, he turned his head to Kiara, waiting for her answer.

"You know I loved it Kookie." She smiled at him, making his heart skip a beat as heat rushed to his ears. She chuckled as she poked at his reddening skin with her finger, making his body scrunch up like a snail recoiling into their shell. "How long did it take to write this one?"

"Only a few weeks this time," he answered with a smile. His silver lip rings glimmered as he spoke.

Kiara's smile was still etched on her lips, leaning over to the man. The scent of fresh laundry with the faintest hint of cologne entered her nostrils as she cupped his jaw in her hand. She squeezed Jeongguk's cheeks until his pink lips puffed out, shaking his head from side to side a little. "Look at him, Sammie! Our little bunny boy is growing up so fast!" Jeongguk chuckled, trying to pull her hand away, but her grip was tight.

Samira grinned, reaching her hand out to join in the fun of playing with Jeongguk's face. Her hand replaced Kiara's as she pouted out her lips. "I know! We did such a good job raising our little bunny boy." She teased in a baby voice.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, pulling Samira's hand away from his face. "You know we're the same age, right?!"

The two girls glanced at each other before looking at the man. "And?" Kiara asked.

"Your point?" Samira added.

Jeongguk stared at them, shaking his head as he smiled. "You guys kill me." He reached into his tip jar, pulling out various bill amounts. "Y'all what something? It's on me."

The girls enthusiastically agreed before Jeongguk handed Kiara some money. She got their orders before standing up and walking towards the counter. She squeezed through the shoulders of random customers. Most waited for their drink orders, while others stayed for the atmosphere. Kiara hated crowded places like this. People had no respect for personal space or sense of how much space they took up. And because it's an establishment, she couldn't necessarily mow through people like she could on the streets. The crowd was less tight when she finally got closer to the counter. She sighed deeply, taking a single step before someone bumped right into her. She quickly felt something warm spreading from her chest to her abdomen, glancing down to see coffee all over her cream hoodie.

”What the fuck?!" She shrieked without taking a second to remember where she was. She reached for the napkins on the counter, frantically patting at her chest and torso.

"Oh my god, I'm so—" His eyes then met with the familiar golden skin Kiara possessed. He couldn't help the playful smirk that formed on his lips. "Well, doesn't karma have a funny way of working?" Jimin said, his words laced with smugness.

Kiara glared up at the blonde, huffing as she accepted defeat. Her hoodie was forever stained. "Eat ass, Park." His eyelids lowered at the girl. Why did his last name sound so unique, leaving her mouth wrapped in that annoyed tone? Maybe it was how she formed the noun—the light reflecting off lovely glossed lips as they parted to allow the syllable to roll off her tongue. It was intoxicating to watch. "You owe me a new shirt!"

His brows drew together as he tilted his head to the side. "Oh? If that's the case, I should send you my dry cleaning bill from last night."

"Fuck you, that was water!" She snapped at him. "And this is coffee! I'm never gonna get this out!"

His face remained unchanged despite receiving daggers from the girl. The most he did was shrug, causing her jaw to drop. "It wasn't that cute of a hoodie."

"What do you know about cute hoodies?!" She sounded a bit like a child, making the man chuckle softly.

"Enough to know yours isn't."

Kiara's eye twitched before she covered her face with her hands. She dragged them down her face, pulling gently at the skin as it relieved some of the building stress. She wanted to punch him in his nose. Or his mouth. Or anywhere on his body, in that case. He was such an asshole. The least he could've said was sorry. Maybe even offer to buy her a new hoodie. But no, even in moments where he was wrong, he still was an asshole through and through. "You are such a—"

"Woah, what the fuck happened?" She recognized Jeongguk's voice almost instantly. He stood beside her, staring at the massive stain on her shirt. Jimin eyed the new man, practically sizing him up despite the man being taller.

She inhaled deeply before sighing. "Nothing, nothing," she said as she shook her head. She wrapped her fingers around the man's tattooed bicep as she looked up at him. Eyes so big and round. Love, the blonde thought as he watched their interaction intently. How come she never looked at Jimin like that? But why did he want her to look at him like that? "Do you have a spare hoodie?"

The man looked down at her with the softest eyes, like she was the only person in the world to him. Jimin's brows furrowed again as he watched the warm smile form on Jeongguk's lips. "Yeah, of course."

