#and yes I’ve posted this before on here 😭

[grifffins]

🚬 Say Yes 🚬

Avis Amberg x fem!reader

tags: power play, submission, smut, p!rn with a little plot, overstimulation, vag!nal f!ngering, mommy k!nk

summary: Everyone at ace studios knows better than to cross Avis Amberg, but when she invited you to one of her parties, you should’ve known it wasn’t just for drinks. It was always going to end like this.

wc: ~ 23k

a/n: I’ve had this one sitting in my drafts for a while, but I was so critically scared to post it. 😭 Big shoutout to @ahsfan05 for reading it first and reassuring me that it wasn’t complete insanity, love you forever. 💕

also on ao3

taglist: @ahsfan05, @emilynissangtr

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The office is quiet, save for the steady scratching of your pen against the script in front of you, the distant hum of typewriters had long stopped clacking away in another room. The usual buzz of Ace Studios has long since faded, leaving only the occasional echo of footsteps down the hall and the soft rustle of paper.

You should have gone home hours ago. The overhead lamp casts long shadows across your desk, illuminating the chaotic sprawl of coffee stained pages, discarded cigarette butts, and rejected ideas. Your eyes are heavy, your mind clouded, but still, you push forward. Hollywood isn’t for the faint of heart, and you’ve clawed your way this far, another night alone in the office is just the price of making it.

And then, something shifts.

You notice it before you hear it, the air itself seems to change, thickening like smoke curling through the room. The faintest trace of perfume hits you first. It's decadent, expensive, and undeniably feminine, notes of something dark and sweet, like bourbon and crushed velvet. It’s not a scent that belongs in an office like this. It belongs draped over fur coats in a crowded ballroom, whispered between red lips at a dimly lit bar.

You glance up, your pen stilling in your hand.

She’s standing in the doorway. Avis Amberg.

It takes you a second longer than it should to react, because seeing her in person, really seeing her, is different from the fleeting glimpses around the lot or the black and white glamour of her photographs. She’s... stunning. Imposing. Dripping in the kind of effortless elegance that makes time itself slow down around her.

The tailored silhouette of her dress hugs her frame in all the right places, cascading down her body like a second skin. Auburn curls frame her face, pinned back to reveal the elegant curve of her neck, and those lips, deep crimson, precise, almost too perfect to be real. Her eyes, sharp, dark, and laced with a knowing amusement, lock onto yours, and suddenly, you’re hyper aware of everything.

She’s never looked your way before, never given you the time of day. No exchange of pleasantries, no nods in passing. And yet here she is, staring at you like she’s known you forever, like she’s been watching from the shadows. You can’t help but wonder what brought her here, of all places, looking at me sitting here under the unforgiving glare of an office lamp, drowning in rewrites and a half empty coffee cup. But then she steps inside, and every doubt you have about yourself evaporates under the weight of her attention.

"You’re the only one left," she says smoothly, voice low and velvety, the kind of tone that suggests she’s amused by something only she understands. She takes a slow step forward, her heels clicking against the polished floorboards. 

You sit up straighter, suddenly aware of the mess of scripts and the cold coffee at your elbow. "I lost track of time," you admit, a little sheepishly.

Avis hums, unhurried. "Time," she repeats, like she’s turning the word over in her mind, as if it’s a concept she finds faintly ridiculous. "Seems to be a common affliction in this place."

Your heart races. What is she talking about? You’ve never spoken to her before. You keep to yourself, stay out of the way. So why is she looking at you like she’s known you forever?

She doesn’t move toward you, not exactly, but there’s a shift in the air, a subtle rearranging of power. You feel it immediately.

She casts a glance over your desk, fingers just brushing the edge of the nearest script. "Hard worker, aren’t you?" It’s not really a question. More of an assessment.

You shrug. "I like to keep busy."

"Mm. That’s what they say about women like us, isn’t it? Hardworking. Dedicated." She exhales sharply through her nose, something like amusement flickering across her features. "And yet, somehow, it’s never enough to get anyone in the room where it actually matters."

You swallow, unsure how to respond. Unsure if you should.

Avis doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, she looks faintly entertained by your silence. She reaches into her cigarette case, tapping one against her palm before lighting it with the same ease she does everything else.

Your mouth goes dry. Her presence is suffocating, every word she speaks making you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

She exhales a plume of smoke, her gaze never leaving yours. 

The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until she finally breaks it with her next words, almost too casually. "I’m hosting a party tonight," she says, taking another slow drag from her cigarette. "Something... exclusive. And I think you should come."

You blink, unsure if you’ve heard her right. "Me?"

Her laugh is soft, almost affectionate, like she finds your confusion charming. "Yes, you." She leans in just enough to make your heart skip a beat. "You’ve been noticed," she adds, voice low, and the words hit you like a confession you weren’t prepared for. "Unless you'd rather stay here... with your scripts."

Wait, what?

You’ve never been on her radar, never been someone she would even give a second glance. But here she is, telling you she’s noticed you, you, out of all the people in this place. And now, she’s inviting you to a party?

You’re not sure whether to say yes or run in the other direction. But something tells you she wouldn’t be here, saying these things, if she didn’t already know exactly what she wanted. And maybe... just maybe... you're exactly what she's been looking for.

You should say no. You should.

But instead, you find yourself nodding. "What time?"

Avis smiles, slow and satisfied, like she’s just won a game you didn’t know you were playing. She exhales another cloud of smoke before flicking the cigarette into the ashtray on your desk, embers smouldering against paper.

"Midnight," she says, and the way she says it feels like a promise.  "Don’t be late."

And then she’s gone.

The door clicks shut behind her, and the room feels colder somehow, emptier, despite the lingering scent of her perfume hanging in the air like a whispered promise. You stare at the cigarette she left behind, the soft curl of smoke rising lazily into the dim light, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.

Midnight.

The word echoes in your head, looping over and over, settling deep into your bones. Midnight feels like a turning point, a knife edge you’re about to step over. Your grip tightens on your pen, but the ink barely stains the paper now. Your mind is elsewhere, stuck on the way she looked at you, on the invitation that shouldn’t have come your way at all.

Avis Amberg doesn’t waste her time on nobodies. That’s the rule. And yet...

You lean back in your chair, exhaling slowly, trying to steady yourself. Everyone at the studio talks about Avis with a mix of reverence and hushed scandal. Her parties are legendary, whispered about in the corridors and over coffee breaks, the kind of gatherings that people pretend they weren’t dying to be invited to. But the guest list is always the same, actors, producers, politicians, men with too much power and too little restraint.

And boys. Always the boys. The boys from the gas station.

They’re part of the whispered stories, part of the intrigue surrounding her. You’d heard the rumours, the late night tales of her indulgences, of the young, eager things who came and went, bought and paid for, eager to please the formidable Mrs. Amberg.

They bragged, of course. Loose lipped in dim lit bars, cigarette smoke curling from their mouths as they talked about her like she was some urban legend made flesh. How she liked them a certain way. How she preferred to keep things simple, clean, no strings, no questions. How they were nothing but a momentary amusement before she discarded them like an empty pack of cigarettes.

You weren’t an actor, or a politician, or some eager boy who had the privilege of being used and forgotten. So what did she want?

You weren’t naive enough to think you were special. But the question lingered, curling in the back of your mind.

Because if you weren’t a transaction, if you weren’t some pretty thing bought for a night’s pleasure…

Then what the hell did Avis Amberg want with you?

You glance at the clock, half past eleven.

You should go home, forget all about it. You should stay in your lane, keep your head down, and do what you came to Hollywood to do. But instead, you find yourself standing, smoothing down your clothes, and staring at your reflection in the dusty office window. The face that stares back at you looks unsure, hesitant, but beneath it, there’s something else, a flicker of curiosity.

Curiosity will be your undoing.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you grab your coat and head for the door, your heart hammering in your chest.

The address Avis had murmured, soft and teasing against your ear, leads you to an estate that looks like something ripped straight from a film reel. The driveway alone is longer than the entire block you live on, lined with towering palm trees that sway lazily in the evening breeze. The house itself is all sharp lines and grand columns, the glow from the windows spilling onto the manicured lawns like golden honey. Expensive cars are parked in neat rows, and you recognise a few faces slipping inside, faces from the silver screen, the kind of people you’d usually only see in black and white.

You pause at the entrance, nerves twisting in your gut. What the hell are you doing here?

And then, before you can rethink everything, she’s there.

Avis.

She’s standing just inside the entrance, champagne flute in hand, dark eyes sweeping over the gathered guests with that same quiet authority she carried in your office. Her dress tonight is different, satin, liquid gold against her skin, clinging in all the right places. The cut of the neckline is designed to ruin men, and perhaps even you.

For a moment, you consider slipping away before she notices. But Avis catches your eye like she’s been waiting for you all along, her lips curving into that same slow, knowing smile.

You swallow hard and step inside.

She meets you halfway, her gaze flickering over your attire, amusement dancing behind her eyes. “I must admit,” she murmurs, tilting her head, “I half expected you to come up with some excuse.”

“I thought about it,” you admit, trying to keep your voice steady. “But I figured you’d just hunt me down tomorrow if I didn’t show.”

Avis chuckles, the sound low and rich, like the champagne she swirls in her glass. “Smart.” She leans in just slightly, her perfume wrapping around you again, and your knees feel weaker than you’d like to admit. “You don’t belong here,” she says, her voice smooth, knowing.

Your pulse spikes, but you keep your expression neutral. “You invited me?”

Her lips curl at the edges, a slow, measured smirk. “I did.”

The weight of it lingers between you, pressing against your ribs. She doesn’t elaborate. Doesn’t explain. Just watches you with that unreadable glint in her eye, as if daring you to ask.

“Because I’m not rich?” you say finally, testing the waters.

Her gaze flickers, just for a moment. “Because you’re not like them.”

It’s not a compliment. It’s not an insult, either. It’s something else, something that sinks into your skin, unsettling in a way you can’t quite place.

She takes another sip of champagne, her eyes never leaving yours. “That’s why you’re here.”

And you have no idea if she means tonight, at this party, or something else entirely.

The implication lingers between you, heavy and undeniable.

Before you can say anything, someone calls her name from across the room, a producer, one of the old ones with a face like a bulldog and an ego to match. Avis’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of irritation in the way she sighs, like she’s already bored with the night.

“Enjoy yourself,” she murmurs, brushing a hand lightly down your arm as she steps away. “We’ll talk later.”

And just like that, she’s gone, melting into the crowd with the same effortless grace she always carries.

You exhale sharply, feeling the lingering heat of her touch burning through the fabric of your sleeve.

You should leave.

You should definitely leave.

Instead, you find yourself taking a drink from a passing tray, watching Avis from across the room as she smiles and charms her way through the sea of important people, and you wonder, just for a moment, if you’ve just stepped into something you can’t escape from.

The party swallows you whole.

You blend into the crowd, clinging to the edges of the room with your drink in hand, letting the sound of laughter and clinking glasses wash over you. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the heady scent of expensive perfume, mingling with the distant sound of a jazz record spinning somewhere beyond the grand staircase. The guests move like silk through the lavish space, slipping between conversations with practiced ease, actors, directors, studio executives, and socialites draped in jewels and whispered secrets.

This is a world you’ve only ever seen from a distance, through the crack of an office door or in fleeting glimpses on set. You shouldn’t be here. But Avis invited you, and here you are, trapped between the pull of curiosity and the gnawing fear that you’re completely out of your depth.

You steal a glance across the room and find her almost immediately. Avis stands at the centre of it all, holding court with an air of casual authority, cigarette poised elegantly between her fingers as she listens to some executive drone on about box office numbers. She doesn’t even look bored, she’s perfected the art of appearing interested, a slight tilt of her head, a slow blink, the barest ghost of a smile curling at the edge of her lips.

And yet, even surrounded by a sea of admirers, she still notices you.

Her dark eyes flicker in your direction, and for a heartbeat, it’s like the entire room fades away. The corner of her mouth lifts in a small, private smile,  one that feels like it’s meant for you and no one else.

Your breath catches in your throat. You take a sip of your drink, hoping the burn will steady you, but all it does is make your head feel lighter, more off balance. You’re not used to being looked at like that, like you’re something interesting, something worth pursuing.

Especially not by Avis Amberg.

The night moves in a blur of faces and conversations you can barely follow. You speak to a few people, some actors whose names you vaguely recognise, a screenwriter who complains about the studio system with too much wine in his hand,  but your thoughts keep drifting back to her.

Each time you catch a glimpse of Avis, you feel that same slow pull, like gravity bending toward her effortlessly. She moves through the party like she owns it, because she does. A touch here, a glance there, laughter slipping from her lips like it was meant to be bottled and sold.

And then, just when you think she’s forgotten about you entirely, you feel it.

A touch at your back.

Soft. Barely there.

But unmistakable.

You turn sharply, and there she is, Avis, closer than you expected, her presence overwhelming in the low light. Up close, she’s even more devastating. The curve of her lips, the way the gold chain at her throat catches the light, the cool amusement flickering in her dark eyes.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asks, and the way she says it, low, intimate, sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, because you can’t trust yourself to speak without giving too much away.

Avis hums in approval, her fingers grazing your wrist for a fraction of a second too long before she pulls away. "Good. I’d hate to think I invited you for nothing."

Your pulse is racing. "I—"

She cuts you off with a smirk. "Come with me."

And just like that, she’s walking away, expecting you to follow. And, of course, you do.

Avis leads you through the crowd with effortless ease, past laughing guests and glittering chandeliers, until you find yourself in a quieter corner of the house, a secluded alcove with plush seating and dim lighting, far removed from the noise of the party.

She settles onto one of the velvet sofas, crossing her legs with a languid grace that makes it impossible to look away. She gestures for you to sit, and you do, feeling the heat of her gaze on you the entire time.

Avis studies you for a long moment, idly swirling her drink. "You're not easy to read."

You blink, caught off guard. "I-what do you mean?"

She leans in slightly, her gaze sharp, searching. "Most people telegraph their intentions. You can see them coming a mile away." Her lips curl, amused. "But you... you're harder to pin down."

Her fingertip glides along the rim of her glass, slow and deliberate. "It's interesting."

Your heart is hammering now, loud enough that you’re sure she can hear it.

"I—I’m not sure what to say to that," you admit, swallowing hard.

Avis smirks. "Say yes."

You blink. "To what?"

She leans back, her gaze heavy, unreadable. "To whatever comes next."

And with that, the room tilts just slightly, because you realise, this isn’t just flirtation. This is something far more dangerous. And you? You’re standing right on the edge.

You should hesitate. You should think this through. But none of that happens.

Instead, the word tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Yes.”

Avis’s lips curve into something slow and indulgent, as though she expected nothing less. She doesn’t react with surprise, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that same quiet amusement, letting the weight of your answer settle between you.

A part of you wonders if you should have played it cooler, if you should have pretended to be unfazed by the invitation hanging in the air. But you’re not cool. You’re not unfazed. Because Avis Amberg is beautiful in the way that makes the air thick and your skin too warm under the weight of her gaze.

And because... well, she’s Avis Amberg.

Your brain still hasn’t caught up to the reality of it, the fact that she’s not just teasing, that the woman with a reputation for leaving a trail of starry eyed boys in her wake is standing before you, interested. And you? You’re very much not a boy.

Avis shifts slightly, leaning back into the plush sofa with a grace that should be illegal. She takes a slow sip from her drink, her dark eyes still locked on yours over the rim of her glass. “Good,” she murmurs after a beat, as though your answer had been inevitable.

Your pulse thrums in your throat, and you try not to fidget beneath the weight of her gaze. “You—” you start, then stop yourself, unsure if you even have the right to ask the question circling in your head.

