#and Golden Heart of a Water Lily

[punk-in-docs]

A song of rage and salty waves: part I

— Emperor Geta x reader (Salacia)

— 2.5k words

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Summary; You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! some dub con/ threat/violence/basically forced marriage/forced smut situation/Geta is such a vile human being/Macrinus is villain sorry denzel ily

You’re imprisoned in Rome.

You certainly didn’t come here of your own free will. Your father had tugged you here from Corsica. Employed clever charm with letters and schemes from his high position in the senate.

As the role of your sex; you were born to obey.

He sent you imported silken stolas the colours of cornflowers or lazurite, with gold fibulae at the shoulders. Gem inlaid jewellery, rings to decorate every finger, and earrings the sway. A golden net for your hair. Wheedled you into coming to join him. Sending servants to travel with you and take heed of your every comfort.

He made sure you dined on plump fresh fruit. Seafood of lobsters and crabs. Drank wine so rich dark it looked black.

You despise it. The stone pillars and temples. And gods of old. Eyes watch you everywhere. See you. Follow you.The governing heat and noise and sweaty heaving mass of all forms of life.

You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa.

Salacia. The ocean nymph and the being of your name. Crowned with seaweed in your hair. Sea foam dripping off your fingers. Ripped from your home, an isle by the sea, at the whim of another.

Imprisoned here in this cold marble city. A fish out of water. Gasping dry on the shore.

Pulled inland and stolen away. You can’t hear gulls or waves anymore. It sickens you. Heart pangs that throb for home.

When you arrived, pulled back your folded palla down to your shoulders. He welcomed you with open arms and fondness. Wrists linked in gold cuffs. Tugged you to his chest and embraced you warmly. Hissed in your ear - abrasive like harsh sea spray - spies are everywhere.

He needed you close by. For reasons you had yet to fathom.

You dined like spoilt deity’s. Breads and wines, fish, fruits from far regions fattened by the suns heat, and succulent meat roasted in sweet cassia spices on a spit.

He had urns of flowers - picked by the servant - placed in every room. Lilies, juniper branches still bearing dark fruit, lavender, oleanders.

Companions join him and he is boastful of you. A nubile creature offered placement at a table of old muddled men. He introduces you to trusted friends and advisors in the senate.

One man in particular takes keen interest as to your recent arrival. His name was Macrinus. Man of information and resources. Dealt in cunning and cruelty though you found him sincerely charming. Your father watched you with a desperate eye.

Macrinus bore a smile so dazzling and blinding it made you dizzy; made think of the sun god. Apollo and his light cast across golden wheat fields. Notes of fine music. He sipped his wine slow, as he learned the flavour of your name. Where you came from. Understanding the rolling sea foam in your veins.

There’s a game to be held at the coliseum. He will have your father as his guest - and you by a very pretty extension. He nods at you; his eyes glimmer like pooled liquid gold in the half lit dark. It almost makes you feel safe.

They dine and drink into the small hours. Yet you slip away.

You watched this awful city out your window that night in your silk dress the colour of night time tidal waves. The air is stale. Carrion to you. Hot. Full of dust and sweat. Here, It smells like mulberry trees and a green garden waiting for blessed rain.

You couldn’t hear the sea. Or your sisters. Your mothers humming as she wove cloth and mended clothes. And you wept.

Salt found in your tears to be your only sacred comfort of home.

~

You are soft to this hard stone city. The coliseum is magnificent. As large as it is those who hold their powerful fists over its rule. Clutched in gold. Fine for the rich. Deadly for the slaves and warriors thrown into the pit at the whim of others. Met with carnivore teeth and sand and death.

The senators, generals, and the rich merchants watch from their perch, up among the gods they serve, presiding in shade and clothed in perfumed silks and jewels. Ladies and men both.

Your hair took hours to fasten in its current coiled style. Plaited and weaved. Your dress is the colour of the softest blue shore. Your servant lavished your arms and fingers in golden finery. A serpent cuff coiled around your arm. Skin draped in lemon oil because it’s the small piece of Corsica you carry here with you. Serenity to push against this place of gore, butchery and death.

You find yourself seated here amongst giants. Macrinus is seated one side. Your father the other. He fondly lays his hand across yours in gentle touch.

His palm is damp. Gold rings wet.

His face looks haggard with age. The lines by his eyes more prominent. Rome is poisoning him. The golden apple just a fingertip shy of his reach. St Bartholomew flayed and stripped of skin piece by piece. Schemes and plots lay thick in his mind like rot. Sweat beads down across his brow and the thinning salt pepper of his hair.

He says something to Macrinus that you’re too absorbed to hear. It’s low. Dragged through a growl. He appears unmoved, with a slow flick of his eyes to you. Watching this finery and loudness devour you. Your eyes so full wide and round. Salt and innocence entwined.

You all rise when the emperors pass by, Geta and Caracalla, who stride in, garbed in gold and cloaks. Come to take their rightful place at the mouth of the box where you are seated.

They are like twin suns to the Roman people. Lion gold hair kissed by fire. They burn and twist and shine with it. Make noises like gold coins that clack when they move. Strung in riches and golden crowns of olive leaves and branches.

Together they make you think of Romulus and Remus. Raised rabid by wolves. And they certainly make an impression. You’ve heard tale of the voracious nature of the blood sport they all but live for. Faces limned in the glory of gore.

The crowd cheers for them. They nod and wave but it appears barbed. The games begin with a wave of applause and a regal hand.

Caracalla twists and casts an eye in your direction. Seeing new meat.

The way you sit sedately and can’t cast your mind into the butchery and violence happening below. The clash of steel. The hollow squelching cries that proceed death. The spill of viscera and the scatter of brain matter from split heads.

Each new gash or split in skin made them smile. The taint of blood. Metallic sour. Spilling of offal and exposed bone.

He tilts his head like a clever wolf. Eyes darken. His sneer as terrible as a skulls. He leans across and whispers something to his brother with a knock of his arm to gain attention.

Another set of wolfish eyes join the first in hooking to your skin. Silly soft girl. Made of gentle sea breezes and lapping blue waves calm and soft enough to wade in. Pearl shining in moonlight. So watery and weak. So good. Untouchable.

Geta swept his gaze on you from head to toe. Appraising you hungrily through greedy eyes. The beauty of your figure in that soft folds of that stola. The gold that crushed your neck. Broaches at your fair shoulders. Hair glistening and finely arranged.

He liked the way you winced when another sword blow came. The pull of your brows and how you had to look away. He wanted you gathered up in his lap; fingers crushing your jaw as he turned your head; force you to watch as the men cleaved at each other and drew blood. Hacked off limbs. Laugh at your revulsion.

Looking at you sat there; He has an urge to take his dagger, slit that fine silk from your shoulders and bare your real beauty. Grab it off you and snatch your dress down. Spoil himself on your curves. Grab your breasts. He’s sure you’ve tits that even a goddess would envy. He’d reel you in by grabbing your ass that definitely needs a spank and some attention.

You’re even prettier than some of the finest whores he’s had grace his bed. They never kept his interest too long. Too entwined in filth and sin like him; you look pure as a vestal virgin.

He likes that. He wants to pluck it off you and spoil it.

You don’t dare meet his eyes. Of course you don’t. He’s an emperor. He could have you executed for looking at him wrongly. Instead; you wring your hands in your lap and squirm. Close your eyes tighter with every dying wail.

He turns back to the fight. As do you. A gasp flies from your mouth when you draw your eyes to one of the measly soldiers in the arena. Your father left his seat to stand, mouth gaping.

You saw the familiar arrangement of strong limbs. Garbed in warriors clothing. The way his arms shook holding a sword. Inexperienced and struggling. The fight was not fair. The same head of hair that matched your own.

Your oldest brother.

Macrinus grinned. “He’s not my finest fighter. But I wager he’ll be good sport.” He smirks.

Your father turned, cursed the gods, and exploded with venomous rage. Flew for the man with his fists. Grabbed his clothing. You tried to restrain the storm of his temper - but then you’d got that trait from somewhere hadn’t you? - an ocean thrashing wild and free. Terrifying in its rage.

“You promised me.” Your father roared. Spittle flying.

“I never promised to protect your traitor of a son. Let us see if the gods spare him. Yes?” Macrinus commented.

You couldn’t take your eyes from the pit. Nor could your father. He clutched to you like he could barely stand. Weakened and shrinking. Hand a vice on your shoulder. It burned like the sting of sun but you couldn’t shrug him off.

Your brother was meeting with an opponent far larger than he was. A Retiarius. Helmet, trident, dagger and a net.

Of which had currently knocked your brother to the blood dusted dirt. Spearing the trident deep into his thigh. Pinning him to earth like a bug. His cry of pain ringing out. Blood sheeted down one side of his head. His scream is the most horrible thing you’d ever heard.

You can’t help it. Where you’re stood, you cry out. It pours forth from you.

The Retiarius loomed over your bother like a terrible storm cloud. Looking up at the stands for direction. The whole audience cheered and screamed for more.

Geta stood up and the crowd bayed. He sneered at the sight before him. All the power of a god; crammed into a mortal man.

He raised his arm. And hesitated for a moment. Before he smirked. And pointed his thumb right up.

Death.

Your father wailed. The huge lumbering gladiator descended onto your brother. Flinging the net off and cutting his throat in one fast slice. Blood poured and pooled around lifeless eyes. Stained the sand.

Macrinus stood to his feet and clapped along with everyone else. The emperors’ laughed like hyenas at the sight. Blood and pain only made their smiles grow.

Before you knew what was happening, the palace guards had you and your father surrounded. Hands viced around your arms. Your shoulders. Your father too.

Traitor. He decried. A traitor in the senate. The tarpeian rock.

Just like his now dead son. People’s poised against the glory of Rome. Against Caracalla and Geta. Death to all.

Macrinus spoke harshly to the guards to release you. He backhanded you across your cheek. Your eye felt like it was going to burst. Cheek flamed with fire. Lip cut and bleeding down your chin from his ring.

He then wasted little time in digging his fingers into your finely done hair. Hauled you along screaming. Tears streaming.

Your father could only watch, limbs wrenching forwards in terror to help, as Macrinus marched you across the stands to where they sat.

He threw you to the ground like a feral animal. Tumbled you onto your knees. Skimmed your hands. As you squirmed and cried at your body twisted to his cruelty.

“Your majesties. I have personally uncovered a traitor in your court. Senator Aurelius. Not only was his first born placed in rebellion against Rome. But he himself has been sowing seeds of treason in your senate. I bring you his filthy kin as recompense…” He spat at the Emperors. Releasing your mussed hair to throw you to their feet.

They examined you as one would a creature. Nothing of humanity left. Devoid of any feeling. You crawled slowly to your elbows. Tried to claw away sobs. Raising up but not daring to look at them. You weren’t worthy. You feared them.

Geta was the one who rose slowly to his feet. Coming to stand before you. “We are most grateful for your revelation, Macrinus. You will be rewarded for such loyal service.” Though he spoke to him, his eyes never left you.

You father shouted and cried pleas. They go unheard. He snaps to the guards who hold him. “Silence that treacherous snake-“ he barks. They beat him into submission.

You stay cowering on the ground. In amongst the gritty dirt, and the blood like those slaves and gladiators. That’s how they saw you. That’s how much you were worth. Held in the same regard as the dirt on their shoes.

You feel a ring clad hand tip a finger under your chin. Blood dripping down onto that digit as he made you raise your head to look at him until your neck hurt.

“What is your name, pretty little traitor-“ He sneers. Because that is all you are. They’ve tarred and feathered you with the same brush.

You give it to him through tears that run freely. You give this awful golden haired emperor with dark lecherous eyes your name.

“Salacia.” You cry. Voice watery and cloaked in heavy salty sobs. Lips parted. So soft and pliable. Lovely and ripe and waiting for him. A gift from the gods-

He tilts his head down at you. Looking like some sun gold lion. Showing his canines in a cruel white smile.

“Imprison them. Both.” He smirks.

He thinks he may have them bring him your fathers head on a platter. Strangulation seemed too soft. Too forgiving. He had to make an example of you.

He had a particular way in mind for your fate. He watched you get led away crying as he sucked your sweet blood off his thumb.

You tasted like salt and sea foam

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people—

@indouloureux @trashmouth-richie @atabigail @lunatictardis @waywardrose @ceriseheaven @hillarymurray4 @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @morganamoonstone @gvtosbith @munsonswhore @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @harrys-titties @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @ddejavvu @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[gloomwitchwrites]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader BDSM AU

Chapter Specific Warnings: swearing, brief mention of alcohol, brief discussion about boundaries, brief mentions of sex

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Part One of A Brute, Brute Heart

At a BDSM social, you meet a handsome tattooed stranger.

Chapter Two

ao3 // main masterlist // a brute, brute heart masterlist

The business card in your hand is worn at the edges. The frayed paper is not from years stuffed inside a wallet but from your constant fiddling.

A nervous habit—one you can’t seem to shake.

Anxiety is like a leash, nearly choking.

But that isn’t right. It’s not exact.

Unraveling is a better word. More concrete and profound. That it how you feel after all—stuck between forging ahead and fleeing completely.

This is brand new to you—treading forward into a community you know nothing about except what you’ve read in fiction. The unknown is a clear warning sign for your anxiousness, and for that constant fiddling.

An acquaintance handed you the card.

An offering, they said. An invitation.

This is but a social event. Clean. Simple. No expectations other than making connections. But you know little about the BDSM community. You have ideas of what to expect and what might occur.

For one, this isn’t a sex club. It’s no orgy. The acquaintance emphasized that there would be absolutely no sex which is why they gave it to you in the first place. This card—this frayed thing that’s close to tearing—is only an invite. A way in.

It’s you that has to make the connections.

To find someone who is willing to take on a newbie.

You absently rub your thumb across one of the flat sides of the card. Beneath your thumb is a textured “admit one” in gold lettering. Underneath that is a series of numbers—ten in total. The card itself is black which only makes the golden print more vibrant. On the opposite side of the card is a symbol of two hands grasping each other as if in a handshake.

Strange. New. All of it.

An omen, perhaps. For good or ill is yet to be determined.

Taking a deep breath, you attempt to steady your nerves.

“You’re fine,” you whisper. “You won’t know unless you try.”

Toying with the idea of BDSM is far different than dipping your toe in. Fiction is detached from reality. The truth might be there but it is often skewed for the sake of plot. You can’t rely on romance novels to teach you anything.

Anxious—yes. But also excited. Eager.

Before you stands a stone building. It’s grey, and water-soaked from the morning’s thunderstorm. Completely plain and unassuming on the outside, but within holds your future.

Steeling your resolve, you enter through the main doors, stepping into a small foyer. Beneath your feet is solid dark wood and the walls are a deep green. On the outside, it looks like all the other buildings on the street. But inside, there is nothing plain about it. The interior feels entirely residential, as if you’ve walked directly into someone’s home and not a business.

Directly in front of you is a table covered in black cloth. Behind it sit two people on one side. Before each of them is an iPad on a standing dock. The rest of the table is dotted with nametags.

You approach with a smile, presenting the black card. Glancing at the blonde who takes your card, you read the nametag.

Sarah, it reads. She/her.

Sarah’s blonde hair is pulled back into a soft bun. Her clothes are casual, revealing nothing about what might be further inside. Scanning the numbers on the card, she enters them on her iPad.

“Is this your first time?”

It’s the person sitting next to Sarah that speaks, drawing your attention in that direction.

Lily, says the nametag. They/them.

Unlike Sarah, nearly every inch of Lily’s bare skin is tattooed. Their makeup is exaggerated and detailed—a stark contrast to Sarah’s fresh face.

“It is,” you affirm. “This is…new for me.”

Lily smiles. It’s a genuine, comforting look that instantly soothes some of your anxiety.

“Welcome,” they say. Lily glances over at the nametags, lip pouting slightly as they look over each one. “Here we are.” Lily snags one off the table and presents it to you.

Your name is on it.

“This is yours.” Lily points to a smaller table just off to the side. “Over there are different stickers in various colors. Pick one. Or several. Whatever might give others an idea of who you are and what you’re looking for.”

“Thank you,” you reply, stepping to the right to get a closer look.