She didn't need to say thank you; her eyes said more than enough. She then glanced towards Jimin, and for the second time, he witnessed that fondness instantly dissipating. Kiara's amber eyes were set ablaze once again. "Fuck you," she spat before Jeongguk led her away. They disappeared behind some door with a sign that read employees only. Jimin felt the same heavy feeling from before, sitting uncomfortably in his stomach. He didn't know why he wanted her to look at him with fondness so severely. She was annoying, a coward, a complete headache, and nowhere near his type. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before rejoining the line.

"He's such a fucking jerk!" Kiara groaned as she followed behind Jeongguk to the break room area. "Who the fuck spills coffee on someone and doesn't even apologize?!"

He stopped in front of his locker and opened it, grabbing one of the two hoodies that were inside. When working at a cafe with clumsy newbies, spare clothing is more of a necessity than a suggestion. "Who the fuck was he?" He asked as he tossed her the hoodie, and she caught it.

"The same dickhead from last night," she grumbled. She pulled her hoodie over her head, leaving her standing in just a red bra with an intricate white lace pattern. Jeongguk's eyes widened briefly before quickly looking up at the ceiling. Heat flooded his ears and over his face, as he tried to forget the image he just saw. "Like, first of all, what are the odds?" Kiara continued to rant casually as if she wasn't half naked. She pulled Jeongguk's black clothing over her head, slipping into the three times too big fabric. "Second of all, he's lucky I didn't fucking deck him."

Jeongguk's eyes finally returned to the girl once she was clothed again. "Wait, what? The guy from last night?"

Kiara nodded as she picked up her dirty hoodie. When she looked towards Jeongguk, he was suddenly gone. Her eyes grew wide as she ran after him. "Kookie!" She yelled as he walked through the door. She returned to the central part of the cafe, seeing Jeongguk glance around with his brows furrowed. She grabbed him, but that didn't stop him from scanning the room. "You're on the clock!" She whispered.

All Jeongguk did was suck his teeth. "Man's lucky I like my job," he continued to look regardless, "and I can't find him."

Kiara rolled her eyes before patting his chest, "You need therapy."

"You need therapy," Jeongguk taunted quietly as Kiara joined the line again.

Kiara said goodbye to Jeongguk, watching him pull off on his motorcycle before walking inside her house. She sighed heavily upon entering, her energy drained from today's activities. After the coffee shop debacle, the three decided to hang out at Samira's house like old times. Little did Jeongguk and Kiara know that agreeing to hang out meant helping her with wedding planning. The woman was so passionate and dedicated to her job that it was something to admire, but only from afar. Her apartment was a wreck, littered with pictures and business cards. Kiara knew Samira's seriousness about her job, but since agreeing to be Momo's wedding planner, she has gone off her rocker. She ate, slept, breathed wedding details, and dragged the other two into it.

As she kicked off her sneakers, she could hear jazz music blasting from the kitchen. "Babe?" She called out as her feet led her amongst the familiar path.

Soon, Taehyung popped his head into the kitchen archway, causing a smile on Kiara's lips. "Darling! When did you get home? I'm just about done with dinner." His boxy grin made her heart skip a beat. She soon joined him in the kitchen while he resumed cooking. Her arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her face into his back. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent mixed with fresh laundry. Taehyung chuckled softly, "Long day?" Kiara nodded, moving along with him as he acted like she wasn't currently attached to him. "Wanna talk about it over dinner?" She nodded again, releasing him once he picked up the plates. 

They sat at their small dining room table, peacefully munching their food. Kiara looked up at Taehyung, who focused on his plate. That same warmth swamped her system. She felt so happy with him. She loved this small house they called home. She loved coming home after a long day to see his smiling face. She loved how comfortable she was with him. She glanced down at her left hand, eying her bare ring finger. If only this were enough for him.

"So?" Taehyung started with a mouth full of food. She filled him in on the events of last night and how they bled into today. Taehyung's features remained blank until the end, where he raised his eyebrows and shrugged a little. "I honestly wouldn't put that past him. He's a little snobby."

"There's a difference between being a little snobby and a complete dick. Like, do you think I'm selfish?" She asked as she placed her fork down.

He shrugged again. "You have your moments, but I don't think it's like what he's saying."

"Exactly! Everyone is a little selfish; it's just human. But he's making it seem like I wanna keep everything to myself on purpose." She folded her arms over her chest as she leaned into her chair.

Taehyung glanced at her, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Is that a new hoodie?" He stared at the dark fabric covering her body with a red skull and crossbones decal in the center.

"No, it's JK's. He gave it to me after Jimin practically dumped his coffee on me."