Avis notices, of course she does. “Something on your mind, darling?” she asks, her voice dripping with lazy amusement, like she’s enjoying this far too much.

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around your glass. “I just... I didn’t realise you were...”

Her dark brows arch ever so slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. “Interested in women?”

You feel your face heat. “I mean—”

She laughs, low and rich, tilting her head as she studies you. “Is that really so surprising?”

Your throat tightens. “Well... yes.”

Avis hums thoughtfully, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before setting it down with a soft clink. She leans forward then, elbows resting on her knees, and the sudden closeness makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“You know what I think?” she muses, her voice dropping to something softer, something dangerously intimate.

You shake your head, swallowing against the lump forming in your throat.

"I think," she continues, idly tracing the rim of her glass with a single finger, "that people see what they want to see. A woman like me, in a place like this.." She pauses, her lips curving in something unreadable. "It's easier for them to believe certain stories."

You know exactly which ones she means, the whispers that slip through studio corridors, tales of pretty boys and late nights, carefully crafted illusions that keep everyone at ease.

"It keeps them comfortable," she murmurs.

The air between you is suffocatingly thick, and your fingers tremble slightly against the cool glass in your hand. You try to speak, to come up with something clever, something that doesn’t make you sound completely out of your depth, but Avis beats you to it.

“Do I make you nervous?” she asks, and you can tell she already knows the answer.

You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get caught somewhere along the way.

Avis laughs again, softer this time, like she’s found something about you particularly delightful. “That’s alright,” she murmurs, sitting back against the sofa once more, watching you like a cat watching a mouse. “I have that effect on people.”

You take a slow, steadying breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “And what exactly happens now?”

Avis watches you for a long moment, like she’s deciding just how much to give away. Then, with a slow, languid stretch, she rises to her feet. The satin of her dress shimmers under the dim light, and you have to fight the urge to stare.

“That depends on you,” she says simply, extending a hand towards you.

You stare at it for a beat too long before finally placing your hand in hers. Her fingers are warm, steady, and the simple contact sends a shiver down your spine. She pulls you up with effortless grace, guiding you through the winding hallways of her estate like she’s done it a hundred times before.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, your mind racing with possibilities.

Because you said yes. And now, there’s no turning back.

The room she leads you to is quieter, a stark contrast to the thumping noise of the party below. It’s dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight flickering against the dark walls. The atmosphere is intimate, velvet furnishings scattered around the space, heavy curtains drawn tight against the world outside. The faint scent of her perfume clings to the air, making everything feel a little too close, a little too personal.

Your eyes fall to the bed in the centre of the room, its heavy, ornate frame adding to the feeling that you’ve just entered a private world, one that’s far removed from the chaos of the party. The plush, dark bedding invites you in, its soft folds promising comfort, or something else entirely.

You can’t help but wonder if she’s planned this moment.

Avis closes the door behind you with a soft click, and suddenly the world outside feels very far away. She watches you for a moment, gauging your reaction, her eyes sharp and calculating.

“Are you alright?” she asks, a hint of genuine curiosity threading through her voice.

You nod, your throat too dry to form words.

Avis steps closer, her fingers tracing lightly down the length of your arm before settling at your wrist. “You don’t have to be nervous, darling.”

“I’m not nervous,” you say quickly, but it’s a lie, and she knows it.

Her lips curve in that infuriating way of hers. “Of course you’re not.”

You swallow, trying to ground yourself, but it’s difficult when she’s this close, when her scent is wrapping around you like a blanket, when her touch is light but deliberate, drawing small circles against your skin.

“I’m not like them,” you whisper, more to yourself than to her.

Avis tilts her head, her gaze flickering over your face. “I know.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

The muffled thrum of the party downstairs is a distant pulse beneath your feet, a steady reminder that the world outside this room still exists. Voices rise and fall beneath the music, laughter spilling through the cracks in the floorboards. It’s grounding in a way, tethering you to reality just enough to remind you that this, whatever this is, is happening under the noses of everyone down there.

You glance toward the closed door, then back at Avis. “Aren’t you worried we’ll get caught?”

She watches you, her lips curving in that slow, knowing way. “Should I be?”

You exhale, shifting slightly under the weight of her gaze. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Avis steps closer, deliberate but unhurried, her fingertips ghosting over your wrist. “They only see what they want to see, darling.” Her voice is a warm hum against your skin. “And no one looks too closely when they think they already know the story.”

Your stomach twists at the implication.

She tilts her head, eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Are you afraid someone will come looking for you?”

You shake your head, but the thought lingers. You should be more cautious. You should be thinking about the people downstairs, about the fact that this is reckless, that someone could knock on that door at any moment.

But you don’t move.

Avis watches your hesitation with quiet satisfaction, her hand trailing up to cup your cheek, her thumb grazing just beneath your jaw. “Tell me something,” she murmurs, her voice low, coaxing. “Have you thought about this?”

Your breath catches. “I… I don’t know.”

Her smile deepens, just enough to make your pulse stutter. “I think you have.”

And the worst part? She’s right.

You can’t deny it. Not when she’s looking at you like that.

You exhale shakily, leaning into her touch without thinking, and Avis watches you with quiet satisfaction, like she’s just confirmed something she already knew.

And then, finally, she kisses you.

It’s slow at first, teasing, like she’s savouring the moment, the taste of your hesitation. Her lips are soft but insistent, and when you don’t pull away, when you can’t pull away, her hand tightens slightly in your hair, drawing you closer.

You’re not sure how long it lasts, only that when she finally pulls back, you’re breathless and aching, and Avis looks entirely too pleased with herself.

“There,” she whispers against your lips. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You laugh, a little breathless. “No.”

Avis’s fingers trail down your arm, slow and deliberate. “Good,” she murmurs. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And somehow, you know you don’t want her to be.

Your heart is still racing, your lips tingling with the ghost of her touch. Avis watches you with a quiet intensity, her dark eyes drinking you in as if she’s committing every inch of your reaction to memory. It’s unnerving, the way she looks at you, like she’s already won, like she knew exactly how this would play out the moment she stepped into your office.

And maybe she did.

“You’re quiet,” she murmurs, fingers still ghosting down your arm, light and teasing, never quite settling.

You swallow hard, attempting to regain some semblance of control. “I’m just... processing.”

Avis smirks, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear in a gesture that feels far too intimate for how little you know each other. “Take your time, darling,” she says, voice dripping in amusement. “I do love watching you think.”

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze darting around the room in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. The space is luxurious, a rich blend of velvet and gold, the kind of room that reeks of indulgence. It’s intimate without being stifling, the lighting low, the air heavy with the scent of her perfume.

“You really do live like a queen, don’t you?” you say, your voice steadier than you expected.

Avis hums, stepping back slightly, giving you a moment to breath, or perhaps just enjoying the view. “Darling, I don’t just live like one. I am one.” She tilts her head, considering you. “And queens always get what they want.”

Your stomach flips. “And what exactly do you want?”

Avis doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she picks up the cigarette she’d left resting in a nearby ashtray, bringing it to her lips with practiced ease. She inhales slowly, her gaze never leaving yours, and when she exhales, the smoke curls lazily between you, thick and intoxicating.

“I think,” she finally says, tapping ash onto the crystal tray, “I want to know more about you.”

The statement takes you by surprise. You expected something else, something bolder, something teasing, but this? This feels... dangerous.

You shift under her gaze. “There’s not much to know.”

Avis chuckles, low and knowing. “Oh, I doubt that.” She steps closer again, her free hand tracing idle patterns along the neckline of your dress. “You intrigue me. I don’t take that lightly.”

Your throat tightens. “I... I’m not one of your boys.”

Avis’s eyes darken, and the hand at your collarbone stills. For a moment, you worry you’ve crossed a line, but then her lips quirk in amusement. “No,” she murmurs, her voice softer now, almost reverent. “You’re not.”

And there it is again, that unspoken acknowledgement hanging between you, thick and weighty. You’ve spent so long hearing whispers about Avis’s conquests, about the way she collected men like trophies, discarding them once their shine wore off. But here she is, standing before you, something more than idle curiosity flickering in her gaze.

It’s enough to make your head spin.

“Why me?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Avis tilts her head, a smile playing on her lips as she studies you. “Why not?”

You open your mouth to argue, but she presses a single finger to your lips, silencing you effortlessly. “Don’t overthink it,” she whispers, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Just enjoy it.”

And then she kisses you again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no teasing, no hesitation, just the press of her lips against yours, confident and demanding. Her hand tangles in your hair, pulling you in closer, and all you can do is let yourself be drawn into the heat of her, the taste of expensive champagne lingering on her tongue.

You melt into it, your hands finding purchase against the smooth silk of her dress, and Avis hums in approval, pressing you back against the velvet cushions with effortless ease.

You let her take the lead, let her pull you deeper into her world of whispered secrets and stolen moments. You don’t think about tomorrow, about the studio, about what people might say.

Right now, there’s only the feel of her lips against your skin, the soft sighs that escape between kisses, the way she holds you like she’s always known exactly how this would play out.

And perhaps she did.

Avis’s lips are soft but insistent, pressing against yours with a hunger that catches you off guard. There's no prelude now, no teasing dance, just the slow, deliberate weight of her body against yours, the heat of her hands mapping out the lines of your waist, the curve of your hips.

The room tilts around you, the distant hum of the party beyond the heavy door fading into nothing but the sound of your own breathing, shallow and quick. Avis’s perfume wraps around you like a second skin, cloying and decadent, making it hard to think, hard to do anything but feel.

She pushes you back gently, the velvet of the bed soft beneath you, and her gaze, dark and smouldering, holds you in place far more effectively than any touch could. Her fingers trace a slow path down the side of your neck, featherlight, before she leans in again, her lips trailing lower, pressing against the pulse hammering beneath your skin.

A soft sound escapes you before you can stop it, and you feel her smile against your throat, wicked and knowing. "Mm," she hums, the sound vibrating through you. "I do love when they make noise."

Your fingers clutch at her waist, the silk of her dress slipping beneath your hands like water, and she takes it as an invitation, pressing closer, her body a perfect fit against yours, warm and demanding. She’s all confidence, all control, and it makes your head spin in the best possible way.

Her mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, and you don’t hesitate to match her. Your hands roam, fingers tracing the exposed skin of her back, sliding beneath the fabric where it dips low, feeling the tension in her muscles as she moves against you. Avis sighs into your mouth, a soft, indulgent sound, and the way she reacts to your touch sends a thrill down your spine.

She’s intoxicating, more than the champagne, more than the cigarette smoke that lingers in the air. The way she moves, the way she takes what she wants with such ease, it’s almost unfair.

Her nails drag lightly down your arm, and then her hands are at your waist, pulling you up, closer, until your legs are tangled together and there’s nowhere else to go. The heat of her mouth, the deliberate press of her thigh between yours, it’s overwhelming.

Your breath comes faster, and she notices, of course she does. "Easy, darling," she murmurs against your lips, her voice a lazy drawl, full of amusement. "We've got all night."

You whimper at the promise in her words, your body arching instinctively into her touch. Avis chuckles, trailing kisses down your collarbone, her fingers slipping beneath the edge of your dress, dragging the fabric down with deliberate slowness.

You shiver beneath her, your body taut with anticipation, heat pooling low in your stomach. Avis pulls back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes heavy lidded, her lips glistening.

"Tell me you want this," she says, and for once, there’s no teasing in her tone.

Your breath catches, the words sticking in your throat. There’s something about the way she’s looking at you, like she’s giving you the space to decide, to step back if you want to.

But you don’t.

You nod, breathless. “Yes.”

Avis tilts her head slightly, her fingers skimming your jaw, her nails scraping just lightly enough to make you shudder. Her lips curve, not quite a smirk, not quite a smile.

“Yes what?” Your brows furrow for half a second, confusion flickering across your face before she leans in again, her breath warm against your skin. “Yes, mama,” she clarifies.

The words send a shock through you, a heat that curls deep in your spine, leaving you dizzy.

Your lips part, your breath shaky. You swallow hard, your fingers gripping onto the sheets, grounding yourself.

“Yes, mama,” you whisper. Your voice comes out softer than you intend, breathless, but it does exactly what you knew it would. Avis stills for just a moment, lips hovering at the base of your throat, and then you feel it, her slow, pleased exhale, warm against your skin. A shiver rolls down your spine at the way she hums, low and satisfied, like she’s just found something worth savouring.

Avis hums in satisfaction, her fingers trailing lower, her touch both soothing and possessive. “That’s my girl.” She murmurs, and the praise sends heat pooling low in your belly.

Her smile is all satisfaction, and then she's on you again, lips and hands and silk soft touches that unravel you piece by piece.

You let her take everything. And she does.

Avis’s hands are everywhere at once, trailing slow, deliberate patterns along your sides, your waist, the delicate line of your collarbone. Each touch feels intentional, practiced, like she’s taking her time learning every inch of you. Her fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress, pushing it higher inch by inch, her nails grazing your skin just enough to leave you gasping.

You clutch at her, trying to ground yourself, but she’s relentless, her mouth finding yours again, deeper this time, hungrier. She tastes like champagne and something sweeter, something distinctly her, and you melt into it without thinking, letting her take whatever she wants.

Her thigh presses between yours, firm and unyielding, and you gasp into her mouth at the sudden pressure. Avis pulls back just enough to watch you, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. "Sensitive, aren’t we?"

You can’t find your voice, only manage a sharp intake of breath as her fingers drag slowly up your bare thigh, teasing and unhurried.

She chuckles, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I like that."

The words send a fresh wave of heat through you, and you can feel the smug curve of her smile as she continues her slow, torturous exploration. Her hands push the straps of your dress down your shoulders, the silk pooling at your waist, exposing more of you to the cool air and the warm press of her lips against your skin.

She kisses a path down your neck, lingering just above your racing pulse before moving lower, her mouth tracing the swell of your chest with maddening patience. Every brush of her lips, every teasing flick of her tongue leaves you trembling beneath her touch.

"Avis..." you whisper, unsure if it’s a plea or a warning.

She pulls back slightly, looking down at you with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Patience, darling," she murmurs, dragging her thumb over your lower lip, watching as you part your lips instinctively for her. "We’re just getting started."

Your head falls back against the plush velvet, your body arching into her touch despite your better judgment. Avis takes her time, mapping out every inch of you with meticulous care, her touch alternating between feather light caresses and firm, possessive strokes that leave you aching for more.

Her thigh presses harder between yours, and your hips move without thinking, chasing the friction she offers. Avis hums in approval, her hand slipping beneath the last barrier of fabric, teasing at the edge of where you need her most.

"So eager," she murmurs, her lips ghosting over your flushed skin. "I love it."

You whimper, your fingers digging into her arms, trying to pull her closer, needing more. Avis obliges, pressing her body fully against yours, her mouth claiming yours again with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt.

You’re lost in her, completely, utterly lost. The world outside this room, the party, the whispers... none of it matters anymore.

There’s only the heat of her body, the press of her lips, and the slow, torturous way she’s taking you apart piece by piece.

And God, you don’t want it to stop.You gently pull away and stand up, helping her to her feet. You’re still warm from her touch, your body slightly unsteady as you both rise, but you can’t ignore the desire to move things forward.  You kiss her neck, soft and slow, careful not to leave a trace, no marks. Just you, your lips pressed against the warm skin beneath her jaw, savouring the way she sighs, the way her fingers tighten in your hair.

Avis tilts her head ever so slightly, granting you silent permission, but there’s control in it, a reminder that she’s letting you have this, for now. You kiss lower, your mouth trailing to the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulder, feeling the way she shivers under your touch.

"You’re being good," she murmurs, her voice a lazy drawl laced with something darker, more indulgent. 