There is a small plastic stand on one end with a paper insert. On it are different round stickers no larger than a pencil eraser. Next to each sticker is a label. As you step closer, you quickly realize what they are.

There are options for bratty subs, switches, and different types of play. You scan every one, considering the options. A twisting sensation seizes your stomach. It’s too much information, and you aren’t sure what to do.

Going over them again, you select the safest one.

Sub looking for dom.

Attaching the sticker to your nametag, you add your pronouns to the bottom left corner.

“Fair warning,” says Lily, as you turn back in their direction. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—claims to be an ‘alpha’ or a ‘real dom’ you fucking run.”

Sarah leans forward a bit, nodding. “They’re vultures,” she says. “Only looking for their next meal.”

With their pointer finger, Lily makes a swiping gesture in front of their chest. “They don’t respect boundaries.”

“Or safewords,” adds Sarah.

“They are looking to abuse you and move on.”

“Do not interact,” finishes Sarah. “Don’t even entertain them.”

You swallow, the salvia catching in your throat. You cough before answering. “Got it. Thank you.”

Sarah waves her hand dismissively. “Not trying to scare you off,” she laughs.  “There are lots of wonderful doms.”

“And there are plenty just inside,” smiles Lily. “Have fun.”

With a shy smile, you incline your head, walking past their table and entering through the double doors directly behind them.

You’re immediately submerged into woodsy comfort.

Just like the foyer, the space feels like someone’s home, and yet it’s far too large to be a living room. It might have once been a meeting space of some kind but you can’t tell from its current transformation.

The space itself is divided up with some sections walled off to give the appearance of rooms where there isn’t. The flooring and walls are the exact same as that in the foyer. All of the furniture and decorations appear pulled directly from an antique shop. It’s a bit maximalist, like a wizard’s home full of organized clutter.

People mingle everywhere. They stand in corners and lounge on plush sofas. At the far side of the room is a massive bar, and beside that is a decent display of hors d'oeuvre. You didn’t pay for this, but it’s clear that the person who handed over the card did.

Heading toward the bar, you select something and begin your first sweep of the room.

Understanding all the different stickers is difficult. You find yourself glancing at the reference sheets placed sporadically around the room. It’s taking all your attention, and because of that, you don’t notice the man standing next to you until it’s too late.

“Hello.”

You almost drop your drink as you spin around.

While he’s pleasant in the face, there is a smarminess about him that you don’t particularly like. Maybe it’s his smile or the way he carries himself. Something isn’t right about him.

You glance down at the nametag.

Lance. He/him.

Lance? Like from Pokémon? You nearly snort.

Instead of engaging, you decide on a quick exit.

“Sorry,” you laugh. “Wasn’t paying attention.” You lift your cup and shake it slightly. “Need a refill.”

As you step away, he matches your step. “Allow me.” He reaches—actually fucking reaches—for your cup. You’ve been here all of ten minutes and someone is already up your ass.

No. Fuck this guy.

“That’s kind of you,” plastering on a fake smile that feels more like a grimace. “But it’s really no big deal.”

Lance’s smile never faulters. “It’s on me.”

His hand encases yours and you immediately freeze. The touch is unwelcome, and you want him gone.

Just as you go to yank your hand back, another man appears, this time directly behind Lance’s shoulder. He’s looking right at you, and this smile isn’t lecherous. If anything, it’s kind, and laced with a hint of concern.

“Thought that was you.” His voice is husky. Low. Almost a serenade.

Lance frowns, and turns. The stranger lightly bumps Lance’s shoulder as he pushes past him to get to you. He’s looking at you as if he’s always known you—and somehow it ignites a heat low in your belly.

“Can I help you?” snaps Lance.

You glance at the newcomer’s nametag.

Simon. He/him.

Simon says your name, and you never knew how nice it could sound on someone’s tongue.

Lance is glancing between the two of you quickly, his gaze assessing. But that isn’t what still bothers you. His hand is still wrapped around yours like it belongs to him.

“We’re old friends,” continues Simon. He addresses you. “Isn’t that right?”

You swallow, and lick your lips. “The very best,” you smile.

Simon is much larger than Lance. All broad shoulders and thick muscle. He might be dressed in business casual, but underneath you see the brute strength. This man could toss you around. Break you in half.

Not to mention the tattoos.

The backs of his hands are covered as are his fingers. They disappear beneath the cuffs of his shirt, and only appear again above the collar in a blackout neck tattoo.

A fleeting image of that very tattooed hand grabbing your throat sends a sparking heat up your spine. Warmth creeps in, and you clamp down on your wayward thoughts.

“You don’t mind if I steal her away?” Simon’s gaze drops to Lance’s nametag. “Do you, Lance?”

When Simon says Lance’s name, it’s dipped in annoyance. Lance’s face grows bright red as his hand disappears.

Thank fuck.

“Not at all,” replies Lance, stepping back.

Simon gives the man his best smile before lightly placing his hand on your lower back. Instant warmth radiates from his palm, a wave of calmness coming with it. With a gentle push, Simon guides you away from Lance and off toward a nearby corner.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, leaning in.

“Yes,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

Simon comes to a stop and promptly drops his hand. The warmness you feel fades a bit with his absence.

“You looked like a frightened deer.” He pauses. Winces slightly. “No offense.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh, setting your now empty cup down on the nearest flat surface.

He matches your smile and holds out his hand. “Simon.”

You take his hand and introduce yourself in kind.

“You’re a new face. Don’t usually see that at these events. Nearly always the same pool.”

“Oh. So, you come to these things often?” you tease, a bit of boldness in your tone.

A gentle flush kisses his cheeks. This incredibly tall, buff man is blushing. Actually blushing. “Would it be a red flag if I said yes?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know. This is my first,” you admit, not sure why you’re being so open.

“Your first social?”

“Not exactly,” you mutter, glancing out at the rest of the room.

No one is paying either of you any attention. Glancing back at Simon, you discreetly take a peek at his nametag. There are three stickers there but you have no fucking idea what they mean. You quickly sweep your gaze across the room again, looking for one of those stands. The nearest one is turned away from you.

Damnit.

“Not exactly?” he repeats.

You shrug, returning your attention back to Simon. “This is all new to me.”

Simon glances around, the middle of his brow creasing in concern.

Well, fuck.

The words tumble out like water flowing from an overturned glass. “I’m brand new. First time. No idea what I’m doing.”

Simon’s confusion fades, morphing into surprise. “Apologies.” He runs his fingers through his hair and then gestures toward your nametag. “You didn’t put the sticker for that on your nametag. I thought—”

“Shit. That’s my fault,” you laugh sheepishly. “Overwhelmed by the choices. Is that my red flag?”

Simon chuckles, a little color returning to his cheeks. “No.” He shakes his head, still laughing softly. “Not at all. That would explain—”

“A new face?”

“Exactly.”

You’re grinning so widely that your cheeks are starting to ache. Making a genuine connection wasn’t even on your radar, but here Simon is, waiting for you to just snatch him up. This is what you truly wanted after all. There is hope here—a possibility.

“So,” you begin. “Did you really come to save me because I looked like a frightened deer?”

Simon’s smile shifts slightly. It’s almost a smirk. A hint of amusement.

“Call it…curiosity,” he answers.

Fucking bingo.

“Are you interested?” you ask, deciding it’s best to put yourself out there. Even if you flop, it’s not like you’ll come back to this place or see any of these people ever again.

Simon considers his answer for a moment. “What if I am?”

It’s a hook. An in.

You glance at your empty cup. “I need a refill.”

Please take it. Please.

Simon straightens to his full height. “Then let’s walk.”

With a commanding presence, Simon guides you back to the bar, deterring all others from poaching you away. He doesn’t walk ahead of you or behind. Simon stays beside you, leading, but in a manner that feels entirely natural.

Is this what having a real dom feels like?

“There’s a balcony,” says Simon after you grab another drink. “It’s quieter.”

“Lead the way.”

The two of you step out onto a private balcony near the back of the room. It’s completely enclosed, made for the people within to look outside but not for others to look in. There are only a few people lingering about but they pay you no mind.

Simon heads for a small sofa and offers you first dibs. It isn’t until you take a seat that he does.

"You're new."

"You said that," you laugh.

"I meant new to the scene."

"Oh. Yes."

What else are you supposed to say? And why lie? Everyone has to start somewhere. Lily and Sarah’s warning creeps into the forefront of your mind. Lance fits, but does Simon? Not that you can tell.

Simon’s gaze quickly shifts to your nametag before returning to your face. “You’re looking for a dom?”

“I am,” you confirm, sitting a little straighter. “And you’re looking for a sub?”

It’s a guess in the dark. There are no stands out here to help you discern what the stickers on Simon’s nametag mean.

Simon inclines his head. “I am.”

“Am I in the running?”

It’s such an odd thing to say, as if you’re campaigning for office and not trying to make conversation with someone.

Simon takes a drink from his glass. “I’d like to get to know you first.”

“Okay.” You mull this over. “Like a date?” you ask slowly.

Simon nods. “We don’t talk about,” he taps the stickers on his nametag, “all this.”

“Like a vibe check?”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “Get a feel for each other. See how we connect.”

“That’s fair.” You pause. “I’d like that.”

Simon’s demeanor shifts slightly, a seriousness setting in. “I need emotion. Connection.”

“Are you looking for a relationship?” you ask hesitantly.

“No. Not exactly.” Simon takes a sip of his drink and then sets it down. “I prefer monogamy. I want one sub. That doesn’t mean it needs to be a whole life. It can just be sex. But it also needs to be built on trust.”

This openness is entirely foreign to you. Whenever it comes to men, you’ve found many of their communication skills lacking. Simon is telling you exactly what he wants. It’s fucking refreshing.

“We go on this date, and then what?” you ask.

A date sounds like more than just wanting sex. Dating is supposed to lead to a relationship. That’s what tradition says anyway.

“We talk about what we want out of this. Have a discussion. Set boundaries.” Simon sighs and leans back. “I don’t do contracts. Everything is negotiable. I prefer open communication. Constant communication.”

“And what if I don’t know what my boundaries are?” Your voice is soft, nearly a whisper. The last thing you want to be is a disappointment. “What if I don’t know what I’m doing?”

The rim of Simon’s cup freezes just shy of his mouth. He pauses, takes a hefty drink, and places it back on the table in front of the sofa.

“Then I can help you. Safely, that is. We can discover what they are together.”

His words are comforting, and yet there is still doubt. It’s not him—not exactly. It might be all in your head, but you are trekking into the unknown. You are venturing into depths you’ve only thought about.

Glancing over your shoulder, you observe the other people hanging around the balcony. They are all relaxed, nearly serene, engaged in conversation. You turn back to Simon, and meet his whiskey-brown eyes.

This man is a stranger. Everyone here is. But just like dating, you need to take the leap, to trudge forward with the hope that this will turn out to be something.

“Is that not what this is?”

“This is…networking. Speed dating.” Simon scratches at his neck just above the neck tattoo. The veins in his hand are pronounced, and you briefly question if they bulge like that on his arms. “I want to get to know you better. Outside of all this. No expectations.”

“I’d like that.”

With a smile that’s infectious, Simon retrieves his phone from his pocket, entering your information. Your phone goes off and you add his.

“Are you available next Friday?”

“I am.”

Your phone beeps, and you look down. There’s an address and a time.

“Meet me there.”

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@cod-z @mudisgranapat @kadeeesworld @umno-yeah @jackrabbitem

[imthebadguyyy]

i can fix him, no really i can.

Pairing : charles leclerc x reader

Fandom : formula 1

Series : the tortured poets department

Synopsis : they tell say God help her when I tell em he's my man...

warnings : angst.

the jokes that he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud...

The Monaco Grand Prix had been spectacular. Charles Leclerc, the golden boy of Formula 1, had won in his home country, and the celebrations were grand. The streets of Monte Carlo were alive with excitement, and the night was still young when you found yourself at a cozy bar with Charles and your friends, including Alex and Lily.

Charles was in high spirits, the euphoria of his victory coursing through him. You couldn't help but feel proud of him, but a knot of anxiety had formed in your stomach. You brushed it off, attributing it to the intensity of the day. The bar was crowded, the laughter loud, and the drinks flowing.

You sat beside Charles, trying to engage in the celebratory mood, but the jokes he told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. You could see the discomfort in Lily’s eyes, and Alex’s attempt to diffuse the tension with his own humor only partially succeeded.

“And then there was my ex, remember her?” Charles roared with laughter, slapping the table. “She was always so organized, never made a fuss about anything. I swear, sometimes I think she had everything more together than anyone else I’ve ever known.”

The laughter that followed was forced, a thin veneer over the awkwardness. Your heart sank. Charles had a few too many drinks, and his filter was gone. The way he talked about his exes, and sometimes even you, made you feel small and insignificant. Tonight, it stung more than usual.

Lily gave you a sympathetic look, and you tried to muster a smile. Alex changed the subject to racing, trying to steer the conversation away from dangerous waters. But Charles was on a roll.

“And you, love, you’ve got your quirks too,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. His voice was louder than necessary, drawing the attention of those around you. “Remember that time you tried to cook us dinner and nearly burned the kitchen down? Classic.”

The laughter was scattered, and you felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You wanted to disappear, but you stayed, for Charles. The night dragged on, each joke more painful than the last, until finally, it was time to leave.

Back at the hotel, the atmosphere was heavy with the unspoken words that lingered in the air. Charles, still basking in his victory, seemed oblivious to your discomfort. He collapsed onto the bed, eyes half-closed, a contented smile on his face.

You changed into your pajamas quietly, the tension building within you. Charles didn’t notice. He didn’t kiss you goodnight or tell you he loved you. He just lay there, lost in his own world.

As you slipped into bed beside him, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The silence was deafening. You turned away, facing the wall, the weight of your doubts pressing down on you. Was this what love felt like? Was this the future you had envisioned with him?

Sleep was elusive, your mind racing with questions and insecurities. You felt a chasm growing between you, one that his victory and the night’s revelry couldn’t bridge. Charles had won a race, but you felt like you had lost something precious.

In the quiet darkness of the hotel room, you lay awake, wondering if Charles would ever see the pain behind your forced smiles, the hurt beneath your laughter. The night that had started with joy ended in silent despair, leaving you unsure about the road ahead.

they shake their heads, saying god help her, when i, tell em he's my man...

The living room buzzed with nostalgia and laughter as you mingled with Charles' childhood friends. Marta, Riccardo, and a few others caught up animatedly near the fireplace, while Lily and your closest girlfriends gathered near the kitchen, sharing stories and memories.

Charles slipped his arm around your waist, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Hey everyone," you announced, your voice trembling slightly. "There's something we want to share."

The room quieted, and curious eyes turned towards you. You felt Charles' supportive presence beside you, which gave you a measure of reassurance.

"We're dating," Charles declared with a bright smile, his eyes searching for signs of approval or happiness.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, Marta and Riccardo exchanged concerned glances. Lily's expression softened with worry, but she quickly composed herself.

Without saying a word, Lily motioned for the other girls to follow her. You gathered in a nearby room, and they enveloped you in a supportive hug.

"We just want you to be careful," Lily whispered, her voice filled with concern. "You know how Charles can be sometimes."

The other girls nodded in agreement, their expressions a mixture of sympathy and caution. "We're here for you no matter what," one of them added, squeezing your hand gently.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt their unconditional support. These were the friends who had always been by your side, through thick and thin. Their concern was palpable, a reflection of your deep bond and shared history.

"I appreciate your concern," you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion. "But I really care about Charles. I hope you can see that."

They nodded understandingly, their embrace tightening around you. "Just promise us you'll look out for yourself," Lily said softly.

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. Despite the doubts lingering in the back of your mind, you knew you had their support. With them standing beside you, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out alright.

Back in the living room, Charles was chatting animatedly with his friends, oblivious to the heartfelt conversation happening just a few rooms away. You took a deep breath, wiping away your tears. Whatever happened next, you knew you weren't alone.

his hand so calloused from his pistol, softly traces hearts on my face...

The day had been a disaster. Charles had been so sure of his win, so confident in his abilities. But the race had ended in bitter disappointment. You could see the frustration radiating off him as he stormed out of the pit, his face a mask of barely contained rage.