"JK's?" He repeated to himself, almost scoffing as he nodded his head.

Kiara watched his reaction closely—how his body suddenly tense up and the corner of his lips pushed downward. She rolled her eyes before shutting them as she leaned her head back into the chair. "Don't start."

"Don't start what?" He chuckled, absent of any joy. "I just find it funny that you come home in his hoodie. He drop you off too?"

"Yes, he did. And it's just a hoodie, Tae. I didn't want to walk around with a huge coffee stain on me, especially in public."

"Samira didn't have anything?"

"No?" She snapped a little, raising her head and opening her eyes to look at him. Taehyung's eyes narrowed at her. "Why would Samira carry around extra clothing?"

"But he did? Or did he peel his own shirt off to give to you?" He laughed, running his hands through his slightly curled locks. "Shit like this always seems to conveniently happen to you. You come home with a piece of JK on you; whether it's his clothing or his smell, you were wearing his boxer briefs once!"

"Oh my god," Kiara mumbled while pressing her fingers to her temple.

"What was that?" Taehyung suddenly raised his voice. Her eyes met his, and just as she opened her mouth to respond, he lifted his hand. He used the gesture to silence her, and it did just that. The words died on her tongue, abandoned sounds running around in her head. "You know, this is getting ridiculous. If I had a girl best friend doing all of this with me, you would've flipped your shit a long time ago."

"Taehyung," she tried her hardest to remain calm. It would've been over if she raised her voice or said something with a hint of sarcasm. "I have been friends with this man for years now. There is absolutely nothing between us."

He scoffed loudly, "That's a likely story." He stood up from the table and walked over to the living room. Kiara sighed as she got up, following after him. She noticed he grabbed his leather jacket and a white baseball cap. He put the hat on to hide his midnight hair.

"Where are you going?" She asked, but there was no response. She rolled her eyes. "Taehyung," she reached out to grab his hand, but he quickly pulled away. He glared at her over his shoulder, making her step back. 

She hated it when he looked at her like that. Like she was something vile, it made every insecurity she had crawl out of the depths of her brain and take center stage. Taehyung slid on some shoes, grabbed his keys, and walked out the front door, slamming it behind him. Her body jumped at the noise, tears stinging her eyes as she watched him pull out of the driveway from her window.

"Fuck," she sighed softly, turning to the table to grab her phone. She frantically clicked on Taehyung's contact, which was sent to voicemail each time. The tears filled to the brim before rolling down her cheeks silently. She used the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe away the waterworks, the hoodie that caused this whole mess. She never understood why he got like this and flipped a switch with ease. It was always over the tiniest things, too. She sat on the couch, chewing on her nails as she repeatedly called the man.

Taehyung was gone for hours, and by the time he returned home, he found Kiara passed out on the couch. She had replaced Jeongguk's black hoodie with one of Taehyung's grey ones instead. He carefully removed his jacket and shoes before walking to the sleeping girl and sitting in front of her. He gently wiped away her smudged mascara, causing her to scrunch her nose as she started to awake. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and then her cheek. He gently persuaded her to wake up, her tired eyes finally fluttering open to meet his. There weren't any words exchanged between the two before he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was timid and soft. She followed his lead until she couldn't help but yearn for more of him.

The kiss guided Taehyung onto his knees, then to the couch with Kiara, where he found a place between her legs. Her hands ran up his arms, feeling his muscles subtly flexed underneath her touch. Within time, the kiss between the two grew heavier, his tongue gently appearing by grazing past her lip. She parted them just enough to let him in, their tongues gliding past each other as he pressed his hips into hers. Her hand traveled up to his head, where she swiftly pulled the cap off and tossed it to the ground. She ran her fingers through his soft hair, causing a soft moan to escape from his lips to hers.

He broke the kiss as his hand caressed her thigh. His lips found her neck, placing various kisses against her skin until her chest arched into his. And that's where he stayed, adding another bruise to her golden skin where the first one had barely healed. She moaned out for him, pressing her hips into his as she silently begged for more. He stuck his hand between their bodies, slipping his fingers underneath the fabric of her underwear. His middle finger found her clitoris with ease, gently circling it with the pad of his finger. Kiara tensed from his touch and then released. A chorus of moans parted from her throat as she tried to match the circling of her hips to his finger. 