Her praise sends a shiver down your spine, desire pooling low in your belly, but it’s not enough. Those boys at the gas station, she paid for their time, their attention. But you? You want her. Not for what she can offer, not for the allure of power or wealth, but for her, the way she looks at you like she’s measuring your worth, the way she commands a room without saying a word, the way her lips taste of champagne and control.

Your hands find the silk belt of her dress, and you hesitate, your fingers trembling slightly against the fabric. Avis notices, of course she does, and she chuckles, low and knowing, tilting your chin up with a single, perfectly manicured finger.

Her eyes darken, approval flickering across her features, and she steps back just enough to give you space to move. Your hands move slowly, reverently, slipping the silk from her shoulders, watching with wide eyes as the fabric pools at her feet, revealing the intricate corset beneath, black lace and boning hugging her curves, accentuating everything in a way that has your knees feeling weak.

You can’t help the way your breath catches, your gaze drinking her in like she’s something untouchable, something holy.

Avis smirks, reading every thought flashing across your face, and steps closer, tipping your chin up once more. "On your knees, darling," she purrs, and your body obeys before your mind can catch up.

You sink down onto the plush rug beneath you, your hands trembling as they trail along the curve of her thighs, over the delicate lace garters holding up her stockings. You kiss along the tops of them, your lips brushing the soft skin just above the lace, and you feel Avis’s breath hitch, just for a second.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her fingers threading through your hair, tugging lightly, just enough to make you look up at her. The hunger in her gaze nearly undoes you. "But I think you can do better than that."

Your lips part, your breath warm against her skin, and you kiss higher, your mouth mapping a path up the curve of her inner thigh, your hands smoothing over the soft lace and silk as you go.

Avis hums in approval, her grip in your hair tightening slightly. "That’s it," she murmurs, her voice heavy with satisfaction. "I do enjoy watching you like this."

You burn under her praise, your desire only growing as she tilts her head back slightly, exhaling a slow, indulgent sigh. Every soft gasp, every pleased hum she lets out fuels you, makes you want to prove that you’re different, that you’re not just another passing amusement to be forgotten by morning.

Your hands glide up, fingertips teasing against the edges of her corset, and you press a kiss just above the swell of her hip, the faintest taste of her moisturiser lingering on your tongue. It’s intoxicating, overwhelming, and you can’t get enough.

Avis chuckles softly, her lips curling in amusement. "You’re raring to go, aren’t you?," she observes, and you feel the delicious weight of her power pressing down on you, making you ache for more.

You kiss higher, tracing the delicate line of lace with your lips, your hands trailing slowly along her hips, mapping her out like you have all the time in the world. And for tonight, you do.

Avis pulls you back suddenly, her hands firm against your shoulders, in one fluid movement she bends down her lips crash against yours, and this time, it’s all consuming, teeth, tongue, and a desperation that leaves you dizzy.

"Let’s see if you can keep up, darling," she whispers against your lips, and you know with absolute certainty, you're about to give her the time of her life.

Avis watches you from beneath heavy lidded eyes, a satisfied smirk playing at the edges of her lips as she feels the way your breath trembles against her skin. Her fingers slide through your hair, a gentle yet possessive touch, and the weight of it sends a thrill down your spine.

You lower your head again, pressing your lips to the inside of her thigh, letting your tongue flicker over the delicate lace garter before trailing higher, slowly, reverently. The anticipation coils between you, thick and heady, and Avis hums in approval, her grip tightening just enough to ground you, to remind you exactly who’s in control here.

Your hands skim up the curve of her hips, tracing the silk of her corset as your lips follow suit, lingering along the delicate curve just above the boning, tasting the faint salt of her skin mixed with the lingering traces of expensive perfume. She sighs above you, a soft, indulgent sound that makes your stomach tighten with need.

“Such a lovely little thing,” Avis murmurs, her voice thick with amusement and something darker, richer. Her nails scrape lightly against your scalp, urging you on. “Let’s see what that mouth of yours can really do.”

Your lips part around a shaky breath, your hands finding the clasp of her garter belt, undoing it with practiced ease. Avis chuckles softly, clearly pleased, and steps back just enough to give you room, watching with that ever present, wicked glint in her eye as you guide the sheer fabric down her thighs, pressing kisses to every new inch of exposed skin.

You trail your fingers up the inside of her thighs, featherlight touches meant to tease, and Avis lets out the softest sigh, her hips shifting ever so slightly in response. You press your mouth to her again, lower this time, your tongue flicking out, tasting her heat through the last barrier of silk and lace.

Avis lets out a soft, breathy moan, her fingers tugging your hair just enough to make you gasp against her. “Patience,” she purrs, though the slight hitch in her breath betrays her own. “I do like them eager, but I like them obedient even more.”

You drag your tongue over her slowly, teasing, and she groans, low and throaty, her hips shifting in response. Encouraged, you press a little harder, your fingers slipping beneath the lace to finally touch her properly, feeling how warm and wet she is, how ready.

Avis’s grip tightens, her breath catching in her throat, and when you flick your tongue against her in just the right way, she curses softly under her breath. “Oh, darling.”

Slowly, deliberately, you slip the fabric down her legs, tossing it aside, your breath catching as your hands now have complete access to her. And you dive back in.

Your fingers work in tandem with your mouth, teasing and stroking with deliberate precision, finding the rhythm that makes her tremble under your touch. Avis’s composure slips, just a little, and the sound she makes, low and desperate, is enough to send a rush of heat straight to your core.

You revel in it, in the way her breath stutters, in the way her thighs tense around you. Every moan, every whispered curse fuels you, makes you bolder, hungrier. You take your time, savouring the way she responds to you, the way her hips roll against your mouth, her fingers threading tighter through your hair.

Avis’s voice is a breathless murmur above you, her dominance never wavering even as she begins to lose herself in the pleasure you’re giving her. “Just like that... yes, that’s it,” she breathes, her head tipping back as her body shudders beneath you.

Your fingers work deeper, curling just right, and you feel it, the sharp tension in her muscles, the way her breathing grows ragged, her moans louder, more insistent. You keep your pace steady, relentless, pushing her higher and higher until she gasps your name, her body arching into you as she comes undone.

Avis rides it out with a grace that’s entirely hers, her fingers tightening in your hair before finally releasing, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. You pull back slowly, pressing a final kiss to the inside of her thigh, your lips damp, your hands still lingering against her skin.

For a long moment, Avis says nothing, only watches you with dark, hooded eyes, her lips parted, her body still humming from the aftershocks. Then, with a languid stretch, she reaches down and cups your chin, tilting your face up to meet hers.

Her smirk is slow, indulgent, and utterly satisfied. "Well," she murmurs, voice husky and warm. "I think you just might be my favourite after all."

Your heart pounds at the praise, at the way she’s looking at you like she’s already decided to keep you. You let out a breathless laugh, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand.

“I aim to please,” you whisper, and Avis grins, pulling you to your feet with surprising ease. She presses her lips to yours again, slower this time, tasting herself on your tongue, and it’s intoxicating in a way that makes your knees weak all over again.

“Careful, darling,” she murmurs against your lips. “I just might not let you leave.”

And you? You’re not sure you’d want to.

“You look divine,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the curve of your hip, slipping beneath the last remnants of fabric still clinging to your body. “But I think you’d look better without these.”

You swallow hard as she steps closer, her lips ghosting over your jaw, her hands working with deliberate precision to strip away the barriers between you. The sensation of silk sliding down your skin sends a fresh wave of anticipation coursing through you, and you can’t stop the soft sigh that escapes your lips.

Avis smirks against your ear, her breath warm and teasing. “I do love when they fall apart so easily,” she whispers, and the words make your knees threaten to give out all over again.

She steps back, just enough to take in the sight of you, bare, trembling, utterly at her mercy. Her eyes darken, and you feel the weight of her desire pressing down on you like a tangible force.

"On the bed," she says, and there’s no question in it, no room for hesitation.

Your legs move on their own, carrying you to the lavish bed. You sink onto it, your breathing shallow, your body aching with anticipation. Avis follows at her own pace, leisurely and in control, watching you with a predator’s gaze.

And there she stands, corset clad and exquisite, looking at you like she’s about to devour you whole.

She crawls onto the bed with a grace that has your breath catching, her knees settling on either side of your hips as she pins you beneath her, the weight of her a delicious pressure you never knew you needed until now. Her fingers dance lightly over your skin, teasing, tracing, making you arch into her touch.

"You’ve been so good," she purrs, dragging her nails lightly down your stomach, making you shudder. "But now it’s my turn."

Her mouth follows the path of her hands, warm and wet against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses and bites that never quite mark, but still make your breath catch with every scrape of her teeth. She revels in the way your body responds to her, the way you tremble beneath every calculated touch.

"Tell me what you want," she murmurs against your collarbone, her tongue flickering out to taste the salt of your skin. "I want to hear you say it."

Your fingers clutch at the sheets, your voice barely a whisper. "I want you."

Avis chuckles, low and dangerous, her lips ghosting lower, leaving you breathless. "You already have me," she murmurs, pressing a kiss just above your navel before moving lower still. "But I do love hearing you beg."

Your body arches instinctively as she drags her tongue along your skin, teasing, tasting, taking her time. Every touch, every flicker of her fingers and lips is deliberate, calculated to drive you to the very edge without ever letting you fall.

She makes you wait. Makes you feel every second of it.

And when she finally gives you what you’ve been aching for, you cry out, your hands tangling in her hair as she works you open with devastating precision. Avis hums against you, a satisfied sound that vibrates through your core, and it’s almost too much, too perfect.

"You taste divine," she murmurs between slow, torturous strokes, her voice thick with satisfaction.

You gasp, your body arching into her, desperate for more, for everything. Avis’s hands grip your thighs, holding you down with an authority that leaves no room for argument, no room for escape. She builds you up slowly, surprisingly expertly, her mouth and fingers working in perfect tandem, leaving you a trembling mess beneath her.

You moan her name, breathless and raw, and it only seems to spur her on, her tongue flicking against you in just the right way, her fingers curling inside you with unerring precision. You can feel the pressure building, the heat pooling low in your belly, and you know you’re close, so close you can taste it.

"Come for me, darling," she purrs against your skin, and it’s not a request.

Your body obeys, pleasure crashing over you in waves, your cries muffled against the silk pillows as you fall apart beneath her. Avis doesn’t stop, not right away, drawing out every last tremor, every last shudder, until you’re gasping for air, your entire body trembling in the aftermath.

She pulls back slowly, watching you with satisfaction as she presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, her fingers still trailing idly across your skin.

"You’re exquisite," she murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hip, then your stomach, and finally your lips. "I should have done this sooner."

You laugh breathlessly, your fingers tracing the delicate line of her corset, your body still humming with the aftershocks of her touch.

"I’d say you’ve made up for lost time," you murmur, and Avis grins, her dark eyes gleaming with something wicked.

"Oh, darling," she purrs, dragging her nails lightly down your spine. "We’re just getting started."

The air between you is thick and heavy, saturated with the scent of her perfume and the lingering traces of what just happened. Your body still hums with the aftermath, a lazy warmth spreading through your limbs as you lay back against the silk sheets, trying to catch your breath.

Avis, ever composed, leans back against the headboard, her fingers idly tracing circles along your bare shoulder. There's something smug in the way she looks at you, satisfied, yes, but also contemplative, as if she's already planning the next time she'll have you beneath her.

“I’d like to see you again,” she says, her voice softer now, but no less commanding.

You glance up at her, surprised by the directness, though you know you shouldn’t be. This is Avis Amberg, she doesn’t waste time with uncertainty.

A slow smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “I think I’d like that too.”

Avis hums, clearly pleased. She reaches for the cigarette case on the nightstand, flicking it open with one graceful motion. “Good,” she says, lighting it effortlessly and exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “I don't do... complications.”

You sit up slightly, running a hand through your hair as you watch her through half lidded eyes. “Just sex, then?”

She smirks, tapping ash into the crystal tray beside her. “Precisely. No strings, no expectations.” Her eyes flick to yours, sharp and assessing. “Do you think you can handle that?”

You bite your lip, considering. The truth is, you’ve never been very good at keeping emotions out of things, but for Avis... you'd be willing to try.

“As long as you can,” you counter, raising a brow.

Avis laughs, low and rich, smoke curling between you. “Darling, I invented it.”

There’s something almost thrilling about how simple it is. No promises, no messy emotions, just this. The pull of desire, the satisfaction of knowing you can have her, even if it’s only in these stolen moments.

You nod, reaching for your dress on the floor. “Alright. Just sex.”

She watches you as you slip the silk back over your shoulders, her gaze lingering with that same lazy interest that makes your skin prickle. “Smart girl,” she murmurs, taking another slow drag of her cigarette. “We’ll make it work.”

You smile, slipping your heels back on, feeling the weight of her gaze as you smooth your dress down. Avis, always effortless, stands with a languid grace, putting her dress back on with a practised flick of her wrists.

For a moment, you consider kissing her again, just to see if she’d let you. But instead, you settle for watching her from across the room as she checks herself in the ornate mirror, smoothing a hand down her hair before turning back to you.

“Come,” she says, gesturing toward the door with an air of authority that makes you want to obey without question. “Let’s not keep the party waiting.”

You nod, following her out of the room and down the dimly lit hallway, the distant hum of conversation growing louder with each step. The moment you step back into the party, it’s like slipping on a mask, Avis is back to being the cool, untouchable queen of Ace Studios, and you? You’re just another guest.

No one suspects a thing.

She disappears into the crowd with effortless ease, her smirk lingering in your mind long after she’s gone.

You grab a drink from a passing tray, your heart still racing as you weave through the guests, stealing one last glance at her across the room.

Avis meets your gaze briefly, her lips curling in a small, knowing smile before she turns away, already engaged in another conversation.

And just like that, you know you’ll be seeing her again.

You leave the party a little dazed, a little breathless, and very much aware that you’ve just stepped into something dangerous.

And you can’t wait for more.

The weekend passes in a blur, each hour melting into the next, your thoughts tangled up in traces of Avis that refuse to leave you. You swear you can still smell her perfume on your skin, even after long showers and restless nights. It lingers in the folds of your clothes, in your sheets, in the quiet moments when you’re alone and your mind drifts back to the way she felt beneath your hands, the way she tasted, the way she owned you.

And the worst part? You don’t want it to fade.

You spend Saturday lost in the haze of it, replaying every moment, every touch, every whispered command. You find yourself reaching for the telephone more times than you care to admit, your thumb hovering over the number she slipped into your pocket before you left her party.

Call when you want more.

The words echo in your head, taunting, teasing. You consider it. You want to. But something about Avis, her confidence, her control, makes you hesitate. She’d know, just from the way you said hello, how badly you wanted her again. And you weren’t sure you were ready to give her that much power over you.

So instead, you distract yourself with work, throwing yourself into your scripts, hoping to drown out the lingering traces of her. But it doesn’t work. It never does.

By Sunday night, you’re no closer to clearing your head than you were when you first walked out of that house. Something dangerously close to longing, won’t let you sleep.

Monday morning comes too soon.

You drag yourself into the studio lot, the bright California sun doing little to chase away the cloud hanging over your thoughts. Everything feels too loud, too sharp, the chatter of passing secretaries, the clatter of typewriters, the distant hum of conversations about budgets and deadlines. It all blends together into a dull buzz beneath the only thought looping in your mind: when will I see her again?

You barely make it to your desk before the news hits.

“Did you hear?” someone whispers nearby, their voice a conspiratorial hush that instantly grabs your attention.

“Hear what?” another voice asks, papers shuffling hastily.

You glance up, already feeling the knot forming in your stomach.

"Mr. Amberg," the first voice says, hushed and grave. "Heart attack. Late last night."