You followed him quietly, giving him space as he retreated to the trailer. He slammed the door behind him, and you hesitated before opening it slowly and stepping inside. The tension in the small space was palpable.

"Charles," you said softly, hoping to calm him down. "It's just one race. There will be more."

He whirled around, his eyes blazing. "You don’t get it!" he shouted, the force of his anger making you flinch. "I needed this win. Everything was riding on this."

You took a step back, feeling a mix of fear and sorrow. "I'm sorry," you whispered, unsure of what else to say.

He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated, and then turned away from you. "Just...leave me alone," he muttered, his voice still edged with anger.

Your heart ached at the distance between you. You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but his fury made you hesitant. You stood there, torn between giving him the space he demanded and wanting to bridge the gap his disappointment had created.

Minutes passed in tense silence. Eventually, his shoulders sagged, and he turned back to you, the anger in his eyes replaced by regret. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now, though it still carried the weight of his frustration.

You nodded, but the hurt lingered. "I know," you replied quietly, not sure if you believed it yet.

He stepped closer, his calloused hands reaching for you. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness of his words earlier. He softly traced hearts on your face, the roughness of his fingers a reminder of the man he was — strong, yet capable of such tenderness.

You closed your eyes, trying to reconcile the conflicting emotions swirling within you. His anger had scared you, but his apology and the softness of his touch made you question your feelings. Could you forgive him so easily? Did his regret outweigh the sting of his outburst?

He continued to caress your face, his fingers moving in soothing patterns. "I hate that I took it out on you," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. There was genuine remorse there, but also a desperation for your forgiveness. You wanted to trust him, to believe that this was just a moment of weakness, not a glimpse into a darker side of him.

"I don't know what to feel," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You scared me, Charles."

His face crumpled with guilt, and he pulled you into a tight embrace. "I know," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry. Please, just give me a chance to make it right."

You stayed in his arms, your heart heavy with uncertainty. His touch was soothing, but the memory of his anger lingered. You wanted to forgive him, to move past this moment, but a part of you wondered if this was a sign of things to come.

As he traced another heart on your cheek, you closed your eyes again, trying to find clarity in the midst of the chaos. You loved him, but love alone couldn't erase the hurt. Only time would tell if his actions matched his words, if his tenderness could outweigh his anger.

For now, you held onto the hope that he could change, that the man who traced hearts on your face was the real Charles, not the one who lashed out in anger. And as you stood there, wrapped in his embrace, you silently prayed that your hope wasn't misplaced.

i can fix him, no really i can..

The evening had started off so well. Charles had invited you to a family dinner at his mother's house. Pascale, Arthur, Lorenzo, their girlfriends, and a few of the drivers were all there. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and warmth. You felt a sense of belonging, surrounded by the people Charles loved most.

But as the night wore on, a seemingly innocuous comment about a minor mistake Charles made during a recent race triggered something in him. What began as light-hearted teasing quickly escalated into a heated argument. Charles' temper flared, his frustration from the season bubbling to the surface.

"You don't understand the pressure I'm under!" Charles shouted, his face flushed with anger. "It's not just a game to me!"

You tried to calm him down, to remind him that everyone was just joking, but he was too far gone. "Charles, it's just a silly mistake. Everyone makes them," you said gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

But your words only seemed to fuel his rage. "You always take their side!" he snapped. "You never support me!"

The room fell silent. Pascale and the others exchanged uneasy glances, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the evening had taken. Arthur stepped forward, trying to intervene. "Come on, Charles, she’s just trying to help."

Charles whirled around to face his brother, his eyes blazing. "Stay out of it, Arthur. This is between me and her."

You felt a pang of hurt at his words, but also a rising determination to stand your ground. "I'm on your side, Charles. I always am," you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He shook his head, his expression a mix of anger and frustration. "No, you're not. You never are."

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed was deafening. Pascale sighed deeply, her face etched with worry. "Let him go, dear. He needs time to cool down."

Arthur put a comforting hand on your shoulder. "He’s being unreasonable. It's not your fault."

But you shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "I can fix him. No, really, I can," you insisted, your voice breaking. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn't mean it."

Lorenzo's girlfriend, Charlotte, gave you a sympathetic look. "We know he doesn't mean it, but you can't keep taking the brunt of his frustration. It's not fair to you."

You looked around the room, seeing the concern in everyone's eyes. They cared for you, and they cared for Charles, but they didn't understand. They didn't see the Charles you saw — the one who was vulnerable and scared, hiding behind his anger.

"I love him," you said quietly, more to yourself than anyone else. "And I know he loves me. I just have to be patient."

Pascale walked over and took your hands in hers, her eyes filled with motherly compassion. "Love is important, but it shouldn't hurt this much. Sometimes, it's okay to step back and let him come to terms with his own issues."

You nodded, but your heart was heavy with resolve. You knew they were right, but you couldn't give up on him. You had seen glimpses of the man he could be, the man he was when he wasn't weighed down by his own demons.

"I have to try," you whispered, more determined than ever. "I have to."

You slipped away from the group and found Charles outside, pacing back and forth, his hands clenched into fists. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening slightly. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice raw with regret. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

You stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "I know you're under a lot of pressure, Charles. But you can't keep taking it out on me. We need to find a way to handle this together."

He nodded, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I know. I’m sorry," he repeated, his voice breaking. "I just...I feel like I'm drowning sometimes."

You held him close, your heart aching for him. "We'll figure it out," you promised. "But you have to let me in. You have to trust that I'm on your side."

He nodded against your shoulder, his grip tightening. "I do. I will."

As you stood there in the darkness, holding each other, you knew the road ahead would be difficult. But you were determined to help him, to fix what was broken. Because despite everything, you loved him. And you believed that love was worth fighting for, even when it hurt

trust me, i can handle a dangerous man..

The car ride home was supposed to be peaceful. The two of you had spent a pleasant evening with friends, but as you drove back, a comment about his racing performance earlier in the week had sparked an argument. The tension between you and Charles had been simmering for days, and now it was boiling over.

"You're always criticizing me," Charles snapped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. "You think it's easy out there? You have no idea what it's like!"

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "I'm not criticizing you, Charles. I'm just saying you need to be more careful. It's not just about you—there are other drivers, the team, and me."

His jaw clenched, and he pressed harder on the gas pedal. The car surged forward, the speedometer climbing rapidly. "You don't get to tell me how to drive," he growled.

Your heart started pounding, but you kept your voice steady. "Charles, slow down. This isn't the track."

He ignored you, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his knuckles white against the wheel. The car continued to pick up speed, the scenery outside blurring into a streak of lights and shadows. Fear tightened your chest, but you refused to let it show.

"Charles, this is dangerous," you said firmly. "You're not thinking straight."

He shot you a fierce glare. "Stop trying to control me!"

You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "I'm not trying to control you. I'm trying to keep us safe. You're being reckless."

He let out a bitter laugh, his anger palpable. "You think you can handle everything, don't you? That you know better than me?"

Your patience snapped. "I can handle a dangerous man," you shot back, your voice rising. "But I'm not going to sit here and let you put our lives at risk because you're too stubborn to listen!"

Charles flinched as if you'd struck him. For a moment, the car seemed to hover on the edge of something catastrophic. Then, slowly, he eased off the gas, the car's speed gradually decreasing until you were traveling at a more reasonable pace. The silence that followed was thick with unresolved tension and unspoken words.

You both stared ahead, the only sound the hum of the engine and the faint whir of the tires against the asphalt. The anger and fear churned inside you, but you kept your composure, refusing to give in to the chaos.

Finally, you reached home. Charles parked the car and turned off the engine, but neither of you moved to get out. The weight of the argument hung heavy in the air.

"I don't want to fight," he said quietly, his voice breaking the silence.

You turned to look at him, your expression softening just a fraction. "Neither do I. But you need to understand that your actions have consequences. It's not just about you anymore."

He nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and exhaustion. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You sighed, the tension slowly ebbing away. "We need to communicate better, Charles. We can't keep having these explosive arguments."

He reached for your hand, his touch tentative. "I'll try," he promised. "I don't want to lose you."

You squeezed his hand, offering a small, tentative smile. "I don't want to lose you either. But we have to work on this together."

With that, you both stepped out of the car and walked into the house in silence, the echoes of your argument lingering in the night air. The road ahead would be challenging, but you were determined to face it together, one step at a time.

Come close I'll show you heaven, if you'll be an angel all night.. 

The argument had been intense, but now the storm had seemingly passed. You and Charles found yourselves in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere heavy with unresolved tension. He reached for you, his touch tentative at first, but quickly growing more insistent as he pulled you closer.

"I'm sorry," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with regret. "I don't want to fight anymore."

You responded to his kiss, your anger melting away into a fervent need to reconnect. Your hands roamed over each other, the intensity of the make-out session escalating quickly. Lips met with a desperate passion, tongues intertwined, and the world outside ceased to exist.

"Come close," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear. "I'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night."

He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, really?" he teased, his voice low and husky.

His lips trailed to your neck, kissing the delicate skin there, taking it between his teeth and sucking it to leave a mark, making you gasp and moan at the sting, letting your head roll back.

You nodded, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Yes, but you have to promise not to bring up the argument again. Let's just enjoy the night."

He chuckled, the sound dark and sardonic. "And if I don't behave? What happens then?"

You pulled back slightly, studying his face. "Then the deal's off. No more fighting, Charles. I mean it."

His expression hardened, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a familiar edge of defiance. "You think you can control everything, don't you?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Always trying to manage me, like I'm some child."

Your heart sank, the heat of the moment dissipating in an instant. "That's not what I meant," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I just want us to have a good night together."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Sure, whatever you say. As long as I'm your perfect little angel, right?"

The insult stung, cutting through the fragile peace you'd managed to build. Without another word, you pushed away from him, the anger and hurt flooding back. "You know what, Charles? Forget it. I thought we could move past this, but clearly, you're not interested."

You turned on your heel, heading for the door. Behind you, Charles called out, his voice tinged with frustration and regret. "Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that."

But you didn't stop. You couldnt. The promise of a passionate night had been shattered by his careless words, and you needed space to cool down and collect your thoughts.

As you walked away, you heard him sigh deeply, the sound filled with the weight of unspoken apologies and missed opportunities. The night that could have been spent in each other's arms was now tainted by lingering resentment and unresolved tension.

In the quiet of your room, you let the tears fall, mourning not just the lost night, but the growing distance between you. It would take more than apologies and promises to mend the rift, but for now, you needed to be alone.

The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you couldn't keep going on like this. Something had to change, and it had to start with him.

but your, good lord didn't need to lift a finger, i can fix him, no really i can....

The vacation had been a welcome escape from the relentless pressure of the racing season. You and Charles had joined a few of the drivers, including Lewis and Pierre, at a luxurious beachfront villa. The days were spent basking in the sun, enjoying the ocean, and indulging in rare moments of relaxation.

But even here, away from the track, the shadow of Charles' recent bad streak loomed large. It was a warm evening, the group gathered around a bonfire, laughter and conversation filling the air. Charles, however, seemed distant, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames.

"I feel like I need to pray," Charles said suddenly, breaking the jovial mood. "I need something to break this bad streak."

You squeezed his hand, trying to offer some comfort. "You know, you've always said I'm your good luck charm," you joked lightly. "You’ve got pole, fastest lap, and wins when I’m around. Maybe I’m the one you should be praying to."

There was a moment of silence. You expected a laugh, or at least a smile, but instead, Charles' expression darkened. He pulled his hand away, his eyes narrowing. "You think you're like God? That’s incredibly arrogant."

The words hit you like a slap. The laughter around the fire died instantly, replaced by stunned silence. You blinked, trying to process the sudden shift. "Charles, I was just joking," you said quietly, feeling the weight of everyone's eyes on you.

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the wooden deck. "You don't get it," he snapped. "You think everything revolves around you."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back. "I was just trying to lighten the mood," you said, your voice trembling. "I’m always here for you, trying to support you."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Maybe I don’t need your kind of support."

The tension was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Lewis and Pierre exchanged concerned glances, clearly uncomfortable with the unfolding drama.

"Charles, that’s enough," Lewis said gently, stepping in to diffuse the situation. "We’re all friends here."

But Charles ignored him, turning on his heel and walking away, disappearing into the darkness. You stood there, feeling the sting of his words, the hurt cutting deep.

Pierre got up and walked over to you, his expression filled with empathy. "Hey," he said softly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, but the tears finally spilled over. "I can fix him," you insisted, your voice breaking. "No, really, I can."

Pierre sighed, his eyes sad. "You can't fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed."

Lewis stepped closer, his gaze steady and compassionate. "You're better off without him if he keeps treating you like this. You deserve someone who appreciates you, not someone who lashes out."

You shook your head, the conviction in your voice wavering. "He’s just under so much pressure. He doesn’t mean it."

Lewis and Pierre exchanged another look. "Pressure or not, there’s no excuse for treating you this way," Lewis said firmly. "You need to think about yourself, too."

You wiped your tears, the reality of their words sinking in. But despite everything, you still loved Charles, still believed in the man you knew he could be. "I just need to talk to him," you said, more to yourself than to them.

Pierre gave you a small, sad smile. "Just be careful, okay? We’re here for you."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. The night that had started with so much promise was now marred by tension and hurt. As you walked away from the fire, your heart heavy, you knew you needed to find Charles, to try and reach him one more time.

You found him by the shoreline, the sound of the waves crashing against the sand echoing your turbulent emotions. He stood with his back to you, his posture rigid.

"Charles," you called softly, stepping closer.

He turned, his face illuminated by the moonlight, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath his anger. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice raw. "I didn’t mean to snap at you."

You reached out, taking his hand. "I know," you whispered. "But we can’t keep going on like this. We need to find a way to deal with this pressure without hurting each other."

He nodded, pulling you into an embrace. "I don’t want to lose you," he murmured into your hair.

You held him tightly, hoping that this time, things would be different. But a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that this cycle would continue, that the man you loved would keep lashing out in his moments of weakness.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the waves crashing at your feet, you silently prayed for strength—for both of you. Because love was worth fighting for, but you couldn’t do it alone. Charles needed to fight too, for himself and for you.

WOAH- maybe, i can't... 

The villa was supposed to be a retreat, a place where you and Charles could escape the relentless pressure of the racing season and find some peace. But the calm had been shattered by yet another argument. The drivers who had joined you—Lewis, Pierre, and a few others—had made themselves scarce, sensing the brewing storm.

You were in the kitchen, the words flying between you and Charles like daggers. "You’re always on my back, always criticizing me," he shouted, his face red with anger. "Do you think I don’t feel the pressure already?"

"I’m not criticizing you, Charles," you replied, your voice shaking with frustration. "I’m trying to help you, to support you. But you keep pushing me away."

He scoffed, turning away from you. "Support me? By constantly nagging? That’s not support, that’s control."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure. "I’m not trying to control you. I just want you to be your best, and that means sometimes you need to listen."

He whirled back around, his eyes blazing. "Listen to you? You think you know better than me? That you can fix all my problems?"

The words hit you hard. You had spent so much time believing that you could help him, that your love and support could make a difference. But now, standing there, the reality crashed down on you. He didn’t want to be fixed, didn’t want to change. He wanted to wallow in his frustration and drag you down with him.

"I thought I could fix you," you said, your voice breaking. "No, really, I did. I thought if I loved you enough, supported you enough, you’d see that you don’t have to go through this alone."

He rolled his eyes, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "That’s your problem. You think you’re some sort of savior."

The anger flared inside you, hot and fierce. "And you think you can treat me like this and I’ll just keep coming back? You’re the one with the problem, Charles. You’re so caught up in your own misery that you can’t see what’s right in front of you."

He opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, your voice rising. "You know what? I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep pretending that I can fix you when you’re not willing to fix yourself. I’m done."

Charles looked taken aback, his bravado faltering. "What are you saying?"

"I’m saying that I’m leaving," you said, the words steady and resolute. "I deserve better than this. Better than you."

You saw the shock in his eyes, the realization that you were serious. "You’re not serious," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.

"I am," you replied, turning to grab your bag. "I’m done being your punching bag. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved."

You walked past him, heading for the door. As you reached for the handle, you felt a sense of clarity, of strength. "I can fix him, no, really, I can," you muttered to yourself, then shook your head. "Woah, maybe I can’t."