After being satisfied with the bruise on her neck, he crashed his lips into hers again. Her hips bucked against his finger, making his cock throb in his sweatpants. He couldn't wait much longer, breaking the kiss once again. He pulled his hand out of her panties before swiftly sliding them down her legs. He didn't bother with taking his pants off, only pulling them down enough for his member to spring free. He aligned himself with her entrance, sliding his tip in between her lips to lube himself up before pushing forward. She sucked in through her teeth, her brows furrowing as she tried to get accommodated to his length. It stung a little, but Taehyung continued, slowly pulling his hips back and then forward again. As soon as Kiara's face relaxed, he increased his pace.

Her eyes shut as she moaned out for him, gripping his arm tightly as he stretched out her walls. He worked her into the couch, skin slapping together as he fell into a rhythm. He leaned forward, resting his temple against hers as he panted and groaned into her ear. She whined, her hands traveling to his back where nails dug into his skin through the fabric. The power of his hips increased, his tip pressing into her cervix until he suddenly bottomed out and stopped. She could feel him throbbing before he pulled out of her. There was a cool breeze on her lower region as he got up, pulling his pants back onto his waist. He sat down beside her, panting as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. She felt uncomfortably wet, scared to move in fear of pushing Taehyung's seed out and onto the fabric of the couch.

"I'm going to bed," he said before getting up. He walked towards the bedroom before disappearing from her line of sight.

Kiara's eyes were wide with shock, and she scoffed quietly as she carefully pushed herself off the couch. She grabbed her underwear off the floor and shuffled to the bathroom, where she cleaned herself up. She couldn't understand how, even after that, he could still be cold to her. What was the point if he was still upset? After her shower, she walked into the room and crawled into the space next to him, feeling more alone than before.

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[satcnus]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ       𝐒𝐘𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. ex-military widower ✖ runaway stray

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒. older protective male x vulnerable teen fem. widower x runaway. paternal elements within romance. male saviorism. size differences. opposites attract. ride or die. hurt, comfort, healing. v-rginity loss. dead dove do not eat.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! The following original fiction contains potentially triggering content, including: extreme age gap, homicide, child and spousal death, kidnapping, s-xual as-sault (background only), r-pe recovery, child abuse (background only), post-traumatic stress disorder and disabling mental illness, paternal elements within romance and and mild ddlg themes (clothing, nicknames). Read at your own discretion.

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐎𝟑 - EARLY RELEASE. 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑.

Overnight, the wind howled with the wolves, and the forest hushed. In this mountainous range, there was little to contrast oneself with. Yes, indeed, Reuven Aronov often ventured into the asylum of evergreens and found his body slowly, meditatively, ceased to exist. He would become breath and heartbeat and witness and nothing else. 

On mornings like this, where the unforgiving climate of this asylum offered just a bit too miserly a reprieve, Reuven would remember the sea, and its unending power, and the force of the waves. Insurmountable, and yet, pregnant within its density with lessons of relativity, and impermanence, and letting go . The water was, had always been, and would always be, his true sanctuary. A surrendering to the world and its forces. Speaking in hymns with its ebbs and rolls. See, he had had to learn that lesson as a young man—teeming with excitement for what was to come, and much too overzealous for his own good—the ocean was not forgiving; it was not exonerative. It demanded respect, in exchange for the continuum of his life. He and the water: combined they were symbiosis, in its most elemental form. 

Reuven was stood staring out at the lake, opaque with frost, wondering when its molecules would reanimate and return the ice to its fluid counterpart.  There was not much time left in this January. Just a few more weeks and he’d be able to strip himself of his clothing and baptize once again. 

His attention was only momentarily occupied with this recollection of sparkling water and rich green vegetation. Another storm was coming, this one predicted to be even more imprisoning than last night’s, and he would need to get more work done today to make up for it all. Especially now that he had another mouth to feed. There was this nagging, prickly voice in the back of his head, repeating some cruel mantra of his failure in fatherhood. How he would, by proxy, not be able to take care of this girl, either. That, somehow, the Earth would open upon its crust, and swallow her whole, right before his eyes. 

He threw down the blade of his axe more forcefully through the next chunk of wood. 

        The rest of the day meandered along, with him prepping the chicken coop to sustain the storm, and finishing up butchering that deer he’d killed the night previous. Meal times came and went, and he played this tango with the girl. The passing of a plate back and forth—like waltzing, hand on her hip, her’s on his shoulder. 

The day had not ended for him until long after dark had come, but there was that reward at the end of the tunnel: a bit of relaxation, knowing the second deep freezer was stocked with meat, and there would be enough firewood to heat the house, and the water heater, with some left over for the following days as well. And she—that stray girl of his in the guest room—was fed and resting.