The words hit you like a slap, knocking the air from your lungs. Your pen slips from your fingers, rolling across the desk as the world around you tilts slightly.

No.

No, no, no.

“Is he…?” The second voice falters, hesitant.

“He’s alive,” the first says quickly, leaning in. “But it’s bad. The doctors aren’t optimistic. They say it could be any day now.”

You sit frozen, your heartbeat thudding in your ears as the conversation fades into a murmur. The weight of it settles on your chest, heavy and suffocating.

Avis.

Your mind races, images flashing through your thoughts, the way she looked at you that night, the way she touched you with such confidence, such certainty. Avis Amberg doesn’t lose. She doesn’t falter, doesn’t break. But this… this could change everything.

You grip the edge of your desk, your knuckles whitening as you stare blankly at the pile of scripts in front of you, the words blurring together into meaningless ink.

Your stomach twists at the thought of her sitting in that grand house, surrounded by marble and silk and emptiness, her husband’s fate hanging in the balance. What would she do? How would she react? Would she cry? Would she rage? Or would she sit there, still and composed, like she always does, sipping her champagne while the world around her crumbles?

You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. You shouldn’t care. You told yourself this was just sex, that it was supposed to be simple. No strings, no expectations.

But it doesn’t feel simple now.

Your fingers itch toward your pocket, toward the number still folded neatly inside. You told yourself you wouldn’t call. Not yet. Not so soon.

But now?

Now, you’re not so sure.

The news spreads like wildfire. By noon, everyone in the studio lot is whispering about it, behind closed doors, in the corners of the commissary, in hurried phone calls to reporters who are already sniffing around for a story. Ace Studios in limbo. A king without his throne.

And sitting at the top of it all now, with her perfectly manicured hands wrapped tightly around the reins?

Avis Amberg.

It shouldn’t be surprising, not really. Even with her husband alive and well, it was an open secret that Avis had been the true power behind the scenes for years. She knew which deals to cut, which strings to pull, which rumours to spread to keep Ace Studios on top. But now, with him lying in a hospital bed, weak and vulnerable, she wasn't just whispering in his ear anymore, she was the studio.

"Mrs. Amberg will be assuming full control for the time being," one of the producers announces in a meeting that afternoon, his voice carefully neutral, his expression tight. "We expect business as usual."

There’s a collective murmur of disbelief around the table. No one dares to voice their doubts outright, but you can see it in their eyes, concern, uncertainty, maybe even a little fear. Avis was ruthless on the social scene, yes, but business?

Everyone’s waiting to see if she’ll sink or swim.

You sit in the corner, watching as the conversation unfolds, barely able to focus on the shifting power dynamics around you. Your thoughts are stuck in a loop, playing over the last time you saw her, her lips on your skin, her voice in your ear, the way she commanded you with nothing more than a look.

And now? Now she’s commanding an entire empire.

The meeting drones on, voices blending into a low hum of speculation and nervous chatter. Someone suggests pausing production on a few major pictures until things settle, but the idea is quickly shot down.

“Mrs. Amberg made it clear, everything moves forward.”

Of course she did.

Avis never let anything stall. Not a film, not an affair, and certainly not the impending death of her husband.

Your chest tightens at the thought, an unfamiliar pang of something dangerously close to concern curling in your gut.

You shouldn’t care.

It was just sex.

And yet, before you can stop yourself, your hand slips into your pocket, fingers brushing against the folded slip of paper that holds her number.

You haven’t called her yet. You told yourself you wouldn’t. You’d wait for her to make the first move, let her be the one to decide if this was worth continuing.

But now, the circumstances have changed.

Later that evening, the studio lot is quieter than usual. The frantic energy of the day has settled into a low murmur, the kind of hush that always follows bad news. You find yourself wandering the empty corridors, drawn toward the executive offices where you know she’ll be.

The door to Mr. Amberg’s office—no, her office now, is closed, but the light is on, spilling a soft glow into the hallway.

You hesitate, fingers hovering just above the polished wood.

And then, before you can decide against it, you knock.

A beat of silence. Then—

"Come in."

Her voice is steady, composed, but there's a sharpness to it, an edge of something you can’t quite place. You step inside, closing the door behind you, and there she is, seated behind the massive oak desk that once belonged to her husband, looking every inch the queen of Hollywood.

She’s shed the usual silk and lace tonight. Instead, she wears a perfectly tailored suit, dark and sleek, the crisp lines of it hugging her body in a way that feels almost too powerful. Her hair is pinned back, not a strand out of place, and her red lips stand out starkly against the dim lighting of the office.

She doesn’t look surprised to see you.

"You’re working late," you say, your voice softer than you intended.

Avis leans back in the chair, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before lifting it to her lips. She takes a slow sip, her eyes never leaving yours. "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

You hesitate, unsure of what to say. 

"I heard about... everything."

Her lips curl in a wry smile. "Of course you did. Everyone has." She gestures to the drink in her hand. "Are you here to offer your condolences?"

You step closer, leaning against the edge of the desk, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at her proximity. "I just wanted to check on you."

Avis arches a perfectly shaped brow, as if the very idea of someone checking on her is amusing. "That’s sweet," she murmurs, tilting her head slightly. "But unnecessary."

You search her expression, looking for some sign of what’s going on behind that composed facade, but she’s as unreadable as ever. "How are you handling it?"

She exhales softly, setting her glass down with a quiet clink. "Handling it?" she repeats, her fingers toying idly with the rim. "I don’t have the luxury of falling apart, darling. The studio doesn’t run on sentiment."

You nod, feeling foolish for asking. Of course she’s handling it. Avis Amberg doesn’t fall apart.

She studies you for a long moment, then reaches out, tracing a slow line down your wrist with the tip of her finger. "Tell me," she muses, voice soft but laced with something darker, something knowing, "is that why you came? To see if I’d crack?"

You shake your head, swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat. "No," you say honestly. "I just... I wanted to see you again."

Avis’s smile sharpens, and for the first time tonight, you see a flicker of something familiar in her eyes, something that reminds you of that night, of the way she looked at you when she had you beneath her.

"Mm," she hums, tapping a manicured nail against the desk. "And here I thought we had an agreement."

"We do," you say quickly, shifting under her gaze. "Just sex. No complications."

Her lips curve. "Good. Then let’s not make this anything more than what it is." She stands slowly, stepping around the desk, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. She stops in front of you, close enough that you can smell the faint traces of her perfume, still intoxicating, still completely her.

"You want me?" she asks, voice low and inviting.

You nod, unable to form words.

"Then take me," she whispers, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering just enough to leave you aching. "But understand this, darling, I'm not the type to fall apart. And I don’t need saving."

You exhale shakily, nodding. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

Avis smiles, stepping back and smoothing down the lapels of her suit. "Good." She gestures to the door. "Now, go home and get some rest. You’ll need it."

You hesitate for a moment, wanting to say something more, but instead, you nod and head for the door.

As you step back into the hallway, the weight of her presence still clinging to your skin, you realize something with absolute certainty.

This thing between you and Avis?

It’s only just beginning.

The days that follow are a whirlwind, endless scripts, whispered speculation in the hallways, and the looming presence of her. Avis Amberg may have always been the force behind the throne, but now? Now she is the throne, and everyone knows it.

She’s in meetings from dawn until dusk, reshuffling entire productions with the flick of her wrist, cutting budgets, signing off on new talent, and making it very clear that Ace Studios will not be slowing down, not for her husband’s illness, and certainly not for anyone who doubts her.

You try to focus on your work, to keep your head down, but it’s impossible. Every conversation, every hushed voice in the studio commissary inevitably circles back to her. And worse than that? You can still feel her.

Even now, late in the evening, as you sit at your desk trying to get through a script rewrite, the ghost of her perfume lingers in your mind. It’s driving you insane, the memory of her touch, the weight of her against you, the taste of her lips.

You're halfway through a cigarette, staring blankly at the typewriter in front of you, when the phone on your desk rings. You jump slightly, the sudden noise breaking through your thoughts.

You hesitate for just a moment before picking up, pressing the heavy receiver to your ear.

"You’ve been busy," her voice purrs through the line, rich and unmistakable. The sound of it sends a shiver down your spine.

You swallow hard, sitting up straighter. "I—uh, I’ve been working."

"Mmm," Avis hums, unimpressed. "Too busy to pay me a visit?"

You bite your lip, your fingers curling around the cord of the phone. "I didn’t think you'd have time for... this."

Avis laughs softly, low and indulgent, and you can practically picture the smirk tugging at her lips. "I always have time for you, darling." There's a pause, and then, with that same commanding ease, she says, "Come to my office."

You glance at the clock, late enough that most people have already gone home, but not too late to raise suspicion.

"I—"

"Now," she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument.

And just like that, the line goes dead, leaving you gripping the receiver with a heart pounding far too fast for your liking.

Your footsteps echo down the deserted hallway leading to the executive offices, the dim lighting casting long shadows against the polished floors. The studio feels different at night, hushed, eerie, as if all the glamour has been stripped away, leaving only the bones of the empire Avis now rules.

You hesitate outside her door for just a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing it open.

Avis is seated behind her husband’s—her—desk, a crystal glass of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. The glow of her desk lamp casts sharp angles across her features, highlighting the perfect curve of her lips and the sharp glint in her eyes. She looks utterly unbothered, completely at ease, as if she isn’t carrying the weight of an entire studio on her shoulders.

And yet, when she sees you, something flickers in her expression, something dark and satisfied.

“Close the door, darling,” she says smoothly, taking a slow sip of her drink. “I don’t bite.”

Not unless you ask her to.

You do as she says, the heavy door clicking shut behind you, sealing you both inside the dimly lit office.

Avis leans back in her chair, crossing her legs with a slow, deliberate movement that has your mouth going dry. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You swallow, shifting under her gaze. “I—no, I’ve just been busy.”

"Busy," she repeats, as if tasting the word and finding it amusing. She sets her drink down, standing with a grace that should be impossible in those heels, stepping around the desk with the same lazy confidence that always leaves you breathless.

She stops just inches away, her perfume wrapping around you, and tilts your chin up with one perfectly manicured finger. “I don’t like being ignored.”

You exhale shakily. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”

Avis hums, clearly unconvinced. “No?” Her thumb drags lightly over your lower lip, teasing. “Then why did I have to call you?”

You don’t have an answer for that, not one that won’t sound pathetic. Instead, you lean into her touch, and Avis’s smile curves in satisfaction.

“That’s better,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the corner of your mouth, the same ghost of a kiss she’d given you that night at the party. “I do enjoy your obedience.”

Your breath hitches as her hands skim down your arms, slow and deliberate. “We agreed,” you murmur, more for yourself than for her. “Just sex. No complications.”

Avis pulls back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes glinting with something wicked. “Oh, darling,” she purrs, fingers curling around your waist, “I never said anything about keeping it simple.”

And just like that, your knees go weak.

You’ve been waiting for this, aching for it. It’s been days, but it might as well have been years for how much you've thought about her, how much you've wanted her.

And now, here she is. Avis Amberg, standing before you, wrapped up in her skirt suit and a confidence that could bring nations to their knees.

You take your time. You have to. You don't want to rush this, don't want to squander a single second of having her in your hands again.

Your fingers find the buttons of her jacket, slow and deliberate, sliding each one through its hole with care that borders on reverence. Avis watches you, her dark eyes half lidded, heavy with amusement and something deeper, something simmering just beneath the surface.

“I do love a girl who knows exactly what she wants,” she murmurs, the rich velvet of her voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You don’t answer. Instead, you slide the jacket from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a whisper of fabric. The silk blouse beneath clings to her in all the right places, and you trace your fingers along the line of buttons, feeling the heat of her body seeping through the delicate material.

Your lips follow where your hands lead, brushing soft kisses along her collarbone, letting the warmth of her skin settle on your tongue. She smells like jasmine and whiskey, an intoxicating combination that fills your senses and leaves you dizzy.

Avis hums softly, her fingers tangling in your hair, guiding your mouth lower.

"You've been thinking about me," she whispers, and you don't bother denying it.

"Every second," you murmur against her skin, letting your teeth graze lightly over the delicate curve of her neck.

A quiet, breathy whimper escapes her lips, and the sound is enough to drive you wild. Your hands move of their own accord, sliding down her sides, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath your touch.

The blouse is next. You unfasten the buttons one by one, excruciatingly slow, dragging your fingertips along the exposed skin as you go. Avis sighs, her body arching ever so slightly into your touch, and you revel in the power you hold, just for now, just in this moment.

When the last button slips free, you push the fabric aside, revealing smooth, bare skin beneath, the faintest hint of lace peeking through. Your breath catches at the sight of her, exquisite, effortless, everything you imagined and more.

Your lips trail lower, pressing open mouthed kisses across the swell of her chest, teasing, lingering. She tastes like desire, like something forbidden and indulgent, and you can't get enough.

Avis tilts her head back, her fingers still tight in your hair, guiding you where she wants you, and you follow eagerly, your mouth tracing the curve of her collarbone, the dip between her breasts.

The sound she makes when your tongue flicks out to taste the delicate hollow of her throat, is nothing short of sinful. A soft, helpless whimper, slipping past her lips and breaking the heavy silence that fills the office.

You smirk against her skin. “You like that?”

Avis’s laugh is breathless, tinged with the slightest edge of impatience. “Shut up and keep going.”

You grin, obliging without hesitation, your hands sliding behind her back to unhook the intricate laces of her corset. The corset falls away easily, and you pull back for just a moment, just to look.

God, you love her breasts.

Full and soft, perfect in every way, they fit into your hands like they were made to be there. You run your thumbs across her nipples, watching with satisfaction as they harden under your touch. Avis shivers, her lips parting in a quiet gasp, and it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

You dip your head, pressing kisses to the swell of one breast, then the other, your tongue tracing delicate patterns across her skin. Every touch, every flicker of your tongue draws a new reaction, soft sighs, quiet moans, the way her body presses into yours, demanding more without words.

Her legs part instinctively, wrapping around your waist, and the warmth of her so close, so eager, has you biting back a groan of your own.

You lift her, effortlessly, guiding her onto the desk, and she lets you, settling against the polished wood with a grace that makes your head spin.

Leaning over her, your hands slide up her thighs, inching the hem of her skirt higher, exposing smooth skin and silk stockings that cling to her legs in a way that leaves you breathless.

"God, Avis," you murmur against her skin, kissing down her sternum, lingering between the valley of her breasts.

She hums, pleased, her fingers curling under your chin, lifting your face until your eyes meet hers. There's something dangerous in the way she looks at you, something possessive, something that says she knows exactly how much you want her.

And she loves it.

Her nails trail down your jaw, her voice a sultry whisper. “Keep going.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

Your tongue flicks over one nipple, drawing it into your mouth with a slow, deliberate pull, and Avis’s head falls back with a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers tangle in your hair again, tugging, urging you on, and you indulge her, lavishing attention on her breasts with lips and tongue, alternating between teasing and torturous.

She’s unraveling beneath you, slowly but surely, and the power of it is intoxicating. The way her body arches, the soft sounds that escape her lips, the subtle, needy roll of her hips against yours.

Your hands move lower, tracing the lace edge of her garter belt, your fingers slipping beneath it to feel the smooth heat of her skin.

"You’re so beautiful," you murmur, your voice reverent, breathless.

Avis chuckles, though it’s weaker this time, more affected. "You’re getting better at saying the right things."

You press a kiss just above her heart, your hands squeezing her thighs. "I mean it."

For a fleeting moment, something raw, something vulnerable flashes in her eyes, it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. She exhales sharply, her head tilting back, exposing the graceful curve of her throat to you once more. “Then show me.”

And you do.