You opened the door and stepped outside, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you walked down the path, away from the villa and from Charles, you heard the door slam behind you. He didn’t follow, didn’t call out to you.

The drivers who had been waiting outside looked up, concern in their eyes. Pierre stepped forward, his expression gentle. "Are you okay?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "I will be."

Lewis came over, his hand resting on your shoulder. "You did the right thing. You deserve someone who values you."

You felt the tears well up, but they were tears of relief, of release. "Thank you," you said, your voice steady. "I needed to hear that."

As you walked away with your friends, leaving Charles and his toxicity behind, you felt a newfound sense of freedom. You had tried to fix him, but in the end, you had fixed yourself by walking away. And that was the greatest victory of all.

a/n : it appears I've given allll the angsty ttpd songs to charles 🥲 this one was painful to write. as always, comments likes reblogs feedback etc is always appreciated 🤍

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ttpd series - @ateezseonghwanot @khaylin27 @imgondeletedis @jj-ever-lovely-jewel @stylestastic

general - @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird-blog

charles : - @chanshintien @eternalharry @janeholt @magicalcowboyarbiter @oneafterdark @leclerc13 @moon-enthusiast @crlsummer @superlegends316 @electrobutterfly @formula1mount @f1loverrr @livs @inkfablesandstories @ssararuffoni

f1 : @ivegotparticulartaste @moon-enthusiast @superlegend216 @theonly1outof-a-billion @williams-spare-chassis

TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST SEND ME AN ASK OR A DM SPECIFYING WHICH FANDOM 🤍

[melzula]

The Nightmare

pairings: Zuko x Princess!reader

notes: hi! it’s been forever since i’ve written for these two so hopefully you guys are still interested. it was briefly mentioned previously that the princess often has nightmares about not being able to save Zuko, so i thought i’d build on that here.

summary: still haunted by the events of Sozin’s Comet, the Princess looks to Zuko to chase away the nightmares

~part of the fire lilies series~

The pain in your hands is unbearable.

It feels as if liquid heat is coursing through your veins, your shoulders trembling with the pitiful sobs that leave you as you push through the pain. Your hands are ruined, but there isn’t time to fix them, not when he needs you.

“Zuko, please,” you beg hoarsely, tears streaming down your face as you desperately try to heal him. The damage to your hands makes it almost impossible to use your bending abilities, and though the little strength you have left allows you to heal him, you begin to realize that it simply isn’t enough. Your scorched hands tremble and ache under the pressure, and the small body of water you use to mend your lover’s injury is working too slowly. He still won’t open his eyes nor will he move, and his breathing grows shallower with every minute. You’re losing him.

“Stay with me! Just a little… a little longer,” you groan, a sharp jolt of pain shooting through your nerves and up your arms. Your skin is an angry red, and it only seems to worsen the longer you work to heal Zuko. You’re getting weaker, and time is beginning to run out.

“Katara!” You scream, knowing that she can’t come to your aid just yet. She’s still holding Azula off so you can heal Zuko without interruption, but you can’t do this on your own. “Katara, help!”

Zuko’s chest rises and falls for the last time, and there’s nothing you can do about it now.

“Zuko, no! Please, no! Zuko!” You wail.

The feeling in your fingers is gone, so you sense no pain when you press your charred hands firmly against his chest in a desperate attempt to bring him back from the dead. Your vision is blurred with tears, but you can still make out the calm features of his paling face. It almost looks as if he’s sleeping, and a part of you hopes that that’s all it is.

“Y/n!” Katara exclaims. You’d been too engrossed in your grief to notice her rushing to your side, to notice her hands gently grasping your shoulders in an attempt to pull you away from him. “Y/n, we have to go! Y/n!”

“Y/n!”

You wake with a gasp, body shooting up right in bed and chest heaving as it tries to catch up with your desperate gulps for air. It takes a moment for you to process that you’re no longer in the courtyard but rather in a quiet bedroom free from Azula’s wrath and the comet. A hand reaches for your shoulder and you flinch without meaning to.

“Princess, are you alright?” Zuko presses gently as he hurriedly lights the bedside lamp to rid the room of darkness.

“I… I think I had a nightmare,” you murmur quietly. You stare at your hands contemplatively, noting the absence of pain and the bandages neatly wrapped around them. You can remember now that you’re safe in Zuko’s bedroom recovering from the events of Sozin’s comet, resting after having to heal your wounds. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he assures you, carefully cupping your check with his hand and shifting your gaze from your bandages to his face. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I am,” you swallow softly. Staring into his golden irises, you feel a sense of relief wash over you knowing that he’s still there, still alive. Your dream had been so realistic you almost believed it to be true when you awoke. “I just… I dreamt I lost you.”

“Lost me?” He repeats. “You could never lose me.”

“But I did. Azula struck you just as she did during the comet, only this time I hadn’t been able to heal you in time and I-“

“Hey, enough of that,” Zuko chides gently, taking one of your delicate hands and resting it over his beating heart. “You did heal me. I’m still here, and I don’t plan on leaving you any time soon, Princess.”

Sensing the careful thrum of his heart against your palm eases your nerves and you allow yourself to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was right, it was just a dream, the two of you were still here despite the damage Azula had done, and nothing was going to change that.

“Will you hold me?” You utter softly, prompting Zuko to smile in return.

“Gladly,” he replies before pulling you in and embracing you against his chest.

With the heat of his body encompassing you and the quiet beating of his heart in you ear as a reminder that he’s still with you, you fall back into a peaceful sleep with ease.

And Zuko is more than happy to be there should another nightmare return again.

| taglist: *I’m using the original list i have so if you want to be added or removed let me know :) @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka @sirkekselord @protect-remuslupinarchived @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @coldlilheart @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @zukh03s @taeeemin @user12345321 @just--artemis—with--ghost @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @djskfkdkkf @xapham @yeetletzgetitjae @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @neighborhoodpansexualdisaster @noodlesfluffy @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @zukoslosthishonor @ibelievein2dmensupremacy

[midnightarcheress]

Simon takes you to the museum.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: implied ptsd. 4 | gold rush masterlist.

the timid yellows creeping up the tree leaves announce the beginning of autumn, crisp air filling their lungs as they walk through the Tuileries Garden. Simon tries his best to act calm, focusing on how you make your way on the footpath around the octagonal lake, but the city’s sounds and the bustling crowd in the park keep him on edge, fingers rhythmically touching the dense fabric of his jeans for a faint sense of safety in the present.

despite his anxiety levels spiking, he still manages to appreciate the view. the remaining flowers from warmer days paint the grass with vivid colours and, on the horizon, he catches a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower on the other side of the river. the sun shines brightly in the sky, almost casting a golden halo over your head, the tender heat warming his brittle heart in a brief moment of peace.

“the museum is that way,” you look back at him, pointing to your left. ever since Daniel complied with your request for time off, you’ve been researching the perfect spot to spend your free afternoon, ultimately landing on the Orangery Museum. at least a museum is supposed to be a quiet place, Simon thinks.

“did you know that this building was actually a greenhouse?” you ask, walking through the entrance, “it was created to store the citrus trees from the garden, that’s why this side has so many windows.” your head tilts to the riverside facade and he silently hums, acknowledging you.

his lips involuntarily curve at your enthusiasm. the two of you don’t talk much on the daily, but it was endearing to see how happy you were for being surrounded by art, and he didn’t mind hearing you babble about the paintings. or about anything, honestly. the sound of your voice was soothing, pacifying the nerves that had been eating his insides since he stepped out of bed. 

“oh, those are my favourite!” you tug on his forearm, pulling him into an oval room with huge panels, the tiny inscriptions on the side reading ‘Claude Monet’, “those are water lilies, y’know, the flower? he did two-hundred-and-something paintings based on a pond in his property, can you imagine that?” 

“they’re pretty,” he mumbles, observing the thin brushstrokes. art is far from his strong suit, but he liked how the paintings captured the fickles of light and how they lacked the usual restrained aspect seen in other pieces – they seemed relaxed, floaty, free. so different from your life. maybe that’s why you loved it so much.

you drag him through the whole exhibit, explaining little details of the museum, the garden, the techniques, and he listens closely, his attention never leaving your mouth, completely entranced by your words. he didn’t feel the weight of the duty nor the need to protect you there, it was a different world. your own little bubble, and you allowed him inside. 

his hand brushes on your shoulder while exiting the building, guiding you through the door. he’s not keen on being outside again, sirens already buzzing in his brain with the idea of potential threats lurking in the shadows.

trying not to let the perpetual concern flood his mind, he clears his throat and sparks up conversation, ignoring the rules pairing over his head. no talking, no touching. “so, how did you learn so much about... all that?” he gestures back to the museum.

“oh, uhm, i used to paint,” you start, hiding the smile sneaking up your lips at his unexpected interest, “took a course in art history too.”

his eyebrows raise. “used to?” 

“yeah, when i had more time to myself,” he notices your sigh, studying the sudden solemn expression that outlines your face. your beautiful face, “but i wasn’t very good at it.” you chuckle, downsizing your abilities, and he snorts, not fully believing you. it’s the first time you’ve seen him showing any sort of emotion besides indifference, and he prides himself on the surprise gracing your features. 

it was nice, walking with you. not behind you. did he enjoy the view? yes, but this – him by your side, arms swinging together, matching steps – was real. genuine. it almost felt like a date, not that he would ever dare to say it out loud. everything was perfect.

until it wasn’t.

it happened so fast. a loud blast on the street made Simon wrap an arm around your waist and pull you to the nearest alley, one hand firmly pressing you against his chest and another holding your head, broad shoulders covering your body as the intense blood pump on his ears muffle the deafening ringing rattle. he stays in the position for a while, blown-out pupils frantically darting around and searching for any indication of danger. 

he takes a deep breath and his head dips down to you. for a minute, the only thing he sees is the gash on your forehead and your bleeding eye. you’re paralysed, partially because your brain is still catching up on what’s going on, and partially because his tight grip doesn’t admit any movement. 

“Ghost? what’s wrong?” the scared tone of your whisper readjusts his vision to what really is in front of him – you. safe, without a single scratch, tucked in his arms with a strength he hadn’t used to this extent in a long time. and he feels bad, pathetic even, because nothing happened. the blaring sound was a car crash in the avenue, not a grenade destroying everything in sight.

“it’s nothing” he pulls back, averting your eyes like the plague, “i'm sorry.” stupid. 

you frown, overlooking his avoidance with utter sympathy, “are you alright?” he grunts, unintelligibly, reverting to his cold stance and nodding. you don’t buy his half-answer, but decide that it’s better not to pry.

he knew it was coming, the uneasiness brewing in his gut was only waiting for the right trigger to crawl up his oesophagus and spill all over you. 

the rest of the walk is quiet, with him returning to his position a few steps back. never should’ve left. you sneak glances at him, checking, but his gaze seems too far gone. next thing he knows, you’re both on the jet, Daniel snoring in the front seat, him looking out the window, lost in thought. of course i'd fuck up. 

he barely hears when you approach him, trembling fingers handing him a card. the card. you’re trusting him. he glares at you for a second, hazel irises shifting between your spooked appearance and the paper. ‘don’t like you travelling without me, darling. i’ll be waiting for my souvenir  – your prince.’

i've never been to france lol. and yeah i had a monet phase when I was fifteen.

little fun fact - the painting in the fic masterlist is part of his water lilies series.

[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

On the Open Water

Pairing: Joe Rantz x OC (Sadie)

Warnings: N/A

Description: Joe takes Sadie out for a boat ride. Yes, this is heavily influenced by the scene from the movie. All credit goes to the original writers of the script for the idea.

Boys in the Boat Masterlist

This is not meant to be a reflection of the real person that was portrayed in the Boys in the Boat. It is a work of fiction.

The first time she'd laid eyes on the tall figure that was Joe Rantz, her heart skipped a beat and her cheeks flushed red. Thankfully, he'd been distracted by his crew who were crowded around him as they walked out to the water. She'd heard about the junior boat, they were one of the hottest topics on campus at the moment - that the 8 of them had managed to beat out so many others was remarkably impressive.

Joe was tall, broad-shoulder and muscular in a way that she'd never seen. His blonde hair looked golden in the afternoon sunshine and he had a laugh that echoed easily in the air. It was plain as day that he was very, very handsome. She allowed herself a few blissful moments to watch as he walked away, but forced herself to turn back to her homework that was due the very next day.

The second time Sadie saw Joe Rantz was at a school-sanctioned party after he and his crew won their first race. She'd been doing her best to keep her gaze from where he was sitting, but considering the party was in their honor, it was hard not to let her attention wander back to him. Joe was seated between Roger Davis and George "Shorty" Hunt at a circular table just off to the side of the area that had been marked off for the dance floor.

Roger and Shorty were leaning close to Joe, shoving his shoulders a bit and whisper-yelling at him as he shook his head, a red flush tinting his cheeks.

Sadie was sitting comfortably at her own table surrounded by some of her roommates who had become some her best friends. Lily and Angela were laughing as they slowly drank the colorful cocktails in their chilled glasses - the only refuge from the increasingly hot room.

"What do you think, Sadie?" Lily asked her, drawing her attention away from the men of the hour. Lily had always been the more outgoing of their bunch, blonde and as beautiful as she was she drew men to her as easily as she breathed the air around them.

Angela was equally gorgeous with long hair that trailed down her back and dark as a raven's wing. Her lips were always painted bright red in contrast to her bright white teeth. She was incredibly smart, witty, and was always making them laugh with some sort of remark made just under her breath.

Sadie smiled, tucking a loose piece of curled hair behind her ear. "What do I think about what?"

Angela and Lily shared a glance, smirking at one another, "About how Joe Rantz has been glancing over at you every few minutes since he saw you sitting there."

"He has not," She protested. Her eyes widened as she took in their honest expressions and twisted, smug lips. "Really," she continued, "I doubt he knows I'm here. What is more likely is that he's looking at one of you."

Lily shook her head, "Looks like we're about to find out."

"What do you mean?" Sadie asked, turning her head to follow the direction of Lily's quirked brow. Joe Rantz had begun to stand from his seat and George was patting him heartily on his shoulder, while Roger looked straight in the direction of their table. He was leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together and grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Joe's eyes caught hers, eyeing the red that crept into her cheeks for a split second before she looked away from him. Casting worried looks at her friends, "He's not coming this way, is he?"

Sadie was not as confident as Lily or as quick-witted as Angela, but she was enthusiastically kind and had a heart twice as large as anyone else. She prided herself on seeing the best in others even though most times she couldn't quite see the best in herself.

Lily and Angela didn't answer, instead they made to stand giving her a supportive thumbs-up before hurrying away from the table. Angela winking at her and her giving her a large smile.

The sound of footsteps nearing the table drew her attention away from her giggling friends. Sadie felt distinctly aware of every hair out of place on her head and the dampness at the small of her back from the heat of the room.

"Hello," Joe's baritone sounded next to her and Sadie looked up into startlingly, clear blue eyes in answer. His blonde hair was combed neatly atop his head and his mouth was softened into a small, hesitant smile. "My name's Joe - Joe Rantz."

She offered him her hand in greeting and he extended his much larger hand to accept it. "It's nice to meet you," she smiled, proud of how she held her voice steady in front of the man she'd been admiring from afar.

Sadie offered him her own name, which he repeated softly, almost to himself. He seemed to be testing the way it tasted on his lips and she couldn't deny the butterflies that took flight in her stomach at hearing him swirl her name around inside of his mouth.

She gestured towards one of the empty seats in an offer for him to sit down. Joe hesitated, eyes downcast before flicking back up to hers, "I was actually wondering if, maybe, you might want to dance with me?"

Sadie's smiled encouragingly, "I'd love to."

Accepting his outstretched hand, she let him lead her to the dance floor. Where he pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling the steadiness of his body against her own nervous one. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel it in her fingertips and she glanced up at his face to determine if he could hear it.

Instead, she caught a look that was a little bashful and incredulous as he pulled her slightly closer than one might a friend. She stepped forward to make it easier for him, delighting in the red that grew at the tips of his ears.

The third time she saw Joe Rantz was beneath her window.

"What are you doing?" She asked, laughing as she pushed the window open.