It was on the third day that their half-removed tango faltered. 

Reuven was outside, shoveling a pathway through the eight inches of snowfall that the storm had brought. He’d been outside for hours. Long enough to redden his cheeks beneath his beard, and flush his nose and lips, and heavy his breaths. His jacket—that brown firehose-style garment he’d offered to the girl that night he’d picked her up—was crusted in its corners with snow. It clung to its zipper; it melted against his pockets.

The man was focused. Too focused to realize that at exactly 5:45 in the evening, he’d gained company. 

Unrealized to him, the girl was in his kitchen, tipped onto her bare toes, reaching up towards a cabinet shelf with all her might; reaching for the only can in the bunch with a pull-open top. Her glances had darted, every few seconds, to the door, through the kitchen window, and at his posterior silhouette, ever oblivious to her thievery. 

Was it thievery, truly, if he wanted her to eat? In Elnara’s mind, it was. Yes. Without a doubt. No matter the circumstances, no matter the raging appetite she had built over the past few days, and the small amounts of pudge beginning to fill out the bony structures of her figure, Nara could remember nothing but Hunter and Tyler and Poppy, and their jeers, and their abuse, holding her hostage with her own hunger. It all lay dormant, just barely concealed, beneath the heart-bounding composure of her flighty anxiety. 

She could remember nothing but the violence and the cruelty and how hungry she had been, and how quickly she had learned from her punishment that she did not deserve food. That food was a pawn in a game of chess. That her belly was meant to go hungry, and if she dared to behave otherwise, there would be hell to pay.

But being fed again had not only resurrected her appetite, but her drive as well. She felt more capable, more assured in herself, and it had taken her three hours of watching the stranger through her window to decide that she could get away with it. She had already snuck a shower while he was out there. Why not this too?

It was not as though her strange roommate had not been feeding her. Quite the contrary, he had been piling more and more food on the plate every time it showed up before her door. And he had even left her a pack of some sort of meat jerky that she’d chewed on all night, waking up every few hours from her hunger. This hunger was so much stranger than the hunger she’d grown used to. It did not settle in her stomach with a cramp, but was rather this mammalian, unconquerable need for more food. Like something, somewhere, was aching for more sustenance from the very depths of her existence.

Her hand was shaky as it prowled. Her target was a can of chicken and dumpling soup. Her fingertips were so close to being able to anchor onto its lip that she was convinced that if she could just… stretch… a *little bit* more… 

Her efforts were futile, but Nara was determined to knock it down, so she could go darting off back upstairs to her hiding place, and settle that need for carbs and protein. That primal part of her brain had finally won. The hem of that baby yellow t-shirt pulled up over the small of her back as she tried to jump while reaching. Of course, the stranger must have had the cabinets fitted to a height most comfortable for him, which was significantly less of an attainable reach for her. Last time she’d been to the doctor, before she’d ran away, they’d assured her she might still go through a growth spurt, and surpass the barely-five-foot height she was currently at. Suddenly being starved and sexually abused might have thrown a wrench in that whole process.

Still, Nara, at her core, had always held a certain bravery that defined her perpetuation. The willingness to walk away from home. To stab Hunter in the chest. To reach for a can of Campbell’s.

Perhaps that bravery was reckless. Perhaps it afflicted her in the same way that curiosity did cats. Because she had only just captured the can of soup, her victory exploding with quiet thrill in her chest, when the back door suddenly opened, with only a half-second of the doorknob’s turning to warn her that he was coming. 

Like fawn before headlights, the girl cemented. All input from her mind, screeching to run, sprint, book it , had no route to her limbs. Just as suddenly as he stepped into the kitchen, Nara became paralyzed from the throat down. Her eyes widened so automatically with the intensity of a fear reborn; her entire body began to tremble. No, it was not just a mental recollection of being thrown down by the chain on her throat and defiled so violently it’d made her entire body numb. It was the physical memory of it. She could feel Hunter’s grip, unforgiving, on her throat. She could feel his thighs, forcing hers open. She could feel that terror, that agony , in her chest, like it was all happening again.

She didn’t know how to stop it. She was suddenly sobbing, recoiled into the furthest corner of the inner counter, pressing herself hard into its butcher block edge. Nara was trembling from head to toe, tears darting hard and fast down her cheeks, as a stream of desperate, pleading apologies left her mouth. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” she wept, dropping the can of soup like it was a wad of cash and she was a bank thief. Her shaky, thin arms, automatically came up to protect herself, and in the same moment, she sank down against the lower cabinets, her chest falling into her bent knees, where she could curl up and ready herself for the assault. 