With every kiss, every touch, every whispered sigh that fills the office, you show her exactly how much you've been wanting this, wanting her.

But you're not finished with her yet.

Not even close.

You stand back for a moment, eyes tracing the curve of her body, the way the fabric of her skirt clings to her hips. Slowly, deliberately, you reach for the waistband, fingers brushing against her soft skin as you peel the fabric away, the garter slipping easily from her legs. You take your time, removing each piece of clothing as if savouring the moment, letting the air linger between each move.

Once she's fully undressed from the waist down, you step closer, your hands resting on her thighs, feeling the heat radiate from her.

You bend forward, your lips press against the delicate skin of her inner thighs. Avis’s breath hitches, a soft, anticipatory sigh escaping her lips as your fingers trail teasing patterns along the smooth expanse of her legs.

But this isn’t enough, not for you, not for her. You want her spread out for you, laid bare, fully open and vulnerable beneath your touch.

You straighten, grasping her thighs with deliberate care, and bend her legs, placing them wide apart on the polished wood of the desk. The way she lets you, the way she offers herself up so willingly, makes your pulse race.

Avis Amberg, naked and sprawled out before you, the soft light from the desk lamp casting long shadows across her body, highlighting every tempting curve, every inch of her skin. Her chest rises and falls in shallow, eager breaths, her lips parted, dark eyes watching you with that same commanding heat, even when she’s the one surrendering.

You take your time, your fingers gliding up the inside of her thighs, before finally, finally leaning in and pressing your lips to the sensitive skin there.

Soft kisses first, then teasing flicks of your tongue, inching closer. Avis moans, a frustrated little sound, and you smile against her thigh.

"Darling," she breathes, her voice heavy with warning and desire, her nails grazing through your hair with just enough force to make your scalp tingle. "Don't test my patience."

But you do. You love to.

You hum against her skin, ignoring the implied threat and dragging your mouth higher, slower, letting your tongue trace along the soft, sensitive crease of her thigh before pulling away again.

Her breath comes quicker now, her body tensing beneath your touch, hips shifting restlessly against the desk. You can feel her frustration mounting, the way she needs more, but you aren’t done playing yet.

"You're so eager," you murmur, echoing words she’s said to you before, your lips ghosting over the heat radiating from her core. "I think I like you like this."

Avis groans, a low, desperate sound that shoots straight to your core, and before she can protest, before she can take control, you finally give her what she wants.

Your tongue flicks out, teasing over her centre, tasting her with a slow, deliberate stroke that has her thighs trembling against your shoulders. You press deeper, your hands gripping her thighs tightly as you work her with your mouth, slow and unrelenting.

Avis gasps sharply, her fingers twisting in your hair as your tongue swirls around her clit, soft and teasing at first, before you build the pressure, working her up with careful precision. You drag your fingers down, slipping them inside her, feeling the way she clenches around you, already so desperate and wanting.

"Yes," she moans, her head falling back, her back arching beautifully off the desk. "Just like that."

You love the way she unravels under you, the way her breath comes in shallow gasps, the way her body moves with each calculated flick of your tongue. You curl your fingers just right, stroking that perfect spot inside her, and she lets out a cry that’s music to your ears.

"You taste so good," you murmur against her, the vibrations making her shudder beneath you.

Avis's grip on you tightens, her hips lifting, desperate for more, and you give it to her, your tongue circling, flicking, teasing until she's writhing on the desk, her polished control slipping away with every breathless moan.

You push her higher and higher, your tongue working in tandem with your fingers, relentless and focused, knowing exactly what she needs.

And then, finally, you give the finishing touch, one precise insistent suck on her swollen clit  sends her over the edge.

She cries out, loud and unrestrained, her body convulsing beneath you as waves of pleasure crash through her. Her thighs clamp around your head, trembling, and you don’t stop, not until you’ve pulled every last shudder, every last moan from her lips.

Her body goes lax against the desk, her chest heaving, her hand still tangled in your hair as she slowly, slowly comes back down to earth.

You lift your head, your chin glistening, a smug smile tugging at your lips as you press a soft kiss to the inside of her thigh. "Worth the wait?"

Avis lets out a breathless laugh, her head rolling to the side as she gazes down at you with dark, satisfied eyes. 

You grin, dragging your tongue across your lips, tasting her once more. The weight of her release still lingers between you both, the heat of her skin against yours, the scent of sex and sweat thick in the air. Avis remains sprawled against the desk for a moment longer, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm as she regains her breath. But then, with the fluid grace that only she possesses, she shifts, sitting up, her dark eyes locked onto you with something wicked simmering beneath their depths.

You expect her to say something teasing, something smug, but she doesn't. Instead, she stands, and steps toward you with a deliberate slowness that makes your pulse skitter.

“Lose the clothes,” she says simply, her voice low and commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the buttons of your blouse, the anticipation thick between you. You’re painfully aware of her gaze, the way she watches every movement with a quiet, predatory hunger. The silk slides from your shoulders, pooling onto the floor, followed quickly by your skirt.

You stand before her in nothing but your slip, feeling entirely exposed beneath her calculating stare.

Avis’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her fingers skimming lightly over your shoulder before pressing firmly down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Without another word, she switches your positions in a blink, you against the desk now, your back hitting the polished wood with a dull thud, and she stands between your legs, crowding into your space.

Her touch is different this time.

Softer. More deliberate.

She works you slowly, with a care that surprises you, tracing gentle circles over your thighs, her lips pressing featherlight kisses along the curve of your neck. The tenderness is unexpected, and it nearly undoes you right then and there.

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers gripping the edge of the desk, but it's not enough. You're too desperate, too wound up from waiting, from wanting her for days.

“Avis,” you whisper, arching into her touch, your voice trembling with need. “Please.”

She hums in amusement, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “So impatient,” she muses, dragging her nails lightly down your stomach, making you shudder beneath her. She pauses, her fingers lingering just above where you ache for her touch, then slowly, deliberately, drags them lower. Her fingertips trace teasingly, checking, gauging just how ready you are, before finally pressing lightly, testing the heat and wetness of your skin.

Your head falls back against the desk, frustration pooling low in your belly. "I've waited too long," you murmur, your voice breaking. "Please, Avis, I need—"

Avis clicks her tongue, leaning back slightly to study you, her dark eyes flickering with something dangerously close to pity. “Poor thing,” And before you can process it, she grips your thighs firmly, spreading you wider, pinning you beneath her gaze.

Your breath catches, anticipation burning, your body aching for what comes next.

"Since you asked so nicely," Avis murmurs, her voice a velvet promise.

And then—oh.

She plunges her fingers into you without warning, deep and unrelenting, and you cry out, your back arching off the desk as the sudden, ruthless pace leaves you breathless.

Avis holds you there, one hand splayed against your stomach, keeping you down as her fingers work you with precision, dragging in and out, curling in ways that have you trembling. The desk creaks beneath you, your body reacting to every thrust, every relentless push that leaves you gasping for air.

Your fingers curl against the wood, gripping onto anything to ground yourself, but it’s impossible when she’s touching you like this, taking you like this.

She leans over you, her breath warm against your throat, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “Look at you,” she murmurs, her fingers never slowing, never relenting. “So desperate for me.”

You whimper, your hips grinding down against her hand, chasing the pleasure that’s building too quickly, too intensely.

Avis’s lips trail down your collarbone, lower, teeth grazing over the swell of your breast, and it sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

She knows exactly what she’s doing, exactly how to unravel you.

"More," you gasp, and Avis chuckles, the sound rich and indulgent.

"Greedy little thing," she murmurs, and then, oh God, her thumb circles your clit, slow and deliberate, teasing you with featherlight touches that have you on the edge in an instant.

You're close, so close, the pressure coiling tight in your core, every nerve in your body alive and burning under her touch.

"Please," you beg, your voice wrecked, barely a whisper. "Please, Avis."

She doesn’t warn you. Doesn’t slow down. One final stroke, just right, just perfect, and suddenly, you’re gone, completely, helplessly undone.

Pleasure crashes through you in a violent, consuming wave, tearing a full on scream from your lips as your body shudders beneath her touch, your release pulsing through you in relentless, shattering waves.

Avis doesn’t stop, not yet.

She works you through it, drawing out every last tremor, every last ragged moan, until you’re boneless against the desk, trembling and spent.

Finally, she withdraws, her hands smoothing over your shaking thighs in a rare moment of gentleness, and you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

Avis stands back, watching you with that familiar smirk, her fingers tracing lazy circles over the inside of your thigh. “You look rather stunning like this,” she muses. “Utterly wrecked.”

You can’t even muster a response, too lost in the lingering aftershocks of what she’s done to you.

Avis chuckles, stepping away, leaving you sprawled across the desk as she reaches for her cigarette case, lighting one with a practiced flick. She takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke with a satisfied hum.

The weight of what just happened hangs heavy in the air, thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the ever present jasmine of Avis’s perfume. For a moment, neither of you speak. The only sounds are your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the city outside the office window.

Avis sits down back against the desk, still bare, the glow of her desk lamp casting golden light over her skin. She watches you with a lazy satisfaction, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

Your body is still humming, your legs unsteady as you push yourself upright, brushing a hand over your flushed face. You glance down at your clothes, crumpled and scattered across the floor, a stark contrast to the usually pristine office.

Avis lifts a perfectly arched brow. “You’re not going to just stand there all night, are you?” Her voice is low, indulgent, and full of amusement.

You swallow, bending down to gather your clothes, your fingers trembling slightly. “I—no,” you murmur, trying to collect yourself, but Avis’s eyes never leave you, making it nearly impossible to focus.

She picks up her discarded blouse from the desk chair, shaking it out with effortless grace before slipping it back on, the silky fabric sliding over her skin like water. You watch, entranced, as she buttons it slowly, each movement precise, deliberate, a performance in its own right.

Your blouse feels less refined in comparison, your hands fumbling with the buttons as you attempt to regain some semblance of composure. You can feel her gaze on you, heavy and assessing, and it makes your skin prickle with awareness.

Avis steps closer, reaching out to adjust the collar of your blouse with an infuriating gentleness, smoothing down the fabric before letting her fingers linger at the hollow of your throat. “You should wear red more often,” she murmurs, her nails dragging lightly across your skin. “It suits you.”

Your breath hitches, and you catch her smirk before she turns away, reaching for her skirt with the same ease that makes you ache. She slides it up her legs, fastening it at her waist with an elegance that seems effortless, but you know better. Everything about Avis is calculated, deliberate. Even now, as she straightens the hem and fixes her hair, she radiates an untouchable confidence that leaves you breathless.

You glance down at your skirt, wrinkled and hastily discarded, and hasten to pull it back on, smoothing it over your hips. You can still feel the ghost of her touch there, the way her hands had gripped you, how her nails had left their invisible marks.

Avis watches your struggle with a knowing look, running a hand through her dark hair, tousling it just enough to look artfully disheveled. “Darling, you look like you’ve been ravished,” she muses, tapping a cigarette from her silver case and lighting it with a flick of her lighter. “Which, of course, you have.”

You glare at her, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re not exactly subtle yourself.”

Avis exhales a slow curl of smoke, tilting her head as she surveys her reflection in the mirror behind the desk. “Oh, I never need to be,” she says smugly, adjusting her lipstick with the tip of her finger. “People expect a certain... glow from me.”

You roll your eyes, slipping your heels back on and attempting to smooth out the wrinkles in your skirt, but it's hopeless. You sigh in frustration, running a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself presentable enough to step back out into the world without everyone knowing exactly what you’ve been up to.

Avis watches you struggle, clearly entertained. “Here,” she says, reaching for the comb tucked neatly in the drawer of her desk. She steps close, too close, and begins combing through your hair with careful, deft strokes, the intimacy of it making your heart stutter.

“You don’t have to—”

“Hush,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your scalp. “Let me enjoy the fruits of my labor.”

You let out a soft laugh, closing your eyes for a moment as she fixes your hair, her touch lingering longer than necessary. The moment feels... odd. Softer than you expected.

When she finishes, she steps back with a satisfied smile, pressing the comb into your hand. “There. Good as new.”

You glance at yourself in the mirror, taking in the slightly flushed cheeks and the telltale glint in your eyes that no amount of fixing can hide.

Avis smirks, as if she can read your thoughts. “Not too obvious,” she teases, exhaling another cloud of smoke. “Just enough to keep people guessing.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

As you both finish dressing, the atmosphere shifts slightly. The tension is still there, of course, it is, but something about the way she buttons her cufflinks, the way she watches you from the corner of her eye, feels different.

Like you’re standing on the edge of something, something far more dangerous than just sex in her office.

Avis finishes first, adjusting the cuffs of her blouse with a satisfied hum before stepping toward the door. “I’ll see you around,” she says smoothly, her fingers grazing the back of your hand as she passes.

You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Yeah.”

But just before she leaves, she turns back, her gaze locking onto yours. “Oh, and darling?”

You blink. “Yeah?”

Avis smirks, exhaling one last cloud of smoke before crushing the cigarette in the ashtray. “Try not to think about me too much tonight.”

And with that, she’s gone, leaving you standing in her office, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a tangled mess of anticipation and something dangerously close to longing.

You stare at the closed door for a long moment, your fingers trailing absently over the edge of the desk, the same spot where she had unraveled you moments ago.

With a deep breath, you gather the last of your things and head out into the cool night air, the taste of her still lingering on your lips, her voice echoing in your head.

The cool night air hits you the moment you step out of the office building, a stark contrast to the warmth still simmering beneath your skin. The lot is quiet now, the earlier bustle of actors, directors, and executives reduced to a few lingering stragglers, crew members packing up, secretaries rushing home, and the faint hum of distant conversations fading into the night.

You walk briskly, the echo of your heels tapping against the pavement the only sound that fills the space around you. It’s too quiet, too still, and your mind is racing, filled with fragmented flashes of what had just happened in that office, of Avis.

Your legs feel weak beneath you, the ache between your thighs a delicious reminder of her, of how thoroughly she had taken you apart. You should feel satisfied, sated, but instead, there's a gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach that refuses to subside.

The weight of what you’ve done, what you are doing, starts to settle in as you slip into the waiting cab. You give the driver your address in a voice that’s quieter than usual, staring out of the window as the city passes by in blurred streaks of neon and headlights.

You should feel guilty. You should feel something other than the intoxicating thrill that’s still coursing through you.

But all you can think about is her.

Her voice. Her touch. The way she had looked at you when you begged.

God.

You rest your head against the window, exhaling shakily.

By the time you arrive at your apartment, the city feels quieter, lonelier. You slip out of your heels the moment you step inside, tossing your coat over the back of the sofa and heading straight to your bedroom.

Your reflection catches your eye in the mirror as you pass, and you pause.

You look different.

The smudged lipstick, the tousled hair, the faint flush still lingering across your chest. Avis’s touch is all over you, in ways that won’t wash off so easily.

You bring your fingers to your lips, tracing the outline of them, remembering the way she had kissed you, slow and consuming, like she had all the time in the world.

A frustrated sigh escapes you, and you turn away from the mirror, stripping out of your clothes as you head to the bathroom. The hot water does little to wash away the weight of tonight, but you let it scald your skin anyway, standing beneath the spray with your hands pressed against the tiles, your head bowed.

You can still feel her fingers on you. Still hear the way she had whispered your name.

No amount of water can rinse that away.

The studio was silent, save for the faint hum of distant lights and the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere in the background. You stepped into the dimly lit hallway leading to Avis’s office, your movements deliberate, quiet. The polished wood beneath your feet reflected the faint glow of the overhead lamps, and the cool air carried the faint scent of old paper and cigarettes.