He was beautiful in the moonlight, eyes wide in excitement and a broad grin taking over his face. "Do you want to go on a boat ride?" He looked up at her expectantly, no trace of any expectation that she would say no.

"Right now?" Sadie asked, voice full of laughter.

He shrugged, "Sure, why not."

She laughed, "I'll be right down." She hurried into her shoes, flinging her door open and ignoring the questions from Lily and Angela. She half-ran and half-stumbled her way down two flights of stairs to the door where Joe waited for her.

"Hi," she greeted, breathless as she pushed the door open.

Joe's grin was brighter than she'd ever seen. He reached for her and she stepped easily into his reach, one of his hands trailing down her arm to her hand which he took in his own. "Follow me," he said, leading her forward.

He must've already been to the University's shell house, because he led her to the dock where he had a small row boat tied securely. He offered her his arm and she climbed into the boat with unsteady legs.

Joe climbed in after her, the very picture of grace and set them off. The water was calm around them and as Joe rowed them away from shore, the symphony of the open water at night performed for them. Swirling water and soft breezes smelling of fresh spring flowers, carrying with it the smell of Joe's cologne.

She turned her head towards him and found his blue eyes already staring at her.

"You're going to row us into something if you don't pay attention to where we're going," she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him playfully.

Joe smirked, his expression the picture of confidence. "Of the two of us, remind me who has more experience out on the water," his voice drew her attention down to his lips, which morphed into something of a smug grin as he caught her slip.

Sadie glanced up quickly. "Obviously, it's me," she continued, tossing her hair over her shoulder pretending to have all of the confidence in the world.

Joe laughed softly next to her and she couldn't help the giggle that escaped her.

He stopped rowing, letting the current take hold once they were in the middle of the water and the boat began to drift slowly as it did.

"Do you like rowing?" Sadie asked, studying his expression. It was mostly hidden from her but as he tilted his head in contemplation the light from the moon illuminated him in a silver glow.

"I'm getting a job out of it," he shrugged. His voice took on a nonchalant tone but his eyes gave away his enjoyment for the sport.

Sadie nudged him with her shoulder, "You seem to be pretty good at it."

"Do I?" Joe smiled, blue eyes twinkling.

Sadie nodded, "You boys are going to become famous with the skill you have in your boat. Just wait, you'll see that I'm right and you'll forget all about me."

She turned her face away from him, not wanting to show him the expression that was likely painting her face.

Joe's calloused hand slid a long her cheek, gently guiding her gaze back to him. "I don't think I could forget you if I tried," he whispered, his voice so low she was sure she could only hear him because he was so close.

Her gaze dropped down to his soft lips again before flicking back up to his eyes. Joe didn't wait a moment and leaned forward, gently pressing their mouths together.

His lips were warm and so very soft against her own. He tasted of salt and something distinctly Joe that she ached for more of. She reached her own hand up, gliding her hand over his shoulder to the back of his neck and into his hair, pulling him closer.

He groaned softly into her mouth and twisted his head, deepening their kiss. Using the hand that wasn't caressing her face, he gripped onto her waist, just holding her softly against him.

She cursed herself for pulling away first but her lungs were begging her for oxygen. They stayed close, resting their foreheads against one another. Joe's breath kissed the apples of her cheek as he exhaled.

"We should probably get back to the dorms before someone notices I'm gone," she whispered.

"I'll row us back," Joe hummed in agreement, though his hands remained where they were. "But, one more kiss couldn't hurt."

His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded as he looked at her, waiting for her permission.

Sadie slid her hand back into his soft, blonde hair and if they shared a few more kisses than their only witnesses were the full moon above them and the open water that surrounded them.

A/N: Would anyone be interested in reading any more about Sadie and Joe?

[ad-caelestia]

common toxic plants

[long post; updated 12.8.24]

this is not a complete list by any means, but these commonly noted plants, herbs, and flowers should be handled with care or avoided altogether. 

aconite (wolfsbane, monkshood) - all parts: dermatoxic, hepatotoxic, and neurotoxic

adam and eve (jack-in-the-pulpit, wild arum) - root: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic if ingested

african sumac - leaves: dermatoxic; possibly fatal

agave - juice: dermatoxic  

angel’s trumpet - all parts: cardiotoxic; often fatal

apple - seeds: cytotoxic in large doses

apricot - leaves and seeds: cytotoxic in large doses

arnica - gastrotoxic 

asparagus - berries: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic if ingested

azalea - all parts: cytotoxic and neurotoxic; rarely fatal

betel nut palm (pinyang) - all parts: gastrotoxic if ingested

bittersweet nightshade - all parts: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic; rarely fatal

black hellebore - all parts: cardiotoxic and gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

black locust (false acacia) - root bark and flowers: gastrotoxic

black nightshade - all parts except ripe fruit: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

bleeding heart - leaves and roots: neurotoxic

bloodroot - rhizomes: cytotoxic

blue passion flower (common passion flower) - leaves: cytotoxic

bracken - all parts: carcinogenic

buttercup - all parts: gastrotoxic and dermatoxic 

calabar bean (ordeal beans) - seeds: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic if ingested in large doses

cassava - leaves and roots: cytotoxic in large doses

castor bean (castor oil plant) - seeds: cytotoxic if ingested or inhaled

celandine - nephrotoxic 

cherry - leaves and seeds: cytotoxic in large doses

christmas rose - all parts: gastrotoxic

cocklebur - seedlings and seeds: gastrotoxic and neurotoxic

columbine - seeds and roots: cardiotoxic; easily fatal

corn lily (false hellebore) - all parts: cardiotoxic; often fatal

cowbane (water hemlock, snakeweed) - root: neurotoxic if ingested

daffodil - bulbs and stems: gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

datura/moonflower - all parts: gastrotoxic and cardiotoxic

deadly nightshade (belladonna) - all parts: cardiotoxic and neurotoxic; often fatal

desert rose (sabi star, kudu) - sap: cardiotoxic with skin contact

dumbcane - all parts: dermatoxic; possibly fatal

elder (elderberry) - root: gastrotoxic

elephant ear (angel wings) - all parts: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic

ergot - neurotoxic 

foxglove - leaves, seeds, and flowers: cardiotoxic; often fatal

garlic - all parts: gastrotoxic in animals

giant hogweed - all parts: dermatoxic

golden chain - all parts, especially seeds: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

goldenseal - all parts: gastrotoxic and neurotoxic in large doses

grapes/raisins - all parts: gastrotoxic in dogs

greater celandine - all parts: gastrotoxic in large doses

hemlock (spotted cowbane, poison snakeweed) - all parts: neurotoxic; possibly fatal

hemlock water dropwort - roots: neurotoxic if ingested; possibly fatal

henbane - all parts: neurotoxic and cardiotoxic

holly - berries: gastrotoxic

honeybush - all parts: gastrotoxic

honeysuckle - berries: gastrotoxic in mild cases and cardiotoxic in severe cases

horse chestnut - all parts: neurotoxic

hyacinth - bulbs: gastrotoxic and neurotoxic; possibly fatal

iris - rhizomes: gastrotoxic and dermatoxic 

kava kava - nephrotoxic, hepatotoxic 

kidney bean - raw: gastrotoxic

larkspur - young plants and seeds: neurotoxic; often fatal

lemon - oil: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic to animals  

lily - all parts: nephrotoxic

lily of the nile (calla lily) - all parts: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic if ingested; possibly fatal

lily of the valley - all parts: cardiotoxic; possibly fatal

lima beans - raw: gastrotoxic

lime - oil: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic in animals

lobelia - all parts: gastrotoxic 

mandrake - roots and leaves: gastrotoxic and neurotoxic

mango - peel and sap: dermatoxic

mangrove - bark and sap: dermatoxic and eye irritation

mayapple - all green parts and unripe fruit: gastrotoxic

meadow saffron (autumn crocus) - bulbs: gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

mistletoe - leaves and berries: gastrotoxic, cardiotoxic, and neurotoxic; rarely lethal in adults

moonseed - fruits and seeds: gastrotoxic; often fatal

mountain laurel - all green parts: gastrotoxic

nutmeg - raw: psychoactive in large doses

oak - leaves and acorns: gastrotoxic; rarely fatal

odollam tree (suicide tree) - seeds: cardiotoxic; often fatal

oleander - all parts: dermatoxic, cardiotoxic, and gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

onions - all parts: gastrotoxic in animals

orange - oil: dermatoxic and gastrotoxic in animals

peach - seeds and leaves: cytotoxic in large doses

periwinkle (vinca) - all parts: neurotoxic and potentially fatal

pokeweed - leaves, berries, and roots: gastrotoxic; often fatal

poison ivy/oak/sumac - all parts, especially leaves: dermatoxic; possibly fatal

poison ryegrass (darnel) - seeds: neurotoxic

potato - raw: cytotoxic

privet - berries and leaves: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic; possibly fatal

ragwort - all parts: hepatotoxic

redoul - all parts: gastrotoxic, neurotoxic, and causes respiratory issues; can be fatal in children

rhubarb - leaves: nephrotoxic

rosary pea - seeds: neurotoxic and gastrotoxic; often fatal

skullcap - hepatotoxic

spindle (spindle tree) - fruit: hepatotoxic and nephrotoxic; possibly fatal  

stinging tree (gympie gympie) - bark and sap: dermatoxic; sometimes fatal

strychnine tree - seeds: neurotoxic; often fatal

sweet pea - seeds: neurotoxic and damaging to connective tissues

tomato - leaves and stems: cytotoxic in large doses

uva ursi - neurotoxic, dermatoxic 

white baneberry (doll’s eyes) - all parts, especially berries: cardiotoxic; possibly fatal

white snakeroot - all parts: gastrotoxic; often fatal

winter cherry (jerusalem cherry) - all parts, especially berries: gastrotoxic; occasionally fatal, especially to children

wisteria - gastrotoxic

yew (english yew, common yew) - leaves and seeds: gastrotoxic if ingested and respiratory issues if inhaled

glossary: 

carcinogenic - a substance that can cause cancer

cardiotoxic - toxic to the heart

cytotoxic - toxic to living cells

dermatoxic - toxic to the skin

gastrotoxic - toxic to the gastrointestinal system (stomach, intestines, etc.)

hepatotoxic - toxic to the liver

nephrotoxic - toxic to the kidneys and urological system (ureters, bladder)

neurotoxic - toxic to the neurological system (brain, nerves, brainstem, spinal cord, etc.)

psychoactive - pertaining to substances that change brain function and result in alterations in perception, mood, or consciousness

© 2024 ad-caelestia

[iheartnerdz]

💬 About Last Night (Miguel O’Hara x f!reader)

Summary: You and Miguel seemed to had a fun night last night, you storm out, and avoid him at all costs. However, you can’t find your phone, but you can’t face him yet; so you sneak back to his dorm hoping he’s not there to get your phone back

Content warning: 18+ and mentions of sex

A/N: First fanfic! I hope you guys enjoy ♡

Next chapter

— Chapter 1

Sunlight filtered through unfamiliar curtains, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. You stirred, blinking against the light, a dull ache in your head reminding you of last night's festivities. Groaning, you rolled over, expecting to feel the familiar embrace of your dorm bed, only to find yourself in a much less familiar bed.

Panic began to set in as you took in your surroundings: a neat, minimalistic room with posters of various scientific formulas and bands pinned to the walls, and faint smell of expensive cologne. This was definitely not your dorm room. You tried to recall how you got here, but the details of last night were fuzzy.

A deep voice broke the silence, causing you to jump. "Morning, sunshine." You turned to see Miguel O'Hara, one of the star students in the biochemistry program, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips. "You were great last night."

Your eyes widened in horror as his words sank in. Great last night? What did that mean? Before you could process further, a scream erupted from your throat. The scream seemed to echo in the room, and you scrambled out of bed, your limbs tangling in the sheets.

Grabbing your shoes from the floor, you bolted past him, muttering incoherent words. You raced down the hall of the dorm building, your heart pounding in your chest, cheeks burning with embarrassment. The few students who were awake at this hour gave you curious glances as you darted past, but you paid them no mind, focusing solely on getting back to the safety of your own room.

Slamming the door behind you, you leaned against it, trying to catch your breath. Your roommate, Lily, looked up from her laptop, her eyebrows raising in surprise. "Where have you been? And why do you look like you just ran a marathon?"

"Do you remember anything from last night?" you asked, your voice shaky.

Lily frowned, closing her laptop. "Not really. We went to that party at Sigma Chi, and you were with me until you went to get another drink. After that, you kind of disappeared. Why? What happened?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to explain the bizarre situation. "I woke up in Miguel’s bed."

Lily's eyes widened. "Miguel? As in Miguel O'Hara, the guy who fucks anyone in sight? What happened?"

"I don't know!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in exasperation. "I have no idea how I got there or what happened. He said something about me being great last night, but I don't remember anything!"

Lily's expression turned serious. "Okay, let's think this through. Did he seem...I don't know, weird or anything?"

You shook your head, trying to recall the brief encounter. "He seemed amused, like he found the whole thing funny."

Lily stood up, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "We need to get to the bottom of this. Maybe he can explain what happened. You should talk to him."

The thought of facing Miguel again made your stomach churn. “Absolutely not.” You aspirated as you headed to the bathroom.

“Y/N!” Lily exclaimed.

“No! Screw him!” You slammed the bathroom door.

You undressed and looked in the mirror. Seriously? How did I manage to mess up this bad? You step into the shower and turned on the water.

The hot water did little to wash away the anxiety swirling in your mind, but it did help you feel slightly more human. Once you were dressed in fresh clothes, you felt marginally better, but the prospect of running into Miguel still loomed over you.

Chemistry class that you have with Miguel has ended, and you successfully avoided him like the plague. However, your relief was short-lived. As you reached for your phone to check the time, your stomach dropped. Your phone wasn’t in your backpack. In your hurry to escape Miguel’s dorm this morning, you must have left it there. The thought of going back filled you with dread, but you couldn’t just leave it.

That evening, you decided to sneak into Miguel’s dorm while he was likely to be out. You waited until it was late enough that most people would be at the dining hall or hanging out with friends. With a deep breath, you made your way to Miguel’s dorm, praying he wasn’t there.

The door was unlocked, much to your relief, but not surprised either. Easy access for girls, I guess. You slipped inside, closing it quietly behind you. The room looked the same as you remembered, and you quickly began searching for your phone. It wasn’t on the desk or the bedside table. You checked under the pillows and around the bed, but it was nowhere to be found.

Just as you were about to give up, you heard the doorknob jiggle. Panic surged through you, and you dived under the bed, holding your breath. The door opened, and you saw Miguel’s shoes step into the room, followed by another pair of shoes—strappy heels. Your heart sank.

“Nice room,” the girl said, her voice light and flirtatious.

“Thanks,” Miguel replied. “Make yourself comfortable.”

You could see their feet moving around, and then suddenly, the bed above you dipped as the girl slammed him down.

“Easy there,” Miguel chuckled.

But the movement had startled you, and you let out an involuntary yelp. The room fell silent.

“What was that?” the girl asked, her voice tense.

Miguel’s voice was cautious. “Sounded like something from under my bed.”

You froze as you saw Miguel’s shoes approach the side of the bed. He crouched down, peering under it, and his eyes met yours. You gave him a cheeky smile, despite your racing heart.

“Oh hey there, lovely weather we’re having here, huh?”

[sugarcreambiteskingdom]

https://www.tumblr.com/dollyrin/764243962401849344/hey-yo-can-i-request-headcannons-of-the-ancient?source=share

I'm not the original Anon but I would like to see your take on this idea

Cream Oreo Cookie: Sure thing! I'll do my best because I didn't read the whole thing and only the ask of it 😅

Pure Vanilla Cookie

The way you steal everything in his castle and then bring it back confuses him and got him interested in it actually

Instead of stealing the artifact or anything that holds great value in history or could be sold for riches you bring it back

Though there is one thing you stole that you never went and give it back which was his heart

As he walks through the halls just to get a glass of water he would saw a glimpse of you in the darkness on the window ready to leave..."Y/N Cookie?" He called out to you

Which you only turned your head around and gave him a wink which immediately made him blush and had his heart skip a beat

And just like that...you took his heart and never gave it back...which he doesn't mind at all actually...