The violence of a hot flash of regret dawned upon her. And her breaths came in ragged, trembling just the same as her limbs and core, and she sobbed against their hiccuping tyranny over her body. 

Above her, the cabinet still hung open on its hinges, painting so clearly the evidence of her crimes. 

She sat like that, curled into herself, sobbing, for what felt like eternity. The purgatory before hell. The waiting room before eternal damnation. 

“Hey,” his voice, baritone, tender , cut through the pounding rush raging against her eardrums. “I’m—I’m not gon’ hurt you, sweetheart.” 

Her mouth felt tacky as she swallowed against her laborious breaths, and dared to peek up, from the safety of her cowering. He was still standing by the door, his palms lifted up her way. His boots were shiny with melting snow. His jacket, darker in splotches with the same. He was so much larger than she’d realized. Now, up close, she could see—she had been undeniably correct when she had assessed that she would not be able to fight back against him. His shoulders were broad and strong, and he carried a thickness to his musculature that widened his torso and legs and forearms. A horrible thought flashed into her mind, behind her eyes, of how easily he would be able to choke her and kill her. How horribly at his mercy she would be if he so decided to do the opposite of what he reassured her. 

Nara was wary to believe him. Only when he stooped down, with an assisting grunt, to grab that can of soup as it rolled his way, did her eyes flicker from his. Then they followed his stature right back up to those dark, brooding eyes. So clearly full of something , and yet it was all hidden away. 

“Were you hungry?” he continued. He spoke to her carefully. Like navigating around an IED. Carefully, thoughtfully, gently. “I was just about to come in and make dinner.” She stared into the deep, black pools of his irises. He did the same in return. “You can eat this soup if you want. I don’t mind. Not much of a meal though,” he tried, with a huff of a chuckle. Trying, desperately, to calm the girl’s anxiety. 

He watched as her shoulders fell, relaxing, slowly. She swallowed, and then nodded, carefully climbing back to her feet with the assistance of gripping onto the countertop. 

They watched one another carefully. As lions of different prides might, in the wild. 

She was still in Chedva’s clothing, Reuven noticed. The girl was so much smaller than he’d originally thought. Small enough that the shirt, a middle-schooler’s medium, hung loose about her frame. Her limbs were still trembling, ever so slightly, as she stood, hands interlocked in front of her belly.

It made his heart sink. In the same way, it brought forth a surge of anger, for whomever had done something so treacherous to her that she had reacted so intensely to his presence. And then, to not lose himself in it, Reuven quickly reprimanded himself; reflected on the ways in which she looked better . Healthier. Her hair was wet, her flesh was pinked. Her eyes were wide, awake, attentive.

Yes. She looked much better. “You’re looking healthier,” he commented, offering yet another smile. A bit forced. His eyes fell from hers as he did so. His palm found hold at the back of his neck. God, when had he become such an awkward man? He wasn’t sure how to do this—any of it. “Uh—I’m not sure if you have a preference for what you want to eat… I was gonna make some mashed potatoes. Maybe venison? Or, uh… I think I still got some turkey in the deep freezer?”

Nara stared at him, still wide-eyed, still holding her breath in short pauses. She nodded, wordlessly, and then tried her own voice. It came out of her strained. Small. Pitiful. To Reuven—stronger, smoother, less worn. “Yes,” she whispered, before clearing her throat. . “Yes—um—either is fine.” The truth was that she had never even heard of venison, and she wasn’t sure what kind of meat it was, but she was grateful for whatever he would give her. 

Still, Nara felt this blaring chorus of gut feeling behind her every nerve ending. Her apprehension to be around him was palpable, and she could tell he could feel that emanating off of her. The truth was that this was all very confusing and bewildering for Elnara. She had gone from being chained up to a stake in the desert to almost dying on the side of the road in the snow and now… standing in front of this strange man, who embodied everything she should be afraid of. And he was telling her he was going to… make them dinner? Asking her what she wanted to eat?

She had not had the opportunity to eat so freely in so long, she couldn’t remember what it was like to even have a craving or choose one food over another. For Nara, her starvation dictated what she ate—which was everything. Anything. Anything at all.