It had been a week. A week since you’d last seen her properly. A week since you’d touched her, since the memory of her moans and trembling hands had been etched into your mind. You’d given her space, time to deal with the relentless demands of running Ace Studios and weathering the constant scrutiny over the new film. But your patience had worn thin.

This wasn’t anger. It wasn’t dominance. It was concern.

You couldn’t keep watching her run herself ragged, pushing through endless days and sleepless nights without pause.

The door was unlocked, just as you expected. You didn’t knock.

The door creaked open, and there she was, she stood with her back to you, one hand braced on the edge of the desk, the other holding a cigarette. Her head was slightly bowed, her posture tense as she stared at the scattered papers in front of her. The soft glow of her desk lamp cast a warm light over her, highlighting the curve of her waist, the arch of her neck. 

You shut the door behind you. Locking it. “You’ve made it a habit to work late shifts, I see.” Your voice cut through the stillness, low and husky, carrying the weight of your frustration and worry. 

Avis turned sharply, her dark eyes meeting yours as soon as she registered your voice. She didn’t speak at first, didn’t even move, she simply stared at you, her usual sharpness dimmed by exhaustion. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people, darling,” she said smoothly, though there was an edge to her voice, worn, tired.

Your gaze dropped, sweeping over her slowly. She looked as perfect as ever, her blouse crisp, her skirt hugging her hips, but you could see the faint redness in her eyes, the tired lines she couldn’t quite hide.

You took a few measured steps closer, inhaling deeply as her scent reached you. Jasmine, smoke, and the faintest trace of whiskey clung to her skin. It enticed you in ways you couldn’t explain, and it angered you for reasons you could.

She said nothing, but the way her eyes darted to your lips and back again told you everything.

You licked your lips, staring down at her, and you saw the exact moment she realised. Her breath hitched, her hands flexing slightly at her sides as she turned abruptly, moving to unfasten her skirt, but you weren’t about to let her take control.

You were faster.

You stepped behind her in an instant, grabbing her hands and pinning them firmly against the desk. She gasped sharply, her body tensing under your touch, but she didn’t resist.

Her breathing was shallow, uneven, and for a moment, she froze, as though caught between instinct and surrender.

Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in, your chest pressing against her back, your breath hot against her neck. She shivered, her hands twitching beneath yours, and you felt the faint tremor running through her body.

You guided her hands to the edge of the desk, pressing them down firmly. “Don’t move,” you murmured, your voice rough, and she obeyed without question.

Her body quivered as you spun her around, her back hitting the desk. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her dark eyes wide and unguarded as she watched you.

You didn’t waste any time.

Dropping to your knees, you let your hands trail up her thighs, lifting the hem of her skirt inch by inch. Her breathing grew heavier, her chest rising and falling as you worked the fabric higher, exposing the delicate lace of her panties. 

Your lips pressed against the inside of her knee, trailing slow, deliberate kisses up her thigh. When you reached her centre, your teeth grazed the waistband of her panties, hooking the lace between them. 

Avis gasped, her hands flying to grip the desk, her knuckles turning white at the force of her hold. You didn’t stop, dragging the fabric down with your index and your teeth, the sensation sending a shiver through her body.

Her thighs were trembling now, her breathing ragged as your lips trailed higher. When your tongue finally flicked against her, she let out a loud, broken gasp.

You didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath.

Your mouth moved with relentless precision, your tongue stroking her with a rough, unyielding rhythm. You sucked hard, pulling another sharp cry from her lips, your fingers digging into her thighs to keep her steady. You wanted to eat her out until she was on the verge of tears, you only wanted to hear her tonight.

Avis’s moans filled the room, desperate and breathy, her hips bucking against your mouth. You matched her movements, your tongue and lips working her with an intensity that left her trembling.

But it wasn’t enough.

Sliding one hand between her legs, you pushed two fingers inside her without warning, curling them just right. She nearly screamed, her back arching as her body jerked against you, her cries turning into frantic whimpers.

Her hands were clawing at the desk now, her nails scraping against the wood as she tried, and failed, to steady herself. Her thighs clamped around your head, her body tightening with every rough thrust of your fingers and every flick of your tongue against her clit.

You could feel her breaking, feel the tension building in her body as you pushed her higher and higher.

“Let go,” you growled against her, your voice muffled, and with one final stroke of your tongue, she shattered.

Avis came with a loud, breathless scream, her entire body convulsing as her release tore through her. Her hands slipped from the desk, clutching desperately at your shoulders as her legs shook violently.

You didn’t stop, your tongue and fingers dragging out every last tremor, every last broken cry, she slumped forward, her body going slack.

There was no escape for her.

Even as her body trembled and sagged against you, her orgasm still echoing through her shudders and sharp breaths, you didn’t stop. The cruel, relentless motions of your tongue against her soaked cunt continued, driving her higher even as she tried to catch her breath.

She gasped, her voice breaking on a moan, her thighs shaking violently around you. Every flick of your tongue dragged more out of her, and you took all of it, every drop, every tremble, every desperate whimper. You tasted all of her, drank her in, her juices coating your lips and chin as you worked her with merciless precision.

“Fucking h-hell—” she stuttered, her voice raw, barely above a gasp.

“There you go, mama—there you go—” you murmured against her, the vibrations of your voice making her shudder anew.

Before she could come down fully, you shifted, lowering yourself until your back was flat against the floor, pulling her with you. Her thighs quivered as you guided her atop your face, her hips hovering just above you for a moment before she realised, too late, exactly what you intended.

Her body shivered as the weight of her fully pressed against you, your mouth immediately resuming its feast. You felt her hesitation, the fleeting tension in her muscles as she realised she was sitting completely on your face.

And then the sound of your tongue sliding against her centre ripped a loud, broken moan from her throat, and the hesitation was gone.

Her hands flew to your hair, gripping it tightly as she moved instinctively, grinding herself down against you. Her moans spilled out uncontrollably, each one louder, messier than the last, her hips rocking over your face with a desperate, uneven rhythm.

You held her steady, your hands gripping her hips firmly, guiding her movements as your tongue delved deeper, flicking and stroking her most sensitive spots. Every motion was chaotic, unsteady, her hips jerking erratically as she chased her high, but her need was raw, overpowering.

Her breath hitched with every additional flick of your tongue, her cries growing higher, sharper. She pushed herself down harder, her thighs trembling violently against your cheeks as she rode your face, the pressure and heat overwhelming.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, her voice ragged, trembling with the edge of her need. “Don’t you fucking—ah—stop—”

Her nails dug into your scalp, her grip desperate as she pushed herself down even harder, grinding herself against your mouth with abandon. You didn’t stop, didn’t slow, your tongue and lips working her relentlessly until she was falling apart again.

Her hips stuttered, her entire body tensing as a guttural cry tore from her lips. She came a second time, her release crashing over her in waves as she cussed, her words a broken, incoherent mix of gasps and moans.

You didn’t relent, letting her ride out every second, her body shaking uncontrollably as her orgasm spilled over you, smearing your face with her wetness. Her hips rocked against you, her movements erratic and desperate as she milked every last tremor, her cries echoing off the walls of the office.

When she finally slumped forward, her body going limp against you, her hands trembling as they slipped from your shoulders to the floor. Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, her thighs quivering as she tried, and failed, to regain control of herself.

Your hands gently stroked her thighs, your lips brushing against her overstimulated centre in one last teasing kiss before you finally pulled back, your face glistening with her arousal.

For a moment, the room was silent save for her shaky breaths and the faint hum of the desk lamp. You could feel her body trembling above you, her weight pressing into you as she let herself collapse fully, her hair falling in wild waves around her flushed face.

“Fucking hell,” she murmured breathlessly, her voice barely audible.

You smirked, pressing your lips to her thigh once more, your voice low and teasing as you murmured, “There you go, Avis.”

She didn’t respond, her only reply a shaky exhale as she slowly slid off you, her body still trembling from the aftershocks.

You guided her off of you slowly, your hands steady as you helped her find her balance, not that she had much left. Her body barely shifted before she collapsed beside you, her back pressing against the desk as her legs sprawled out. Her chest still heaved, her dark eyes hazy and unfocused as she tried to catch her breath, the weight of what just happened settling between you.

You rose to your feet, your movements unhurried, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke.

The air was thick with the scent of her, warm and heady, mingling with the faint trace of jasmine still clinging to her skin. The sound of her soft, shaky breaths filled the room, the silence between you stretching, charged but comfortable.

You gave her a moment, watching as she leaned back against the desk, her hands braced on either side of her. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks flushed with colour, her lips swollen from the cries you’d pulled from her.

Your eyes lingered on her for a beat longer before you stepped away, crossing the room in search of something. She watched you silently, her gaze heavy, following every movement.

You returned a moment later, a pack of cigarettes in your hand.

Avis’s eyes flicked to it immediately, a flicker of intrigue crossing her expression as you pulled one out, lighting it with a practiced motion. The sharp scent of smoke filled the room as you placed it between your fingers, taking a slow drag.

She stared at you, absorbed, her lips parting slightly.

“I want one,” she murmured, her voice hoarse, soft.

You glanced at her, raising an eyebrow as you stepped closer, the cigarette still balanced between your fingers. She looked up at you, something curious and expectant in her gaze.

Without a word, you took another drag, the smoke curling lazily from your lips as you crouched down in front of her. Avis stiffened slightly, her dark eyes watching you carefully as you reached for her, your fingers brushing against the side of her neck.

Her breath hitched as your hand slid to the back of her neck, gripping it firmly but not roughly, tilting her head back to meet your gaze. Her lips parted instinctively, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You leaned in, bringing your face closer to hers until your mouths were almost touching. Slowly, deliberately, you exhaled, the smoke curling from your lips into hers.

Her mouth opened wider, her lungs pulling in the smoke immediately, her body reacting to the act with a soft gasp. She exhaled seconds later, the smoke spilling from her lips, the motion too sensual, too intimate for something so simple.

You didn’t say anything, your fingers still gripping her neck as you watched her, your gaze heavy.

“Again,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly but filled with need.

You didn’t hesitate.

Bringing the cigarette to your lips, you took another long drag, the smoke burning hot in your lungs before you leaned in again. This time, your lips pressed against hers as you exhaled, the smoke pouring into her mouth as you kissed her deeply.

She moaned softly against you, her fingers reaching out to clutch at your arms, pulling you closer as she inhaled the mix of smoke, nicotine, and something distinctly you. Her lips parted wider, allowing you to deepen the kiss, her body leaning into yours as though she couldn’t get close enough.

When you finally pulled back, she exhaled slowly, her breath shaky, the smoke curling from her lips like a whispered secret.

The act was simple and yet it felt much too sensual for someone in that kind of situation.

Her gaze locked onto yours, her lips still parted, her body still trembling slightly. For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with tension, with heat.

Without a word, you leaned in again, your lips brushing against hers, softer this time, your tongue flicking against the seam of her mouth. Letting her taste herself on your tongue. 

Avis sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing against you, her hands sliding up to rest lightly on your shoulders. Her lips were warm, soft, pliant beneath yours, and you couldn’t help but deepen the kiss, pulling her closer.

When you finally broke apart, her eyes were half lidded, her lips swollen and glistening.

She exhaled another breath of smoke, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re dangerous,” she murmured, her voice low and raspy.

You chuckled softly, brushing your thumb over her cheek as you leaned back slightly. “And you’re trouble.”

Avis’s smirk widened slightly, her fingers trailing down your arms before she leaned back against the desk, her gaze still fixed on you.

The tension between you lingered, crackling like the ember of the cigarette still burning between your fingers.

You rose slowly, helping her up, your hands trailing up her sides, gripping her waist as you steadied her. Her hair was now a mess, falling out of her updo around her face, and her dark eyes were glassy, her lips parted as she struggled to catch her breath.

You reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, your thumb grazing her cheek. She leaned into your touch, her fingers curling lightly around your wrist, her breathing still uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The air was thick with the scent of her, the sound of her soft, shaky breaths the only thing breaking the silence.

“You’re going to take care of yourself now,” you said finally, your voice low but steady.

Her eyes flickered, something unspoken passing between you, and she nodded, her fingers tightening briefly around your wrist.

There was no escape for her.

The news breaks early in the morning, spreading through the studio lot like wildfire. Mr. Amberg is dead. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, he had been clinging to life for weeks, his heart attack leaving him more a ghost than a man in that hospital bed. But even so, hearing it out loud feels like a sudden shift in the ground beneath your feet.

It’s different now.

Avis isn’t just acting as the head of Ace Studios anymore. She is the head. No more signatures under his name, no more whispers behind closed doors about how she’s “really the one in charge.” Now it’s official. No more pretense. No more illusion. Avis Amberg reigns alone.

And yet, the lot feels like it’s holding its breath. Conversations hush when you walk past, the tension crackling through the corridors like static electricity. People mill around in little clusters, murmuring in low voices about what happens next, as if they don’t already know the answer.

You sit at your desk, staring blankly at the script in front of you, but none of the words make sense. Your thoughts are tangled, circling around the same thing over and over again. Has she eaten? Is she sleeping? Is she okay?

It’s a ridiculous thing to wonder about someone like Avis. She’s always been composed, always untouchable, always three steps ahead of everyone in the room. But grief... grief is different. Even for her.

You haven’t seen her all day, and it gnaws at you. Normally, she’s a constant presence—gliding through the halls with that razor sharp confidence, her heels echoing against the marble floors, her voice cutting through the air like silk wrapped steel. Today? Nothing.

You tap your fingers against the desk, restless. Maybe she’s home. Maybe she’s locked away in her office, chain smoking in the dark, refusing to let anyone see the cracks.

You shouldn’t care this much. You shouldn’t.

But the memory of her pressed against the desk, breathless and bare beneath you, lingers too heavily in your mind. The way she had looked at you in the aftermath, soft, unguarded, something flickering beneath the surface that you couldn’t quite place.

With a sigh, you push away from your desk, grabbing your coat and stepping outside. The evening air is cool, the distant hum of traffic a reminder that the world keeps moving, even when everything else feels frozen in place.

You find yourself in one of the darkened soundstages, cigarette in hand, watching the distant glow of the city skyline through the high windows.

You don’t hear her footsteps, but you know she’s there the moment the air shifts.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Avis’s voice cuts through the silence, and you turn, exhaling smoke through your nose.

She stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed over her chest. The usual perfection of her appearance is slightly undone tonight, her lipstick slightly smudged, her hair not as tightly pinned. And yet, she still looks like she could rule the world with a glance.

You flick ash to the ground, studying her carefully. “I could say the same to you.”

Avis smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I suppose you heard.”

You nod slowly. “It’s all anyone’s talking about.”

She steps inside, heels clicking softly against the concrete floor, and for once, there’s no bravado in her posture, just exhaustion. “It doesn’t feel real yet,” she murmurs, almost to herself.

You watch her, uncertain of what to say. You’re used to her being the one in control, the one who never falters. Seeing her like this, stripped down to something raw and human, sends a strange ache through your chest.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly, and it feels inadequate, but she nods anyway, her gaze distant.

Avis takes the cigarette from your fingers without asking, bringing it to her lips and taking a long, slow drag. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable. She stares off into the dark corners of the soundstage, where the remnants of old sets stand like abandoned relics of another time.

“He was a bastard,” she says eventually, exhaling smoke into the air. “And now I own his legacy.”

There’s no sadness in her tone, just a quiet sort of acceptance, but you catch the way her jaw tightens, the way her fingers tremble ever so slightly when she hands the cigarette back to you.

You take it, letting the weight of her words settle between you.

“I know it’s not the same,” you say after a moment, “but... you don’t have to do this alone.”

Avis’s lips twitch, but there’s no amusement there. “Don’t I?” she muses, looking at you with something unreadable in her eyes. “Tell me, darling, who else is going to step in and run this place?”