Now every once in a while he will stay up and wait for you...

White Lily Cookie

She was confused on what you want to steal from her when she barely has anything that worths anything since she's always on the move...

Unless you want her soul jam that is? And yet you never touched it..

But you did stole her tools and items she needs for her expedition and has to wait a whole day for you to give it back

She got used to it at this point and while she waits for her items to brought back she improvised to what she can use which actually helped her to be more creative with her ways of doing things like...climbing a mountain...getting something away from her path...or how to light a campfire and etc

You we're very helpful and Wonderful in her perspective..

And she wants to also thank you for giving her flowers in each item you gave back to her

Hollyberry Cookie

You are one cheeky Cookie to be stealing her juice every once and awhile and give it back while putting sticky notes on every juice you stole giving it ratings whether you like them or not which surprised her and actually find it quite funny and entertaining

At this point she would put one of her personal favorites out and check if you like it and some of it did made it to be one of your favorites which she was glad

Wild berry Cookie on the other hand is confused to why Her Majesty is even entertaining this but unfortunately he can't do anything about it let alone his son either...

So they let her be

In one of the juice you stole you actually found a sticky note on it saying..."You do know having juice all alone is very dull right? But having a plus one doesn't!"

Dark Cacao Cookie

You are one very odd Cookie for him

I mean how can you break in his walls and stole some of his weapons but what is much more baffling is the fact you put it back where you find them

You even out sticky note on some weapons saying where you got in and how you managed to get the said weapon which...helped him to actually be more secure and improvised with his way of securing his kingdom which he..thank you for that...

Those notes also have small puns from here and there which he unfortunately inherited from you despite how he has it but...because of you...he starts to actually smile which he won't admit Ofcourse

Golden Cheese Cookie

She was amazed from your greediness and how you managed to get pass her most trusted and most strongest guard of the gates Burnt Cheese Cookie

You stole a lot of gold from her and yet you give it back...you are one interesting Thief Y/N Cookie

She told Burnt Cheese Cookie to actually let you pass which he was baffle and even was taken a back from that but...he can't do anything because her Majesty has made up her mind so...he lets you in whether he likes it or not

Until...you gave her a sticky note saying to let him fight you because you had fun playing with him and his jackals and snakes

Burnt Cheese Cookie was not sure if he should be annoyed or relief to not let in a thief like you into the Golden City whether you give the stolen items back or not

Golden Cheese Cookie was entertained by your greediness and wondered if you plan on stealing more artifacts from her in her Golden City and Palace

[al-of-the-stars]

"Lily of the Valley"

Lute x GN Angel Reader

Synopsis: After being saved from a near-death encounter, you slowly fall in love with Lute, the very same angel who had rescued you. Little do you know, she harbors the same feelings for you.

A/n: I honestly had this idea in a dream and when I remembered it, my first thought was "holy shit I GOTTA write this" Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

You never had much of a relationship with Lute. Sure, you were pretty good acquaintances but there wasn’t much more to it than that. You both worked for the exorcist army but she was on the battlefield while you were on the sidelines as a strategist, planning the exterminators' next move. That was until one extermination. While you were lost in your own plans, your eyes practically glued to the map in your hands,you failed to notice the demon behind you holding an angelic weapon. Just when the sinner was about to stab you, you felt another presence nearby. When you turned around, you saw none other than the lieutenant of the exorcists herself, covered in splashes of crimson. Your eyes went wide and you felt golden blood rush to your face, though you couldn't tell if it was from the near-death experience you just had or how attractive Lute looked while killing that unholy soul. You thought it was most likely the latter. “Are you alright? You aren't hurt anywhere, are you?” Those words snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Oh I think I'm fine, thank you,”

“It's not a problem, I'm glad you're okay,” You could have sworn you saw the face on her mask turn into a smile, but you didn't have enough time to comprehend anything as she dashed off flying. Since that day, you grew much closer. During training, you couldn't help but take glances at her. Unbeknownst to you due to the limited expression of her mask, she was doing the same. When you looked her way, she would try extra hard to impress you. All the other exorcists noticed and attempted to wingman her in their spare time.

“Just tell them already!”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

“They look at you like a lovesick anime schoolgirl, there is no way they don't like you back,” After practice, you two would usually visit a cafe and just chat; your company was the highlight of her day. This became routine and slowly, your relationship and feelings grew more and more until it became unbearable to hold it in. Lute finally got sick of those outings being just a hangout between two friends, she was sick of looking at you and wishing she could just grab your waist and pull you in for a kiss, she was sick of pretending she didn't love you. Another day of training passed by and as you walked out the door of the cafe, Lute handed you an envelope.

“Open this when you get home,” She instructed. The walk back to your house felt like forever and the curiosity was practically killing you. The moment you walked through the door, you opened the neatly sealed envelope.

“Dear Y/n,

I was originally going to write a poem to explain how I felt but I'm not too great with metaphors or meanings, so I'll be straightforward with you like always. I love you. I can't help but admire you when you do the most regular things. I have fallen in love with everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your voice. If you feel the same, next time we visit somewhere after practice, I hope it can be a date.

-Lute”

Along with the letter, there was a flower. More specifically, it was a lily of the valley, a flower that represents love and sincerity. You picked up the lily and put it in a vase with water. Who knew the stone-cold lieutenant had a heart of gold?

[gingacat]

twisted from: Myth of the Victoria Water Lily

name: Lily V. Maven

birthday: February 12 (Aquarius)

age: 16

height: 155 cm

homeland: Starway River, a river that starts in the Oniric Rainforest and crosses the Golden Cordilleras. (my fan made locations)

grade: Freshman

class: D

club: Film Research club

best subject: Astrology

worst subject: History of magic

dorm: Astromunay (my Yzma fan dorm)

hobbies: Stargazing

pet peeves: Heartless people

favorite food: Avocado with sugar

least favorite food: Meat

talent: Acrobatic diving

nicknames: Mavis (Cater), Seaweed (Floyd), Mademoiselle Clown (Rook), Leaf bug (Miyuu)

quotes:

“What am I doing? Well, I'm counting clouds. It sounds boring but it's lots of fun, I totally recommen— Hey?! Why are you walking away?!”

Personality

At first glance, Lily seems to be innocent and naive, but she is still a fae from the Oniric Rainforest, a place known for its mystical and mischievous creatures. She is a playful person who loves playing tricks on people and talking in ambiguous ways that leave others confused. She also finds it fun to pretend to be dumb, when in fact she's secretly really smart.

It's easy to get along with her, but you have to be careful not to believe 100% in what she says. She likes riddles and puzzles and expresses herself or her thoughts through either weird metaphors or by using sarcasm that sounds genuine. It is hard to know when she is joking and when she's not.

But Lily is not that complex, it's just her nature to act in a more playful way, she just wants to have fun and thinks her way of acting will also bring fun to other people. She likes teasing others, but if she sees that she has hurt someone, she'll immediately stop and apologize.

When she is upset, Lily becomes quiet and distant, seeming to be in an entirely different place inside of her head.

She is obsessed with astronomy and when someone awakens her love for it, she gets extremely excited, rambling about stars, planets, galaxies, the universe, etc. Lily gets really happy when people actually listen or are invested in what she says, loving to share an interest of hers to others.

Background

Her father, Levi, is a water fae and her mother, Rosario, is a wood fae. Lily is their only child.

Her parents were always fighting, always stressed by their own personal lives, and the overall mood of the household was dark, sorrowful. Levi was fond of Space though, and he enjoyed taking Lily to go stargazing. Ever since she was very young, she was enamored with the stars.

Lily's first memory with stargazing was unforgettable. She remembers she was very upset that day and couldn't stop crying because she was the reason her parents had fought. Not wanting his daughter to be sad, Levi took her to see how beautiful the sky looked that night. For the first time in her life, Lily had seen something that wasn't gloomy nor dark, but shining so bright that it had touched her heart. Just as she was looking at the stars, the stars were looking back at her, embracing her with all their warm and beautiful luster.

Lily imagined how it would be like to be there, shining right next to the Moon. She wanted to be like the stars, who make people happier, who brighten people's moods even when everything seems to be horrible, even when the entire world seems to be so dark and so lonely.

Although, because of her mischievous nature, she eventually found a more playful way to shine and bring joy: by making others laugh.

Trivia

Her age is counted in human years because her mother is half-human and half-fae so Lily is not 100% fae. (i had to humanize Lily bc fae years are just so complicated 😭)

Lily mispronounces Diasomnia for Dysnomia, the name of a moon. Sebek keeps correcting her, but she never gets it right. (she's doing it on purpose)

She can breathe underwater.

Lily is very interested in scientific theories and loves debating about them. (ex: wormhole theory, panspermia theory, things like that)

She is the class clown. She keeps asking the most outrageously stupid questions to the teachers and manages to make the entire class laugh. (except for Sebek, lmao)

Lily never met Malleus but she would probably call him her broski.

If anyone is curious, the Victoria Water Lily myth tells the story of a woman who drowned after leaning towards a river to touch the reflection of the Moon, since she was in love with the Moon. The Moon (or Goddess of the Moon) was known for choosing women and turning them into stars, but to honor that woman who drowned, the Moon turned her into a Victoria Regia (water lily), which is known as the "Star of the waters".

[cailinsblog]

Summer Magic at the Hughes Family Lake | Quinn hughes

Dad Quinn hughes x mom reader

Masterlist

Quinn Hughes, star defenseman for the Vancouver Canucks, cherished his time off with his wife Y/N and their daughter Lily. This summer, they decided to head to the Hughes family lake, a place filled with childhood memories and serenity. As they drove up to the lake house, nestled among tall pines and overlooking the crystal-clear waters, Quinn's heart swelled with nostalgia.

Y/N couldn't contain her excitement. She had heard countless stories from Quinn about his summers spent at the lake, and now, she finally had the chance to experience it for herself. Lily, their precious three-year-old daughter, bounced with anticipation, her eyes wide with wonder as she took in the lush surroundings.

The family gathered their things and made their way down to the dock. The sun was shining brightly overhead, casting a golden glow on the water. Quinn held Lily's hand as they walked along the wooden planks, the scent of pine trees and fresh lake air filling their lungs.

As they reached the edge of the dock, Lily's eyes twinkled with excitement. She had never seen a lake before, and the vast expanse of water stretched out before her like a shimmering playground. With a giggle, she kicked off her shoes and dipped her toes into the cool water, sending ripples dancing across the surface.

Quinn and Y/N watched with hearts full of love as Lily waded further into the lake, her laughter echoing across the water. Quinn scooped her up in his arms and twirled her around, the sunlight catching in her curls like spun gold.

After a day of swimming, fishing, and indulging in sweet treats by the shore, the family gathered around a crackling fire pit as the sun began to dip below the horizon. The flames cast a warm glow on their faces as they roasted marshmallows and shared stories.

As the evening wore on, Lily nestled in Y/N's lap, her eyes heavy with sleep. Quinn wrapped his arms around his girls, the crackle of the fire and the gentle lapping of the water providing the perfect lullaby.

In that moment, under the starlit sky and surrounded by the ones he loved most, Quinn knew that the memories made at the Hughes family lake would be cherished for a lifetime. It was a summer filled with magic, love, and the beauty of new beginnings.

And so, as they drifted off to sleep, the lake whispered its secrets, promising to hold onto their memories like treasures in the depths of its sparkling waters. The Hughes family lake had woven its enchantment around them, forever a place of joy, love, and summer magic.

[f0rlorn]

days spent in the sun → treech

a/n → making coral’s moodboard sent me into a spiral and now i have moodboards for every district 😭 is it worth it to post?

notes → in which nature is the perfect place for treech to show his love for you. feminine intended reader (though not sure pronouns are mentioned)

warnings → not edited & upload via iphone

     your hands were wrapped around treech’s arm as he carefully lifted his axe up to the tree, beginning to carve the shape of a heart. he was prudent in his work, meticulously shaving the bark off of the tree from inside the shape he had formed. you watched him silently, in awe of his handiwork. the result was a perfect heart shaped carving, permanently engraved on the tree. beaming, you pressed a quick peck to the boy’s cheek, then pulled him along with you as you walked atop a tree trunk bridge back to the lake. currently, the two of you were clad only in your undergarments, having gone out with the intention of swimming for the whole day. your clothes were strewn over the branch of a fallen oak, basking in the sun. the water was freezing, a stark contrast to the midsummer heat that lingered in the air. treech held your hand as you stepped in, prepared to catch you if you accidentally slipped. at first, you sunk into the shallow water leisurely, but as the water reached your hips, you let go of treech’s hand, completely submerging yourself in order to get used to the temperature. as you arose, your teeth chattered, but a grin was still plastered on your face.

     “get in, the water’s great!” you invited treech to join you with a sarcastic remark as he stood to the side, opting to just watch you. you could tell he contemplated it, but he denied, shaking his head. “where’s the fun in that?” you whined.

     “i’ve gotta do something first.” he simply replied, a roguish glint in his eyes. you were suspicious, but let him do his own thing as you bathed in the water and sunshine. the gravelly sand that covered the bottom of the pond indented the skin on the underside of your legs, adding a soothing pressure as you sat down, letting the water ripple around you. many minutes passed, and you grew restless the more time you spent alone in the water. venturing further into the pond, schools of minnows could be found darting rapidly. they brushed past your skin, maneuvering around your moving form. all was quiet aside from the waves of the water as you forded through. a rustle in the bushes from behind you startled you, causing you to jump and turn around quickly. treech had come back, his hands behind his back.

     “whatcha got there?” you queried, swimming over to him as he kneeled by the water. he just smiled, pulling out a bouquet of colorful wildflowers from behind him. vibrant pink poppies, orange lilies, mauve colored petunias, a few orchids scattered here and there, and yellow wallflowers galore all seemed to bloom from his hand. you were in complete and utter astonishment at the bundle of flowers and the work he had gone through to pick them for you. they were tied together with a loose stem, and you delicately took them from his hand. mother nature’s sweet scent wafted from the stunning plants, instantly soothing you. “these are beautiful, treech,” he grinned, eyes lighting up with pride. his smile always made you melt, and the way his hazel eyes, speckled with green and honey tones, glowed golden in the sun made him seem ethereal. laying the flowers down gently on the grass beside treech, you draped your arms around his neck, placing a tender kiss on his lips. treech gradually joined you in the water, but not before you plucked the sole, pale blue morning glory from the bouquet and tucked it behind his ear, brushing his curls out of his eyes. he took your hand as you guided him further into the pond. the two of you splashed around, laughing for hours until your fingers pruned.

     treech had to drag you out of the water as the sun got lower and lower, the sky growing a burnt orange. you groaned playfully, but shook the water out of your hair anyway, allowing it to drip on the grass below you. the earth felt cool and damp under your bare feet, and the wind blew against your body, making you shiver. quickly, you slipped your shirt over your head, and tied your skirt around your waist, hoping to gain some warmth from the items of clothing that had been strewn out in the sun all day. it seemed to work, but your arms were still bare and the wind was picking up. treech noticed the goosebumps that had formed all along your forearms, and he helped you into his wool coat. smiling, you thanked him, grateful for the extra source of heat. gracefully, you picked up your dainty bouquet of flowers. intertwining your fingers with his, treech led you out of the familiar woods, taking you down the roads of district seven, back to your home. like the gentleman he was, treech walked you to your door, waiting to make sure you got inside safely before leaving. he was just about to leave as you slipped through the front door, but you called his name before he could go any further. he raised his eyebrows, urging you to go on.

     “i love you,” you professed, coyly.

     “i love you more,” treech declared with a smile, before promptly turning and bidding you goodnight, the flower still adorning his hair. 

[chdarling-tle]

The Last Enemy: Dark Marks Soundtrack

Hello my loves! With TLE2 coming to a close, I thought I'd share the full TLE2 soundtrack. You can listen to it here, or I've included the track list below for those who don't use Spotify.

As before, this is a total mishmash of period appropriate and anachronistic music. The genres are all over the place. Some songs directly correlate to the plot, some songs are mentioned in the story, some are pure vibes. It's pretty long...but so is TLE2. 😌

Enjoy!!!