Reuven moved slowly in his approach towards the sink, pulling up the sleeves of his flannel to reveal deeply hardened forearms hidden beneath a layer of dark hair. His hands, alone, were large enough to fit around the circumference of her thighs, surely. She readied herself to run, taking automatic steps back and away from him as he got closer, until he was washing dishes in the sink, and she was staring at his back, not a few feet away, silently watching him. 

She wasn’t sure why she was still rooted there. Whether it was some innate, yet unrealized feeling of safety with this man, or whether it was purely out of the fear of what would happen should she defy what he outlined as their agenda for the night, she could not be sure. All she knew was that when he had his back turned to her, she felt just minimally more relaxed than when he was facing her. 

“Alright. Venison and potatoes it is,” he commented. His voice had this edge to it. Like he was uncertain of the words that were leaving his mouth. 

Reuven wasn’t sure why, but he felt this pressure to make a good impression. Now that she was finally out of the guest room, and out in the open, he wanted to make sure she knew she could trust him, and that he had no intentions of harming her. He wiped at his forearms with a small towel, and turned a knob on the six-burner propane stove. It clicked three times before a flame burst to life. Its light was quickly hovered by the base of the slick black cast iron that was sitting on its rear counterpart. 

“Do you, uh… you got a name?”

Do you got a name? What kind of question is that? He chided himself internally. A small, dejected scowl graced his features for a moment as he slapped a tab of butter into the pan from the edge of a butter knife. 

Behind him, Nara was still standing, still staring, boring a hole into the musculature of his back. It was a long moment before she spoke. In that moment, she frantically pondered over whether or not to lie to him. Ultimately, she decided that telling him her real name would fare better than an alternative. At least, if he were going to violate her, she wouldn’t have to withstand the humiliation and disrespect of being mocked with a different name than her own. 

“Nara,” she murmured. “Elnara.”

Elnara. 

It was a beautiful name. His great-great grandmother’s name had been Elnara. 

“Reuven,” he answered back, with a clear of his throat, as he reached for a knife from its block, and began roughly chopping fresh thyme and rosemary. 

There was another long silence between them. 

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but…” his joke fell flat, and even he couldn’t find humor to anchor to within it. In the cast iron, the butter sizzled until it grew tan and fragrant. In a steel mixing bowl sat two servings of frozen deer meat, thawing amongst cool water. Beside the cast iron, he’d filled up a large pot with the same, and was slowly bringing the potatoes to a parboil. “Is… is your fireplace out of wood?” he asked, to her quiet surprise. He cared about the fireplace in her room being full? Nara’s eyebrows pulled inward in her confusion. Her captors had never cared about whether she was too cold or too hot. She was left to suffer against it, no objections allowed.

She hesitated to answer, but then remembered how Tyler had once grabbed her face so forcefully his nails dug imprints into her skin, because she did not answer a  question of his promptly.  “Yes.” Nara felt like she was watching herself interact with Reuven from outside of her own body.

Reuven wanted to prompt her, on why she hadn’t told him or given him some sign that she was cold up there, but thought better of it. Surely that would only come off accusatory, and not with all the care it truly held behind it. He was not socialized enough anymore to level out his tone. It held this dry bite to it, that often rubbed others the wrong way, and he hadn’t given even a single fuck about that until just right then, when it became imperative that he was able to soften the edges of his tone to convey what he truly meant with his words. Instead, he offered a solution. 

“Once we’re done with dinner, I’ll come up and refill it.” He paused, remembering that it may perhaps be upsetting to be told what he was doing. Surely, with her reaction earlier, somebody had to have reigned unjust power over her at some point. “If that’s okay,” he added, and behind him she spoke another small yes .

The rest of the cooking went forward with much the same tension between them. This awkward, uncertain waiting. As though each was anticipating the other to do something betraying. Reuven, anchored to this lost feeling of nurturing, less so. Still, by the time the food was plated, they still hadn’t spoken another word to one another. 

He cleared his throat as he set down her plate on the dining table pushed up against the far wall of the open-space kitchen. She watched him, from the same spot she’d stood in while he was cooking. He took a heavy seat down into the wooden chair; it creaked beneath him, as he an automatic groan against the pressure releasing from his aching knees. Beside the two plates were two sets of cutlery, two tall glasses of ice water, and some paper towels masquerading as napkins. 

So quickly, numbly, did she fall into this sort of obligatory submission to him. Just like she had with Hunter. In Nara’s mind, she was still under the trio’s cruel rule. Not allowed to speak unless spoken to. Not allowed to sit until told to. Not allowed to eat until given permission. 