You have no answer for that. She’s right. It’s always been her.

Still, you reach out, hesitating for just a moment before resting a hand gently on her arm. The silk of her blouse is cool beneath your fingertips, but you can feel the warmth of her skin underneath, the tension thrumming through her body like a live wire.

For once, she doesn’t pull away.

“I’m serious,” you murmur. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Avis lets out a slow breath, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling, as if weighing your words. “It’s a nice thought,” she says eventually, her voice quieter now. “But you and I both know I don’t have that luxury.”

You don’t argue, because she’s right. Avis doesn’t get to grieve. Avis doesn’t get to break down. The world won’t allow it. And yet, standing here in the quiet, with your hand still resting lightly on her arm, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t always have to hold it all alone.

She reaches up, covering your hand with hers briefly, her touch surprisingly gentle. Then, just as quickly, she pulls away, straightening, slipping back into the version of herself that the world expects.

“I should go,” she says, smoothing down the front of her blouse as if to erase any sign of vulnerability. “Long day ahead tomorrow.”

You nod, watching as she steps toward the door, her movements calculated once again. But before she leaves, she pauses, glancing back over her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says softly, and it catches you off guard, the sincerity in it, the quiet weight.

You nod, offering her a small smile. “Anytime.”

And then she’s gone, disappearing into the night, leaving you standing alone in the empty soundstage with the ghost of her touch lingering on your skin and the knowledge that this, whatever this is between you, is far from over.

The days that follow feel different, heavier. The air at the studio is thick with tension, not the usual stress of productions running over schedule or actors throwing tantrums, but something quieter, something weightier. There’s an unspoken awareness now, a collective understanding that Avis Amberg is no longer just playing the role of the head of Ace Studios. She is the studio, and with that, the weight of expectation has doubled.

She moves through the halls with that same effortless grace, her posture never slipping, her voice always poised and commanding. But you see it, the way her fingers grip her cigarette a little too tightly, the slight tremor in her hands when she thinks no one’s looking.

She’s always been good at playing the part, but now it’s not a performance. It’s survival.

You watch her from a distance, feeling that familiar ache creep back into your chest. You want to reach out, to offer more than fleeting touches and whispered reassurances, but Avis is a fortress, and you’ve learned that pushing too hard only makes the walls rise higher.

Instead, you wait.

It’s late when you finally see her again—really see her.

You’re working late in your office, drowning in revisions and cigarette smoke, when a familiar knock echoes through the quiet.

Avis doesn’t wait for an invitation. She never does.

She steps inside, closing the door behind her with a quiet click, and for the first time in days, you see past the carefully curated mask she’s been wearing. Her shoulders sag just slightly, her usual immaculate hair slightly out of place, and there’s a tiredness in her eyes that no amount of powder can conceal.

She doesn’t speak right away. Instead, she crosses the room, picking up the drink you left on your desk, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. She hums in approval, setting it back down with a quiet clink before finally looking at you.

“Come to my house,” she says, and it’s not a question.

You blink, caught off guard. “Now?”

Avis arches a brow, as if the idea of you refusing is ridiculous. “Unless you have somewhere better to be?”

You shake your head. “No, I—of course.”

Her lips curve into something that isn’t quite a smile but isn’t far from it either. “Good. I could use some company.”

There’s something in her voice, something beneath the nonchalance that tugs at you, but you don’t push. Not yet.

You grab your coat, flicking off the desk lamp as you follow her out into the dimly lit corridors of the studio, the silence between you comfortable but charged with something unspoken.

Avis’s estate feels different at night.

You’ve been here before, at the party where it all started, where you first saw her without the carefully constructed distance she usually kept around herself. But now, the grand halls feel quieter, more intimate. There’s no music, no laughter echoing through the rooms, just the soft shuffle of your feet against the polished floors.

She leads you into the study, the one room in the house that feels the most like her. Heavy bookshelves line the walls, filled with novels and ledgers alike, and a crystal decanter sits on a tray by the leather armchairs.

Avis shrugs off her coat, draping it over the back of a chair before pouring two glasses of whiskey, handing you one without a word.

You take it, watching as she sinks into the chair opposite you, kicking off her heels and tucking one leg beneath her. She looks... tired. But beautiful, as always.

For a while, neither of you speak. You sip your drinks, letting the silence stretch, until finally, Avis sighs, rolling the glass between her fingers.

“It’s done now,” she says, more to herself than to you. “No more waiting, no more pretending.”

You nod slowly, watching her carefully. “How does it feel?”

Avis smirks, but it’s a pale imitation of her usual self. “Like I’ve inherited a kingdom of sand.” She takes another sip, her gaze fixed on the amber liquid. “Everyone’s waiting to see if I’ll crumble under it.”

You lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “You won’t.”

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and for a moment, the cool façade slips. There’s something raw beneath it, something uncertain. “No,” she agrees softly, “I won’t.”

It’s strange, this quiet honesty between you. You’re used to the push and pull, the teasing, the control she so easily wields over everyone around her—including you. But tonight, she’s letting you see more, letting you glimpse the cracks she works so hard to hide.

You reach out, covering her hand with yours, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she stares at your fingers, tracing them lightly with her own before sighing, her eyes drifting closed for a brief moment.

“I don’t do this,” she murmurs.

“Do what?”

“This.” She gestures vaguely between you, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Let people... linger.”

You squeeze her hand gently. “I’m not most people.”

She exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No. You’re not.”

The weight of that acknowledgment sits between you, heavy and full of meaning neither of you are quite ready to say out loud.

Instead, you sit there, hands intertwined, sharing the quiet and the whiskey, and it’s enough.

For now.

The whiskey sits warm in your stomach, but it does nothing to dull the awareness you have of her. Avis, sitting across from you, looking smaller in the dim light of her study. The usual armor she wears, the poise, the sharp tongued wit, the unwavering confidence, feels thinner tonight, like a veil just barely holding her together.

Your hand still rests over hers, your fingers tracing absent patterns against her skin. She hasn’t pulled away, and that alone feels like a victory, like a secret she's letting you in on, just for tonight.

She swirls the whiskey in her glass, watching the amber liquid with a distant gaze. “I keep waiting,” she murmurs, more to herself than to you. “For it to feel different. For it to feel... real.”

You study her, the faintest flicker of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “What doesn’t feel real?”

She lets out a quiet, breathy laugh, shaking her head. “All of it.” Her fingers tighten slightly around yours, grounding herself. “The power, the control. The fact that it’s mine now, no strings attached.” A pause, then: “That he’s really gone.”

There it is. The thing neither of you have said out loud.

You watch her carefully, choosing your words. “You didn’t love him.”

It’s not a question, and Avis doesn’t treat it like one. She lifts the glass to her lips, taking a slow sip before meeting your gaze, her dark eyes unreadable. “I did at the beginning. But towards the end? No,” she admits finally. “Not in the way a wife should.”

You nod, expecting the answer, but it doesn’t make it any less heavy. “But it’s still a loss.”

Avis hums in agreement, leaning back in her chair, her free hand tracing along the edge of the armrest. “A loss of what, though? I haven’t quite figured that out yet.”

You can’t help but watch the way her lips purse slightly, as if she’s debating how much more to give you. It’s rare, this side of her, unguarded, unsure. It makes something deep in your chest ache.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot more than most people ever will,” you say softly, offering the faintest hint of a smile. “But it’s okay to admit that it’s not enough.”

Avis regards you for a moment, something flickering behind her eyes—something that looks dangerously close to gratitude. Then, she smirks, and just like that, the Avis you know so well slides back into place. “Oh, darling,” she drawls, taking another slow sip of her drink. “I’d never admit that out loud.”

You grin, shaking your head. “Of course not.”

She watches you carefully, the smirk lingering, but there's something softer beneath it now. “You’re quite good at this,” she murmurs.

You raise an eyebrow. “At what?”

Avis gestures between you, lazy and indulgent. “Sitting there. Listening. Not asking for anything.”

You chuckle softly. “Maybe I like listening to you.”

“Dangerous habit,” she muses, swirling the whiskey in her glass again. “I might keep you around.”

Your stomach twists at that, a quiet thrill curling beneath your ribs, but you keep your expression carefully neutral. “I might not mind.”

The air between you shifts, the easy banter settling into something heavier, something charged. You watch as she stands, moving to pour another drink, but instead of returning to her chair, she stops behind yours, her fingers ghosting lightly over your shoulder.

Her touch is different now, less teasing, more deliberate. She lingers, her nails tracing the line of your collarbone, her voice softer when she finally speaks.

“You’re dangerous too, you know,” she murmurs, and you feel the heat of her breath against your skin. “Caring. It’s a weakness.”

You tilt your head slightly, looking up at her. “Or a strength.”

Avis smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Not in my world.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the weight of her hand on your shoulder feeling heavier than it should. Then, just as quickly, she steps away, retreating back to the bar cart and refilling her glass with a smooth, practiced motion.

The absence of her touch leaves you cold.

You clear your throat, breaking the tension. “So, what now?”

Avis glances at you over the rim of her glass, considering the question. “Now,” she says, her voice returning to its usual crispness, “I go back to work. I run the empire. And you... you keep being my delightful distraction.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but there’s an edge to it, an unspoken understanding that distraction is far from an accurate description of whatever this is between you.

You smirk, leaning back in your chair. “I think you’re more distracted than you care to admit.”

Avis narrows her eyes at you, but there's no real bite behind it. “Careful, darling. I could have you fired.”

You grin, unbothered. “But you won’t.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head, but there’s something fond in the way she looks at you, something almost... soft. And for a moment, you wonder if you’ve managed to slip past her carefully placed defenses in a way no one else has.

The thought is dangerous.

Avis finishes her drink and sets the glass down with a quiet clink. “It’s late,” she says, stretching lazily. “I should get some sleep before I start running this circus again tomorrow.”

You nod, rising to your feet, but you hesitate for just a second too long. Avis notices, of course she does, and instead of ushering you out, she reaches for your tie, fingers curling around the fabric.

“You could stay,” she says, and it’s not an invitation. It’s a statement. A fact.

Your heart stutters in your chest, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “Is that what you want?”

Avis tilts her head, studying you carefully, and then, finally, she answers. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

It’s not a declaration of love. It’s not even an admission of need. But it’s honest, and it’s enough.

You nod, stepping closer, your hands settling at her waist. “Then I’ll stay.”

Her lips brush yours, soft and slow, nothing like the urgency of before. It’s different now, something gentler, something real.

And as she leads you upstairs, the weight of what this means settles deep in your chest.

You might not have the words for it yet, but this—this—is something worth staying for.

The morning sun spills through the curtains, painting the bedroom in soft, golden hues. The world outside is already awake, cars hum in the distance, the faint murmur of the city filtering through the open window, but in here, everything feels suspended in time. Warm. Quiet. Intimate.

You lie still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic sound of Avis’s breathing beside you. It’s different from last time, no hurried goodbyes, no slipping out before dawn. No illusion that this was just another late night indulgence.

Avis stirs, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she shifts against you. Her hair is tousled, curling over her shoulders in lazy waves, and her face, free from its usual layers of artifice, looks softer in the morning light.

You can’t help but watch her, letting yourself linger in this moment, this rare stillness. A part of you wonders if she’s ever let anyone see her like this, unguarded, vulnerable in the soft embrace of morning.

Eventually, she opens her eyes, blinking slowly before her gaze lands on you. For a moment, neither of you speak. She simply looks at you, as if assessing whether she should let the morning ruin whatever delicate balance was achieved last night.

“You stayed,” she murmurs, voice rough with sleep but still carrying that effortless authority she never quite loses.

You offer a small smile. “You asked me to.”

Avis hums, rolling onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as if considering that fact. “I suppose I did.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, watching her carefully. “Do you regret it?”

She turns her head to look at you, and for once, there’s no teasing glint in her eyes, no mask of indifference. “No.” The answer is simple, quiet, but it holds a weight that makes your chest tighten.

Neither of you say anything for a while after that. She eventually reaches for the cigarette case on the nightstand, lighting one and taking a slow, deliberate drag before offering it to you. You take it, letting the smoke curl lazily between you, the shared silence speaking louder than words ever could.

After a moment, she exhales softly, tapping ash into the crystal tray. “You should go before the vultures start circling.”

You nod, even though you don’t move. “You don’t want anyone knowing?”

Avis smirks, though there’s something tired beneath it. “I don’t care what they know. I just don’t feel like hearing their opinions.”

You grin, passing the cigarette back to her. “I think they already have plenty.”

She lets out a quiet laugh, her free hand resting lightly on her stomach. “They always do.” Her gaze flickers back to you, more serious now. “But this... stays ours.”

You nod, understanding. Whatever this is, it exists in the quiet spaces between the chaos of her world. It doesn’t need a name, and it doesn’t need to be anything more than what it is.

Still, you find yourself reaching for her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, letting your fingers linger against her cheek. She doesn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly, and for once, you’re not referring to the studio, to her power, to her control.

Avis closes her eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch before opening them again. “I will be.” It’s the closest thing to honesty she’s ever given you.

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before finally pulling away, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. The air feels cooler without her warmth beside you, but you don’t linger on it.

As you get dressed, Avis watches from the bed, cigarette balanced between her fingers, her expression unreadable.

When you slip on your coat and turn to face her, she tilts her head, a thoughtful look crossing her features. “You know,” she muses, “you’re awfully good at not asking questions.”

You smile. “Maybe I already know the answers.”

Avis smirks, but it’s softer this time. “I do like that about you.”

You linger at the door, hesitating for just a second too long. But before you can say anything, Avis speaks, her voice quieter now.

“Come back tonight.”

It’s not a plea, not even a request. But there’s something in her tone that makes your chest tighten.

You nod, your voice steady. “I will.”

And with that, you step out into the cool morning air, leaving behind the warmth of her bed and the quiet understanding that, while nothing has been said out loud, everything has changed.

[vincentsleftear]

“it would be one hundred times easier…if we were young again.”

a rhaenicent inspired playlist; their story told in order <3

[aiizaph]

I always think I have my anxiety under control. That I’ve learned how to cope with it.

No I haven’t 🙃

[zumicho]

CHARM MENTIONED 🗣️🗣️‼️ CLAIRO MENTIONED 📣‼️‼️‼️

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 (𝐯𝐚𝐫. 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

✹ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: drabbles of various hq characters as songs from charm by clairo

✹ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff!!

✹ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: atsumu miya, osamu miya, rintaro suna, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi & keiji akaashi

✹ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: (under 16 dni) established relationship (all except suna’s), mentions of insecurity in osamu’s, smoking & drinking in akaashi’s, oikawa and iwaizumi’s may be slightly suggestive at some points but it’s a reach

✹ 𝗮/𝗻: if you’re like wow that lineup is so random it’s because these are all my most prized boyfriends i hope you can understand thanks. also been obsessed w charm lately erghghhh listening to the entire album is a part of my daily routine now!! songs are linked to the titles if u wanna give a listen while reading :) i highly recommend listening to the album if u haven’t already!! srry for any typos i missed!

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

“and once you get in my ear, i see kismet sinking in, it’s second nature”

after all this time, you suppose that loving atsumu isn’t as complex as it seemed like it was before. you love him in the same fashion in which you breathe or blink, you’d forgotten how to function without it, it’s second nature. likewise, atsumu finds loving you to be the easiest thing in the world.

he knows you too well, it makes your heart flutter every time he does something, no matter how many times he’s done it before. every morning, you slip out of bed to find that your slippers are already waiting for you on the chilly wood of your bedroom floor, placed perfectly where your feet land when you roll out of bed. you’d almost forgotten it was sunday, and you would have had you not heard the sound of your husband in the kitchen doing a horrible job at being quiet.

you can picture it before you even see it, atsumu hunched over a skillet with sizzling bacon popping quietly to fill the early morning silence of your apartment. atsumu can never sleep in anymore, eternally used to the long hours he spends as an athlete, so he’s since taken it upon himself to try to be productive before you wake.