Track list under the cut:

The Times They Are A-Changin’ - Fort Nowhere

She Used To Love Me a Lot - Johnny Cash

Never Had No One Ever - The Smiths

Cherry Bomb - The Runaways

Father and Son - Cat Stevens

Water Under the Bridge - Tow’rs

She’s Not There - The Zombies

Break On Through (To The Other Side) - The Doors

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - George Harrison

Raining in My Heart - Buddy Holly

Family Line - Conan Gray

With a Little Help From My Friends - Joe Anderson (Across the Universe)

Love Hurts - Roy Orbison

It’s Alright - Mother Mother

Bad Reputation - Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood - Nina Simone

Play With Fire - The Rolling Stones

Edge of Seventeen - Stevie Nicks

Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley

The Princess Diaries Waltz (Score) - John Debney

Astronomy - Conan Gray

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - Judy Garland

Dead Mom - Sophia Anne Caruso

Vincent - Don McLean

You’ve Got To Hide Your Love Away - The Beatles

Mis-Shapes - Pulp

Golden Years - David Bowie

It’s a Heartache - Bonnie Tyler

Stayin Alive - Bee Gees

Dancing Queen - ABBA

I’d Love to Change the World - Ten Years After

Be More Kind - Frank Turner

One Toke Over the Line - Brewer & Shipley

Flying - The Beatles

Baba O'Riley - The Who

Villain - Maisie Peters

Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've?) - Buzzcocks

Will the Circle Be Unbroken - The Carter Family, Johnny Cash

This Woman's Work - Kate Bush

April Come She Will - Simon & Garfunkel

evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - Taylor Swift

For What It's Worth - Buffalo Springfield

You Belong to Somebody Else - PJ Harding, Noah Cyrus

Know Your Rights - The Clash

Broken Crown - Mumford & Sons

Fire - Etta James

Knockin' On Heaven's Door - Bob Dylan

Lily - Benjamin Gibbard

Dancing Queen - stories, Lizzy McAlpine

God Only Knows (Acoustic Slowed + Reverb) - Jae Hall

Homeward Bound - Simon & Garfunkel

Back to the Old House - The Smiths

New World Coming - Cass Elliot

...and one more secret song that I'll add after chapter 71 ;)

[petals2fish]

RIPTIDE

Read on A03 for July @jilychallenge prompt: surfing lessons and sexy wetsuits. This oneshot was too long and is now a three chapter story, so enjoy!!!

Summary: Nothing gets between Lily Evans and her board. Living near the beach with two roommates including her naggy older sister, she is up before dawn every morning to conquer the waves and count the days until the Morro Bay surf competition. Lily finds all she needs in the surf scene ... until pro quarterback James Potter comes along. Like it or not, Lily starts losing her balance - and finding it - as she falls for James.

“Don’t drift out too far!” Petunia’s voice mixed with the seagulls, “I’m not coming after you if you get sucked into a riptide!”

“You worry too much,” Lily shouted over her shoulder.

The ocean was an expanse of endless blue, wild and breathtakingly beautiful. She could lie on her board forever, drifting with the tide, staring out over the white-capped, ruffled waves. Occasionally, an otter would drift by, its serene presence contrasting with the sight of a dolphin’s fin cutting through the water. The waves were terrible for surfing that day but perfect for slipping away into her thoughts.

Her fingers swirled through the water as she hummed her favorite song from the radio that week. Her legs kicked up behind her, waving in the wind, her white-painted toes dipping into the water playfully every few minutes. Her red hair was unbound, the hair tie long retired to her wrist, allowing the ends to soak in the salt water. A heavy but contented sigh escaped her lips as she rolled onto her back, her gaze shifting from the ocean blue to the sky blue.

Lily Evans was born in California after her father moved to San Diego for his military career. Her early years were filled with the scent of plumeria and the sound of the ocean. But when her mother died, her father left the military and, unable to cope with the loss, left the world a few months later. He’d left sixteen year old Lily in the care of her older sister. Petunia and Lily couldn’t have been more different—Petunia was practical and grounded, while Lily was a dreamer with a love for the ocean.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, its rays reflecting off the water, Lily noticed Petunia and Marley waving from nearby where they floated with their boards. The carefree moments of drifting were over; the wave meant it was time to face the responsibilities of the day. Lily sighed, knowing she couldn't delay any longer. The ocean, her refuge, would have to wait. She paddled back towards the shore, her heart heavy with the weight of reality pressing in once more.

"Come on, Lily," Petunia nagged as Lily leisurely paddled over to the girls. "We can’t be late again!”

"Yeah, yeah," Lily rolled her eyes, but picked up her pace because she knew they needed the job for the money.

Petunia was the oldest of the three girls, the skinniest, and always clad in her six-year-old one-piece and purple and black wetsuit. The purple clashed with Petunia’s dirty blonde hair and over-tanned, reddened face, but Petunia was a creature of habit. She’d wear the wetsuit to pieces if she had too.

"Come on," Petunia urged, practically racing for the shore, her thin arms carving through the water.

"Petunia we’re coming as fast as we can," Marley huffed, paddling in front of Lily but directly behind Petunia. "Chill, please, or I’m sneaking pot into the brownies this weekend."

Marlene, the youngest by only a month as she constantly reminded Lily, had curly black hair, thick expressive brows, and a beautiful golden tan. She was undeniably the hottest one, she got all the guys, even the ones she didn’t want. Marley only wore a bikini today, absolutely taking advantage of the warmer weather even though the pacific was still cold.

"One day I’ll bring home the big bucks and we won’t even have to ever leave the water," Lily shouted after them playfully, “I’ll have maids cook and clean for us all day so we can just surf.”

If Lily looked in a mirror, she'd see a face covered in freckles from her time in the sun. Her red hair was her statement piece, attracting attention and making her look more like she’d stepped out of Ireland than California. Her cropped rashguard was doing little to protect her from the sun or the waves, but she liked to show off the abs she’d worked so hard to get.

"Come on!" Petunia exclaimed, "I've seen children swim faster than you two!"

The girls reached the shore just as the first tourists started to arrive, equipped with their sunglasses and lawn chairs. Other locals were clearing out, unwilling to deal with tourists taking over the beach and sandbars. Lily wiped down her board, then began peeling off her rashguard, the fabric clinging stubbornly to her wet skin like a banana peel.

They didn’t have a car, but they managed to hitch a ride in Alex Graff’s truck, which took them halfway to the resort just up the beach. In Lily’s opinion, the resort was the nicest on Morro Bay. Built only ten years ago, its sleek design featured walls of glass that reflected the ocean and gave it a modern, luxurious appearance. As they approached, the building seemed to sparkle in the sunlight, but Lily dreaded heading inside because it meant it was time to work.

Being a cleaning lady in hotel rooms hadn’t been on her list of ‘most impressive jobs to have’ but it paid for the expensive shack on the other side of town where the girls lived together. The rest of the money went into maintaining her board, surfing competition fees, and what food money was left over. The girls tumbled into the staff locker rooms, pulling their maid outfits from the lockers as they laughed and ate apples Marley had nicked from the breakfast lounge.

“I’m going out with Vernon Dursley again tonight,” Petunia said as she pulled the gray dress over her body, her wet hair staining the fabric.

“Ew, that toolbag from Piper Tech Industries?” Lily wrinkled her nose. “Petty, you can do so much better.”

Petunia shrugged. “He’s making six figures a year, Lily, and one of us needs to marry well.”

Lily tossed her bikini top at her sister. “You act like I’m going to marry some slum.”

“Your last boyfriend was Raymond from the post office,” Marley sang from her locker, “and he’s as slummy as they come.”

Lily flipped Marley off while Petunia laughed. It was rare for those two to gang up on Lily. Usually, it was the other way around, and Lily hated it when it happened. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t help but admire Petunia’s determination and practicality. Petunia always had a knack for thinking ahead and making choices that secured a stable future, even if Lily didn’t always agree with her decisions.

Last week Lily had been forced to get an expensive plan B from the Wal Mart in the next city over because she’d let a stranger at a bar fuck her without a condom. Meanwhile, Petunia was on date number five with the IT guy from Piper technologies and they hadn’t even kissed yet.

Lily and Petunia were not the same.

The girls were stationed on the second floor, where there was currently an influx of professional football players enjoying the spa and amenities during the off-season. They were from the team in San Francisco, but Lily didn’t know much more than that. The only sport she cared about was surfing. Even as she started making beds, her eyes wandered to the window panes, constantly drawn to the sight of the ocean.

In just two weeks, the championship surfing competition would be held in Morro Bay. Despite training hard for the last year, Lily felt totally unprepared. She knew she could surf, and surf well, but she was so concerned that once she was up against the real professionals, Petunia would force her to give up her dream of going pro and make her focus on college instead. The pressure was immense. She felt torn between her love for surfing and the expectations placed upon her. Every wave she caught in practice carried the weight of her aspirations, and every wipeout felt like a step further from her dream.

"Hey, this room left us a tip!" Marley called from the bathroom, holding up a hundred-dollar bill where they could see it.

"What?" Lily and Petunia gasped, racing over to Marley to stare at the bill.

"Are you sure they didn't just forget it?" Petunia asked worriedly, snatching the crisp bill from Marley's fingertips. "I mean, this is a lot of money."

Marley shrugged, a grin spreading across her face. "I found it tucked under the soap dispenser. Doesn't look like an accident to me."

Lily's eyes widened, and she glanced around the room, half-expecting someone to burst in and reclaim the money. "This is crazy. Do people usually tip this much?"

"Not in my experience," Petunia said, still holding the bill like it might disappear any second. "But maybe these football players are just really generous."

"Or really messy," Marley laughed. "Maybe it's a bribe for not complaining about the state they left the rooms in yesterday."

"The rooms were pretty disgusting yesterday," Lily agreed, "I still can't decide if that was blood or ketchup on the walls."

All the girls shuddered then Petunia said, "This room wasn't bad at all this week, though."

“This room has been the nicest out of all of them so far,” Lily agreed. "Either way, it's a nice surprise. We should split it."

Petunia hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, you're right. But let's be careful. If anyone asks, we found it and turned it in."

"Agreed," Marley said, her grin widening. "But we’re eating steak this weekend, ladies.”

The other rooms down the long hall hadn’t been quick cleans, and none of them had left any tips to keep them motivated. By the time they reached the last room, Lily was eager to be finished. She leaned against the solid wood door and knocked politely.

“Housekeeping!” she called out. When there was no response, she knocked again and raised her voice. “Housekeeping!”

When there was no answer, Lily pushed the door open and was immediately hit with a wave of unpleasant odors. She quickly covered her nose, her eyes stinging and watering, as she forced the door open wider. The sight that greeted her almost made her gag.

The room was a complete disaster. Clothes were strewn haphazardly across the floor, and half-eaten food was scattered on the sofa and beds. Empty beer bottles were littered everywhere, adding to the mess. To make matters worse, there were visible signs of someone having thrown up, with streaks and splatters of vomit on the carpet and furniture. The entire room reeked of stale beer and something far more foul.

“Oh hell no,” Marlene exclaimed, peering over Lily’s shoulder. “There’s no way I’m touching this.”

Petunia covered her nose and added, “We don’t have a choice, guys.”

“This is the worst I’ve seen in ages,” Lily said, stepping over a pizza box filled with half-eaten slices.

“Football players are gross,” Marley complained, carefully tiptoeing around the mess.

“This is just awful,” Lily agreed, her eyes watering from the stench. “I can barely stand it.”

“Come on Lily,” Petunia urged, trying and failing to look undisturbed, “help me make the bed.”

Lily walked over, with Marley trailing closely behind her, preparing to grab the other side of the white sheets that desperately needed a good cleaning. Suddenly, Marley cried out behind her, as if she was in pain. Lily spun around, expecting to find her friend nursing a bloody foot from a broken beer bottle. Instead, she saw Marley hopping up and down with a piece of plastic stuck to her foot.

“Get it off, Lily!” Marley pleaded, collapsing against the wall—one of the only clean spots in the room. She held her foot up and cried, “Ew, ew! It's stuck! It won’t come off!”

“What is it?” Petunia called from the other side of the bed.

Lily wrinkled her nose and grimaced. “Oh gross, it’s a condom.”

“Please, get it off!” Marley begged, hopping in place.

“Hold your foot still!” Lily snapped at Marley, pulling her gloves up higher on her wrists.

With a shudder, Lily peeled the condom off, her entire body crawling with revulsion at the thought of why it was so stiff.

Marlene slumped, as if she was defeated. ‘Fuck men.”

“I’ve had enough of this, we are not their mothers.” Lily grabbed the small trash can from the desk, acutely aware of Petunia and Marley’s anxious gazes as she headed for the door.

Petunia noticed the wild look in Lily’s eyes and warned, “Lily—”

Lily’s voice was tight with frustration as she snapped, “No,” without turning around. “I’m not touching this room, and I’m going to let the guest know why.” She strode purposefully to the elevator, her footsteps echoing her determination, while Marley and Petunia’s desperate pleas faded behind her.

Ignoring their calls, Lily exited the elevator and pushed through the back door of the resort. Stepping onto the beach, she was met with the mingled sounds of laughter, chatter, and waves lapping at the shore. Her shoes sank into the warm sand, and the salty breeze stung her cheeks as she scanned the area, searching for someone to blame for the mess she had just left behind.

Raising her voice above the ambient noise, she called out, "Is anyone from room 215 here?"

When no one responded, she made her way down the beach toward a group of men lounging on lawn chairs. She locked eyes with a hazel-eyed man wearing a maroon and gold baseball cap. His charming smile momentarily distracted her, but she forced herself to speak.

"Gentlemen, room 215?" she asked.

The hazel-eyed man glanced at the condom in her hand and the trash can in her other hand, his gaze lingering on the latter. "Nope," he replied, his eyes shifting back to her. “You okay?”

“Fine.” Before he could say more, she turned and headed toward the water's edge. "Is anyone from room 215 out here in the water?"

“What?” a pudgy young man in a white tank top shouted from his floating noodle.

“Suite 215? Is it yours?” Lily called out to him.

She could feel the eyes of onlookers behind her, their curiosity piqued. She tapped her foot on the sand, maintaining a face of cool, formal disgust—her best customer service expression. The man stumbled onto the shore like a clumsy sea lion, nearly colliding with her. She stepped back, keeping her composure.

“I’m in 215. What’d I win?” he asked with a grin.

“Hi, I’m Lily, the housekeeper for your rooms during your stay here at the resort,” she replied.

“Peter,” he said, still grinning.

“Do you have a sec, Peter?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said in a sleazy tone. “Take all the time you want, sugar-whooger.”

Lily bit back the urge to kick him where it would hurt. She lifted the condom she was holding into the air, and his eyes, along with everyone else’s in the vicinity, followed its trajectory. “Step one,” she said. Then she dropped the condom into the trash can she was carrying. “Step two.” She flashed a sickly sweet smile. “Got it, sugar?”

His friend, still in the water, burst into laughter. “You got schooled by the maid.”

Peter stuttered, “I’m on vacation. You don’t have to clean your own room on vacation…”

“You’re cleaning your room today, buddy,” Lily warned, “and every day after until you leave.”

“That's ridiculous–”

Lily gave him a crisp salute before turning on her heel. As she walked back up the sand, she caught the eye of the handsome man. He was sitting up, the sun gleaming off his tanned chest. She felt her stomach lurch when he smiled at her with a fucking look that promised her a good time if she stopped.

“Most people are scared to talk like that to our linebacker.” He said loudly enough that she couldn’t ignore his piercing gaze.

“I’m not afraid of anyone,” she responded with a small, mocking bow.

“Wait! Can I take you out for a drink?” he called after her retreating form.

“I’m too busy cleaning up your friends’ messes,” she replied, continuing on her way.

"Ouch." But he laughed a deep, pleasurable laugh that would make her toes curl if she heard it in private.

Whispers followed her from behind, “Don’t waste your time on her, she'd just a maid.”

"She's going to be in so much trouble."

Lily heard one of the girls that worked the bar who saw the whole encounter add, “Lily’s made grown men cry before.”

“My kind of woman.” Lily felt her cheeks reddened and she glanced back to see hazel eyes following her up the beach with interest.