His eyes found hers again, seeking, as she stared in patient waiting back at him. Reuven was confused for the first half of the moment, unsure why she wasn’t sitting down, and then he pieced two and two together, cleared his throat, and gestured, gently encouraging her to take a seat. “You can… you can sit down. It’s okay.”

She did as she was told, and then sat, with her legs crossed beneath the table, her shoulders tense and tugged inward, as if unconsciously trying to protect herself. Again, she waited, staring his way with big, doe’s eyes. Even despite the resurgence of her painful hunger against the horribly inviting smell of warm meat and gravy mashed potatoes. 

He had already begun to eat, and she glanced at his lips, moated by a long dark, graying beard, longing to do the same. 

Reuven spoke through his chewing, his tongue swiping at his lips. “You can eat,” he reassured, his chest aching with something akin to pity but not quite. Why was she so afraid to eat? Why did she need his permission? He cleared his throat, glancing back down into his food, if only to avoid her eyes. “Please. I’ll be offended if you don’t.” It was delivered casually, and he meant it as such, but with the hopes that she would eat if not for herself, then for him. 

Nara did not resist. In fact, it took her several ravenous bites to realize how she must look to him, and start to back off with a blooming red embarrassment in her cheeks. He must have thought her an animal. 

Much to her relief, he seemed to eat just as quickly, though not with the urgency her own eating held.

“Can I have more?” she asked, quietly, when her food ran out much sooner than she might have liked. Even this mere question was a mountainous act of courage on her part. She had never dared to ask Hunter for more food. Strangely, she didn’t think Reuven would hurt her for doing so. 

“Sure,” he responded, his tone restraining back some small delight at this progress in her eating. It took no hesitation for him to rise back to his knees, with another small grunt, and refill her plate high with the last of the mashed potatoes, and generous spoon-scrape of gravy from the bottom of the cast iron. 

Something strange—dazing—had come over Reuven. He could not comprehend it, much less articulate it, but it felt distinctly nourishing . The context clues of Chedva’s clothing, the young girl, her bashful countenance, the act of making her dinner. It all amounted to some swell of comfort in his chest. The same comfort he felt when taking care of his babies. 

“Do you got somewhere to go? Somewhere you want me to take you?” he asked, watching her casually as she ate. Her cheeks puffed with the spoonfuls of mashed potatoes; her pout glistened with saliva. 

A defeated look struck her chocolate brown eyes. And she shook her head. Then, after swallowing: “Nowhere.” The word hung heavy in the air. There was nowhere she wanted to go back to. Nara couldn’t even imagine returning to her father’s home, no matter how much she truly did desperately miss her siblings. And she certainly would rather die than go back into those deserts. No… it seemed she had no home anymore. And she hadn’t for a long, long time. 

Reuven nodded slowly, dissecting what that meant. And then, he gave her a gentle, supportive half smile. “We’ll go down to Neilton tomorrow. Get you some clothes. Check out the shelter. I think they take priority for women and children.” He traced the silhouette of her face with his gaze, lingering upon the delicateness of her nose, and the muted freckles that lived across its bridge. The rosiness of her lips. The plumpness of her cheeks. She was looking so much healthier. So, so much healthier. The man felt relief iron out all the lingering tension in his chest.

A shelter didn’t sound too bad. At least she could maybe get a job somewhere close in that town he’d mentioned, and have a bed to go back to. Not nearly as bad as sleeping in freezing cold sand. “Okay,” Nara nodded, chewing again, and feeling oddly relaxed. So much so that she didn’t realize it until just then, when he spoke of leaving this little island of solitude. Her heart jumped in her chest again, only at the prospect of leaving the safety of this cabin.

Safety.

Was that what this feeling was? This warm, placating blanket around her shoulders? 

Nara looked back into Reuven’s eyes, finding solace there, and anchoring to it. 

Yes. 

Yes it was.

[fiction70]

It's HERE!

The fic I've been working on has finally been published! It's not finished, unfortunately, but kind, chaotic people of the internet, I ask you to please stick with me on this one! All I ask for those who casually scroll by this post is to just read the summary and see if it intrigues you, that's all!

Thank you so much!

And for those who are coming from ao3, hello! It's wonderful to meet you! I eagerly look forward to hopefully providing more content for you all!

(And obviously, for those who were guessing the ship I hinted at in the previous post, guess no further! The ship is Bowuigi :D!!)