Lily trudged back to the resort, her steps heavy as the weight of her confrontation sank in. That guest was furious and would likely report her to management. She wondered why she had let her temper get the best of her again. When she got back upstairs, Petunia and Marley were waiting for her with disapproving looks.

“What did you do?” Petunia asked, her voice faint.

“I took care of it,” Lily replied, placing the trash can in front of the door. “That guy will clean his own room.”

“You’d better not get fired,” Petunia hissed. “Rent is due, and we still have to come up with the extra two hundred for the Morro competition.”

“Lay off her, Pet,” Marley said. “She was only trying to help.”

Lily let the girls bicker, staying silent to avoid getting dragged into the argument.

As Lily wrapped up her work processing sheets in the basement, she found Mrs. Thompson, the maid supervisor, waiting by her locker with an air of stern disapproval. Petunia and Marlene stood behind Thompson, shaking their heads at Lily as if to warn her not to make any sudden moves. Word must’ve gotten around then, probably because of the gossip beach bar babes.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Mrs. Thompson’s voice was cold and accusatory. “That display on the beach was completely unprofessional.”

Lily shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks flushed. “It was disgusting. Did you see their room?”

“They are VIP guests!” Mrs. Thompson cut her off sharply. “They don’t pay good money to be lectured by a housekeeper about hygiene!”

“But there was vomit all over the floor!” Lily protested, her voice rising slightly.

Mrs. Thompson’s eyes narrowed with frustration. “And making a scene in front of other guests is how you handle it? What you did was completely out of line. You can pick up your final paycheck next week.”

Lily bit her lip, struggling to keep her composure. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“You’re fired, Evans.” Mrs. Thompson sighed, leaning back in her chair. Her expression softened slightly, but remained resolute. “You need to learn to manage your frustrations more professionally.”

Lily noticed Petunia angrily hissing into Marlene’s ear but forced her gaze back to Mrs. Thompson. “Please, we really need the money.”

“You should have thought about that before antagonizing a paying guest,” Mrs. Thompson said firmly. “Goodbye, Evans.”

With tears threatening to spill, Lily slammed her company card down on the bench, and stormed out of the locker room. She walked out to the back, where her surfboard stood propped against the wall alongside Petunia's and Marley's boards. The pink color was bright and horribly offensive (according to Petunia), but Lily had saved up all her money to buy it three years ago. It was supposed to get her to nationals in Hawaii after she won at the Morro Bay competition.

Right now, it felt like her saving grace.

Ignoring the fact that it was a private beach, she grabbed her board and walked for the water. Her little maid uniform rode up at her hips as she walked fast, aiming for the sea. She kicked her shoes off as she went, not even bothering to even untie them. The football players were in the middle of a beach volleyball game, and she caught the eye of the handsome black-haired boy again.

He offered half a wave from where he stood at the back of the pack.

She quickly looked away and leaped into the water, then onto her board.

She thought she heard Petunia chasing her from up the beach, but she didn’t want a lecture. Especially not a Petunia lecture. Paddling out, she made it to the break and caught the first wave she could. As she stood up, a feral laugh escaped her, mingling with the crash of the waves. Salty water fell behind her in the barrel, mixing with her tears.

No job. No security. Just the relentless pull of the ocean, offering a brief escape from the reality waiting on shore.

She considered letting the silver-white foam of the waves take her under. It would be easier than facing the earful waiting for her once Petunia got ahold of her. Ever since their dad had left, and Petunia had gotten sole custody, she’d taken the role of ‘big sister turned mother’ a little too seriously sometimes. Right now, Lily couldn’t bear one of those lectures, where Petunia somehow morphed into a perfect blend of their mom and dad.

Lily stayed out on the water longer than the football players stayed on the beach. By the time she abandoned the waves, the beach was mostly clear, save for a few families who had appeared once the men had gone. Lily barely noticed that her maid uniform was ripped up the side, revealing the curve of her hip. She was half-ready to rip the damn thing off.

She made her way up to the double doors, preparing to get her stuff out of her locker, when she remembered that she’d left her entry card inside… and her regular clothes. With a hiss of frustration, she let her forehead fall against the door, her hand pushing at the handle out of sheer hope.

“Are you alright?” a voice asked, laced with humor behind her.

Lily, her face burning with humiliation, turned around and found herself face to face with the hot guy from the beach. Gone were the straightforward views of his hazel eyes; now they were hidden behind a pair of sleek sunglasses. His baseball cap, which had shadowed his features before, was missing, allowing his jet-black hair to fall freely. He stood there confidently in nothing but gym shorts, his lean body perfectly sun-tanned and glistening in the sunlight.

"You," she blurted out, her voice a mixture of surprise and embarrassment.

"Me," he replied, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. Even with the sunglasses, she could sense the amusement dancing in his eyes. There was something infuriatingly attractive about his self-assured stance and the way he seemed to enjoy her presence.

She nervously tucked a strand of her fiery red hair behind her ear. "No, uh, sorry… just leaving."

Lily rounded the corner quickly, but the football guy was faster, following her down the side path with an easy, casual stroll.

"Nice surfing. I saw you out there," he said with a nod in her direction.

Lily felt her cheeks heat up. "Thanks," she muttered, unsure of what else to say. She quickened her pace, hoping to put some distance between them, but he easily kept up with her, his long strides matching her hurried steps effortlessly.

"Do you need help getting in?" he asked, gesturing towards the double doors she had just been leaning against.

She hesitated, her pride battling with her desperation. "No," she said firmly, glancing around the parking lot for a familiar car. Everyone had already left for the day. She'd have to walk back to the house, and the thought filled her with a sense of dread

"I'm James," he said, extending a hand towards her. "James Potter."

"Lily Evans," she nodded, shaking his hand briefly. His grip was firm, his palm warm against hers. Despite her initial irritation, she couldn't help but feel a spark of curiosity. What was he doing here, and why was he so interested in her?

"Are you waiting on someone, Lily Evans?" he asked, noticing her scanning the parking lot with a hint of desperation.

She sighed, letting her gaze fall on him again. "No, not unless you know someone who can drive me home."

"I can," he offered quickly.

"Yeah," she laughed darkly, "right."

"I'm not kidding," he said, his tone earnest. "Consider it a formal apology for my teammate. He's pretty disgusting, but he's the best linebacker we've got."

"Listen, no offense," she began, "I'm sure you're a great guy, but today’s been terrible, and I just want to get home so my sister can yell at me."

"You want your sister to yell at you?" he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"It's bound to happen, so I might as well get it over with," she replied with a resigned shrug.

James raised his sunglasses away from his eyes so that they rested perfectly on his hair. “Why’s today terrible?”

“Your friend from room 215 got me fired today,” Lily said tersely. “He complained to my boss about the condom.”

A flicker of shock crossed James' face. “He did?”

“Yes,” she replied curtly. “So, forgive me if I’m not in the mood for flirting with guests.”

James ran a hand through his jet-black hair, looking genuinely pained. “Look, I’m really sorry about that. Please, let me help you. Do you need to talk to your boss?”

“No,” Lily said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m not looking for someone to swoop in and save me. I should have managed my temper better.”

James' expression softened, and his voice dropped to a more serious tone. “I saw that room. I ordered him not to come out until it was spotless again.”

Lily’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding earnestly. “I didn’t realize the extent of the problem until after you left. I’m really sorry for what happened, I feel responsible for these guys; I am team captain after all. Let me make it up to you.”

“How?” Lily asked, her skepticism evident.

“You need money, I’m guessing?” he inquired. “Until you can get a new job?”

“I’m not having sex with you for money,” Lily said flatly.

“First of all,” James leaned in slightly, looking slightly hurt, “I’m disappointed that you think I’d pay anyone for that. Second, I was going to suggest something else entirely—surfing lessons.”

Taken aback, Lily raised an eyebrow, her surprise evident. “Why would a football player need surfing lessons?”

James shrugged, a small, genuine grin tugging at his lips. “I dunno. You made it look like so much fun, and I thought it might be a great way to improve my skillset.”

“Surfing lessons?” she repeated, disbelief coloring her voice. “You’re serious?”

James nodded, his expression sincere. “Absolutely. I’ll pay you one hundred dollars for private lessons, once a day, until the end of the month when I head back to training camp.”

Lily stared at him, trying to wrap her mind around the offer. “One hundred dollars a day? That’s more than I’m worth.”

And more than enough to finish paying for her slot in the Morro Bay surfing competition. Lily tried and failed to not look relieved, but she was, this was the best thing anyone could have asked her.

James chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction. “I know it’s not what you expected, but it seems fair to me. My friend got you fired, and I can help you, so you don’t get an earful from your sister.”

Her eyes widened. “Well, this definitely wasn’t what I had in mind to escape her wrath. But if you’re serious, then sure, why not?”

“Great,” James said with a broad grin. “Let’s set up a time for our first lesson while I drive you home."

"Fine," she shifted her arm on her board as she started to follow him while joking, "but you have to promise not to fall in love with me."

He snorted and sent her a charged look before lowering his sunglasses back down. "Right. Whoever falls in love first, has to skinny dip in the ocean at midnight."

"I like my odds." She was rewarded with another one of his nice laughs.

Her odds weren't great.

[ricciardosheart]

Starry Serenade on the Riviera

pairings: Charles Leclerc X female (gf! reader)

The French Riviera basked in the golden glow of the afternoon sun, casting its warm embrace over the luxurious city of Monaco. Yachts gently swayed in the harbor, their sleek forms mirroring the indulgent lifestyle that defined this opulent corner of the world. In a stylish apartment overlooking the azure waters, (Y/N) awaited the return of her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, the acclaimed Formula 1 driver.

As the door swung open, revealing Charles with a mischievous smile, (Y/N)'s face lit up with surprise. She hadn't expected him so soon. Charles approached with a bouquet of her favorite flowers, the scent of lilies filling the air as he handed them to her.

"Surprise, mon amour," he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her cheek. "How about a spontaneous adventure this afternoon?"

Intrigued, (Y/N) couldn't help but smile. "An adventure? I'm in. What do you have in mind?"

Charles winked playfully. "It's a secret. Just trust me."

They ventured down to the harbor, where a sleek yacht named "La Belle Vie" awaited them. Charles had arranged a private cruise along the French Riviera—an intimate escape from the bustling world of Formula 1 and a celebration of their love.

As the yacht set sail, the gentle hum of the engine accompanied the laughter and chatter of the couple. They sat on the deck, sipping champagne and enjoying the panoramic views of the coastline. The Mediterranean breeze carried the promise of an unforgettable day.

"I thought we could have our favorite meal together," Charles revealed, unveiling a picnic basket filled with delicacies. The aroma of truffle-infused dishes mingled with the salted sea air, creating a sensory symphony.

(Y/N) couldn't hide her delight. "You think of everything, Charles."

He grinned. "Only the best for you."

Their lunch turned into a culinary journey, with each bite a testament to the pleasures of indulgence. They laughed, shared stories, and savored the flavors of their favorite dishes, creating memories against the backdrop of the azure sea.

As the yacht cruised along the coastline, Charles suggested watching a movie under the open sky. A cozy setup awaited them on the deck, complete with blankets and a projector. They nestled together, the gentle rocking of the yacht adding to the cinematic experience.

The movie played, but their attention often wandered to the stars above. Charles pointed out constellations, weaving tales of the cosmos. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the magic of the moment, wrapped in each other's company.

As the afternoon sun began its descent, casting a warm hue over the sea, Charles spread a blanket on the deck. They lay down, hand in hand, gazing at the sky as if trying to capture the essence of the French Riviera in their hearts.

"I wanted today to be about us, away from the pressures of the racing world," Charles confessed. "You're my anchor, (Y/N), and moments like these make everything worthwhile."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes reflecting the love she felt. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Charles. This is perfect."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in a riot of colors, Charles and (Y/N) remained on the deck, the French Riviera embracing them in its timeless allure. The yacht continued its journey, carrying the couple through the twilight of the Mediterranean.

In the quiet of the evening, with the city lights of Monaco twinkling in the distance, Charles whispered promises of more adventures and shared dreams. (Y/N) nestled closer, feeling the heartbeat of their love resonating with the gentle rhythm of the sea.

The yacht sailed on, leaving behind a trail of shimmering reflections on the water—a testament to a love that found solace in the beauty of the French Riviera. Charles and (Y/N), wrapped in the serenity of the moment, sailed into the night, knowing that some memories are destined to linger like the stars in the Mediterranean sky.

As the night deepened, Charles and (Y/N) found themselves in the heart of the Mediterranean, far from the city lights. The yacht glided through the calm waters, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves against its hull. Above them, a canvas of stars stretched endlessly, creating a celestial spectacle that mirrored the depth of their connection.

Wrapped in a blanket on the deck, Charles and (Y/N) traced constellations with their fingers, lost in the vastness of the night sky. The quietude of the moment allowed the whispers of their hearts to become the only conversation that mattered.

"I never imagined Monaco could be so peaceful," (Y/N) mused, her eyes fixed on the stars. "It's a different world out here."

Charles nodded, his gaze reflecting the shimmering reflections of the stars. "Monaco is known for its glamour and excitement, but there's a serene beauty to it when you escape to the sea. Just like our love—thriving in the quiet moments."

They lay in silence, the yacht gently rocking them in a cradle of tranquility. The hum of the engine became a lullaby, and, in that cocoon of peace, they felt like the only two souls in the universe.

As the night progressed, Charles guided (Y/N) to the yacht's prow, where the vast expanse of the Mediterranean stretched before them. The moon, a radiant pearl in the velvet sky, cast a silver trail across the water, inviting them into its nocturnal dance.

"Shall we dance?" Charles extended his hand, a playful glint in his eyes.

(Y/N) laughed, taking his hand. "Why not? A moonlit dance under the stars—it sounds like a dream."

The yacht became their ballroom, and the soft music playing in the background set the rhythm for their dance. In the embrace of the night, with the stars as their witnesses, Charles and (Y/N) swayed to a melody that only they could hear.

Time lost its relevance as they danced under the cosmic chandelier, wrapped in the enchantment of the moment. Charles held (Y/N) close, their hearts beating in synchrony with the gentle ebb and flow of the sea.

As the dance came to an end, Charles whispered, "You're my favorite melody, (Y/N)."

They returned to their blanket, savoring the intimacy of the night. Charles reached into a small cooler and produced a box of chocolates—each piece a miniature work of art. Together, they indulged in the sweet symphony of flavors, savoring the richness of both the chocolates and the moment they shared.

With the yacht gently sailing back towards Monaco, Charles and (Y/N) found themselves on the deck once more. The city lights came into view, transforming the horizon into a glittering panorama. The French Riviera, with its blend of glamour and serenity, became the backdrop to a love story that unfolded like a cherished novel.

As the yacht docked, Charles and (Y/N) stepped onto the harbor, hand in hand. The night had woven a tapestry of memories that would forever be etched in their hearts. The adventure, initiated by a surprise visit, had transformed into a journey of love, intimacy, and shared dreams.

They walked along the moonlit promenade, the echoes of their laughter harmonizing with the gentle lull of the Mediterranean. Monaco, with its grandeur and sophistication, embraced them as they strolled through its enchanting streets.

On a secluded terrace overlooking the city, Charles and (Y/N) found a quiet corner to sit. The night unfolded before them—a canvas painted with the hues of their emotions. They spoke of dreams, of the future, and of the enduring love that had guided them through the labyrinth of life.

The city below seemed to hush in reverence as Charles took (Y/N)'s hand and looked into her eyes. "This night was about us, about the simplicity of love and the magic that happens when two hearts are in sync. Thank you for being my partner in this beautiful dance."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes sparkling with affection. "Thank you for a night that feels like a fairytale, Charles. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

As dawn approached, casting a gentle glow over the horizon, Charles and (Y/N) lingered on the terrace, watching the first light of morning paint the sky. The French Riviera, with its timeless allure, had witnessed a love story unfold—a story that began with a surprise visit and evolved into a symphony of shared moments, laughter, and the quiet magic of the night.

Monaco, with its yachts and city lights, stood as a testament to the grandeur of their love—a love that found beauty in simplicity, thrived in moments of serenity and danced under the stars of the French Riviera. As the sun rose over the Mediterranean, Charles and (Y/N) embraced the dawn of a new day, knowing that their love story would continue to unfold in the enchanting world they had created together.