“mornin’” his voice is still raspy and warm, the afterthought of sleep apparent on his softened expression that he holds when looking at you. atsumu chuckles quietly under his breath when you press your face between his shoulder blades, snaking your arms around his waist. he still smells like the floral detergent of your bedsheets and the buttery sandalwood of his body wash.

“you’re burning the bacon, already.” you snicker into his shirt, earning a click of his tongue, “don’t ya’ like it crispy?” he counters playfully, using a fork to turn over one of the bubbling strips.

“yeah, i do, but,” you peak from around his back, pointing at the darkened bacon in the pan, “those are totally charred.”

atsumu scoffs teasingly, peering down at you, “they are not.” they really are about to be unsalvageable. you laugh dryly under your breath, using your hip to bump him out of the way of the stove, taking the bacon off the heat. atsumu puts up no fight, leaning on the counter to watch you grab a plate, eyes filled with a mushy lovesick glow. you should be used to this kind of unadulterated display of adoration, but it still makes your cheeks heat up like it did when you were in high school.

“i missed ya’,” he whispers softly, just loud enough for you to hear. you glance over your shoulder at him, smirking in confusion, “i didn’t go anywhere, did i?”

atsumu simply offers a content laugh, grabbing a piece of bacon from the plate, “i meant i missed ya while you were asleep.” he rolls his eyes as if it’s the most logical thing to assume in the world. you snort playfully, “weren’t you only awake for, like, 10 minutes before me?”

taking a (rather difficult) bite from the piece bacon, he nods, “exactly.”

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞

“sexy to someone is all i really want.”

osamu peered into your hotel bathroom upon smelling the scent of your perfume, a usual indication he has since learned that meant you were nearly done getting ready. an expression of confusion contorts his face into a frown at the sight of your own unhappy grimace.

“what’s wrong?” he inquires softly, watching your eyes through your reflection in the mirror. you groan in bemusement, setting the perfume bottle down, “nothing’s cooperating with me today, look,” you ruffle your hair a bit, trying to place it the way in which it usually sits on your head.

apart from your hair, you feel like you might have rushed too much on your makeup, and when you look in the mirror, maybe your dress doesn’t go as well with your shoes as you thought it did when packing.

you and osamu were in tokyo tonight, getting ready to go down for a celebratory dinner for the grand opening of the new branch of onigiri miya. while the thought of seeing all of your friends in one place was exciting, your hasty attempt to get ready in time was beginning to dampen your mood.

“what are ya talkin’ about, darlin’?” osamu knit his brows, genuinely baffled by what you could be implying as he leans against the doorframe. you blow out a short breath of frustration, gesturing at the mirror, “i feel like i look like a mess.”

osamu’s lips part in disbelief, the corners twitching in annoyance, “are ya kiddin’?” he scoffs, leaning forward to place a big hand on your arm. you turn away from your reflection, looking up at him, surprised to see such a perplexed expression upon his face.

“yer ridiculous, ya know that?” he scoffs, already pulling you out of the bathroom, “i’m serious.” you whine in frustration with yourself, begrudgingly following him towards the door. osamu lets go of the soft hold he has on your arm, turning to face you; he bends over to level with you, shaking his head, “yer the most beautiful person i have ever seen in my life, ya know that?”

you go quiet, crossing your arms as he stands back up to open the door for you. osamu glances over his shoulder, a wry grin occupying his lips now as he shakes his head once more, “i seriously can’t believe ya, sometimes.”

you knew osamu better than to think there was any actual malice hidden behind his frustration with you. leave it to him to fix the unfixable. as you walk down the hotel hallway, the way he drapes an arm around your shoulder suddenly makes you consider that he might be right. the admiration in his eyes as he looks at you makes you feel like maybe you are the most beautiful person in the world.

𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 ✶ 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

“when i drive, i always check over the seat, i could see you right there, waiting for me”

it was much too late for this type of situation to be launched at you so suddenly, you knew that, but you still chose to unlock the door when you saw suna through your peephole.

you could tell he was drunk, his cheeks were bright red, hair mussed and eyes lidded with exhaustion. “what are you-” you hiss under your breath as he makes his effort to push into your apartment, experiencing no resistance from you as you let him stumble in. suna turns to face you upon hearing the door click shut, a lazy grin gracing his face.

“hi,” he snickers, readjusting his unstable stance. “hey.” you return, crossing your arms, “you know it’s late, right?” the clock on your phone reads 1:30, exactly two hours past when you should have been asleep. “i knooow.” he muses, walking over to collapse on your couch.

“are you just gonna sleep here?” you scoff incredulously, watching him roll over to look at you, grinning contentedly. “nah, came here to say something.” suna rasps, patting the cushion of the couch beside his head as if he owns the place.

against your better judgement, you choose to oblige, sitting down with a sigh as he makes an effort to sit up hunched beside you. “you know i’m not an idiot, right?” he starts, an unusual mixture of honesty and playfulness in his drunken tone. you crease your brows in confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“i know,” he nods, leaning back onto the couch, “i know what we’ve been doing this whole time.” you feel your heart begin to race, he can’t possibly be hinting at that, can he?

all the playful flirting, the lingering touches and longing glances around friends. they were meant to never be discussed, a secret so forbidden that even the two who kept it mustn’t acknowledge it. the practically invisible elephant in the room. suna was about to mess it all up, and you weren’t sure if your heart beat ten times faster with fear or excitement.

“what?” your mouth has long gone dry, words unsaid all dying on your tongue before they can even flow out to defend yourself. “i’m tired of it.” suna mumbles out, closing his eyes, then cracking one open to look at you, “aren’t you?”

he doesn’t wait for your response, though there wasn’t enough room for thought in your mind to formulate one, anyways. “i used to think i could ignore it, but i never realized how much i think about it until recently,” suna swallows, then turns to face you, head lolling against the couch, “am i wrong? it’s been like this the whole time, hasn’t it?”

you frown, “what do you mean?”

“you’ve liked me this whole time, haven’t you?” suna whispers, the tenderness of vulnerability making him sound so quiet, “because all i do is think about what things would be like if we stopped pretending like nothing was happening.”

there he goes, spoiling the quiet little mutual crush you two shared. something that started small enough not to notice, but grew until it boiled over, and one of you were bound to crack. it was suna who cracked first, albeit drunk, but you knew in the hushed whisper of his confession, that he meant every word of it.

“i-…” your words are lost to you, anything you thought to say no longer exists. suna reaches up a calloused hand, sloppily brushing a piece of hair from your face, “m’ really tired of missing you when you’re not around…wan’ you ‘round…all the time.” he’s beginning to slur his words, and you realize how drunk he actually is, his breaths slowing with the tightening grips of sleep.

as suna’s eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but wish he doesn’t forget about this when morning seeps in through your living room windows and wakes him up from a long, drunken slumber.

𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ✶ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚

“(you make me wanna) buy a new dress, (you make me wanna) slip off a new dress”

you can’t believe how different life feels when you completely give in to love. how have you gone so long without the addictive sensation of loving and being loved? with a tooru around, the blandest situation becomes technicolor; the chirping of birds by your window in the morning is no longer annoying, the coffee shop seems to always make your order right, and you look prettier in the mirror than you ever have before.

tonight the moon did not bring the chill of seaside winds with her, instead, the warm kiss of a summer’s breeze drifted through the air. you and tooru had long forgotten about your walk back to the car after dinner and had ended up at the pier, salty sea air dancing through locks of hair and playing with the hem of the dress you’d bought specifically for this date.

a warm pair of hands come from behind you, fitting snug against your hips as oikawa tucks his chin into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “have i mentioned you look beautiful tonight?” he murmurs. before, you would’ve been so embarrassed at how easily he could make you blush, but now it doesn’t matter.

“i think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.” you hum in response, leaning into his touch. oikawa snickers, watching waves lap against each other in a foamy dance. “could i mention it again?” he returns slyly and you giggle, “i’ll allow it.”

tooru leans forward, whispering into the shell of your ear, “you look beautiful tonight.” he seems all too pleased at the way your cheeks burn red, how easily you could be flustered if you let yourself be.

“how’d i get so lucky, hm?” he adds, nosing into your cheek, following the soft touch with a peppering of kisses along the side of your face. “tooru,” you whisper, voice shaky with the aftertaste of laughter, “hm?” he purrs into your skin.

you bring up a hand to place on the other side of his face, situating your head to return a chaste kiss to his cheek, “let’s head home, yeah?”

oikawa stands up straight again, brushing his fingers over to spot you’d kissed you suddenly. while he prides himself on his ability to make you flustered, sometimes he conveniently ignores the fact that you’ve always had the exact same effect in tenfold.

“i think that’s a great idea.” he muses, slipping a hand from your waist to link fingers with your own as you walk back up the pier. in the midst of your lovesick chatter, he interrupts you, “hey, my love?”

“yeah?” you mutter lightly in response.

“i forgot what direction we parked the car in.”

𝐡𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮

“i really hate to admit it, i put my pride on the line, ‘cause when i met you, i knew it, i’d thank you for your time.”

being like this was never easy for hajime, which is why he chose against this for so long. it was a tiring six-month battle of hallway encounters and awkward elevator rides before he finally admitted to himself that he was head over heels for the girl across the hallway from him.

loneliness seems so distant now, and he’s long chased it away in return for your sleeping figure beside him. iwaizumi can’t imagine what his life would be like nowadays if his pillows didn’t smell like you or his shoes didn’t fit so perfectly next to yours at the end of the day.

he can’t find it in himself to sleep tonight, and neither can you, a short moment of surprise exchanged as you roll over to find he’s already looking down at you. after a blink or two, the both of you felt grins of amusement tugging on either corners of your lips. hajime pulls you closer, wrapping his big arms around your torso, thumbing the small of your back.

“you’re my favorite, you know that?” he mumbles into your hair with a certain waggishness to his words. you huff out a short laugh, “favorite what?”

“just in general.” he returns, moving back slightly to look down at you with big eyes full of fondness, “i like you a lot more than anything else.”

giggling, you bring a hand up to cup the side of his face, feeling the setting of his jaw under your palm at the touch, “you’re not so bad yourself, either.”

hajime scoffs in amusement, rolling his eyes, “oh, thanks.”

the dark bedroom is filled with the mirth of quiet laughter, a moment that seems to last forever, a feeling that you wish to keep in your pocket and carry around. there’s nothing extraordinarily funny happening, and perhaps you’re only laughing in disbelief of the fact that this is real

living with hajime is like moving in with your best friend, there’s nothing about plain existence that’s entertaining, but with him everything is funnier than it’s ever been. you two never get enough sleep because you’re always up for hours, savoring each word, touching each other’s skin, feeding off the thrill of breathing each other’s air like the opportunity is only for one night.

hajime is glad that you made him a weak man. there’s nothing more in the world he could have ever wanted than this, and he’d be thanking you for sharing your time until the day he died.

𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧

“simple thing, i don’t need much to like, i find.”

saturday nights were never spent like they used to be back in college. you suppose that’s a part of growing up, becoming boring. but despite how plain the pattern of you life has become since you’ve started working and settling down, you never once considered wanting anything more.

akaashi’s cramming days worth of work into one night, lips stained with red wine as he types with precision onto the clacking keyboard of his laptop. you’re on the other side of the couch, legs bent up to support your own laptop that you draft an email on. you let out a pained groan at a sudden ache that tears through your thigh, setting the laptop onto the coffee table to stretch out the tight muscle.

keiji pauses, looking up at you. his glasses were almost askew, sliding down his nose. a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, a collegiate habit that sometimes still haunts the both of you, especially on nights like these. “is your leg cramping?” he inquires, setting his laptop on the cushion beside him. you nod, kneading at the skin.

a soft breath of surprise sucks in through your lips when a pair dexterous hands replace your own, pushing between the muscles with precision. you look up to find akaashi’s focused expression, what was left of his cigarette burning out on the ashtray placed haphazardly on the couch’s arm.

sudden relief washes across your body as his index finger pushes into the right spot, a low sigh leaking from your lips. akaashi glances back up, a rare smirk making its appearance, “better?” you nod in response.

akaashi looks at his watch, then up at you, “it’s kinda late, huh?” he notes, leaning over to shut his laptop. “it was kinda late two hours ago, it’s really late now.” you return, stretching your sore back out. once again, akaashi’s hands return to your body, kneading at the tired muscles without a second thought.

a soft kiss is pressed to the tender back of your neck, it smells like red wine and cigarettes, you longed to turn around and taste his lips, but restrained yourself. “you tired?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“i just…i really need to finish this project by monday, i’m worried that-“ keiji silences you with another kiss, this time to your cheek, “you won’t get anything done if you’re tired, why don’t you work on it tomorrow?”

you think about arguing, but you ultimately know that he’s right. your shoulders relax and you let your body weight rest up against his chest, savoring the rise and fall of his ribs with every breath he takes.

tonight was simple, perhaps a bit stressful, but that was the typical night with keiji nowadays. you couldn’t ever find yourself growing restless with this, however, and moments like these made you feel like no matter how unremarkable nights like these are, you love them more than anything. you love keiji more than anything.

[quesocheeso]

(This one goes out to all the early morning/pre-sunrise people out there,,, I should be sleeping rn but here I am)

Someone made an ask about whether if all new parents would just pop up in meeting with their babies in slings and to that I said yes👍 but it doesn’t stop at the baby phase,, if it’s Wukong’s turn to watch Xiaotian then that kid is going everywhere that man goes lmao

(Was scrolling through the posts and I realized how I’ve only posted TWO shadowpeach kisses before and I’m like how??? My folder is filled with them lmaoo😭😭😭 they’re just too spoilery I guess😔)

Sunset Era - Toddler Era

[norrisainz33]

Miami Baby | MV33

☆ summary: actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush.

☆ pairing: max verstappen x famous!reader x grid!platonic

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

☆ requested: nope!!

☆ a/n: this was one of the first fics i ever started writing and just havent had the nerve to post it. this is my first time posting a written and smau fic so bear with me here 🥹

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has added to their story

[story 1: guess what i’m up to this week] [story 2: princess treatment fr 💅🏻]

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user2: MIAMI GRAND PRIX?!

user4: omg are you finally going to a grand prix!!!!???

yourbff: AND SHES DRIVING A FERRARI?!

ynuser: YES!! this is a dream come true

yourbff: i’m so happy for you y/n/n 🤍 FORZA FERRARI!!!!

ynuser: FORZA FERRARI

tomholland2013: Hope you have the best time in Miami!! Z says that you have to come with us to Silverstone tho

ynuser: thank you tommy!! count me in 🫶🏻

user3: MAMA Y MIAMI

user1: car or driver - level impossible

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liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, zendaya and 2,657,101 others

ynuser: hot new driver alert, watch out boys! Make sure to catch my hot lap with The Carlos Sainz and say hi if you see me this weekend in Miami 🫶🏻❤️🏎️

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user3: the way she was giggling like a little kid as carlos whipped the car around , oh i love her

user4: no bc she’s finally at a gp living her dreams

user6: she’s literally just another celebrity?

user5: user6 you don’t know the lore! she’s been an f1 fan since before she got famous and she’s been friends with rebecca and alex for quite a while

carlossainz55: had an absolute blast driving with you! looking forward to seeing you this weekend!

ynuser: likewise!!!

scuderiaferrari: bellissima! ready for an exciting weekend ❤️

iamrebeccad: hottest hot lap i’ve ever seen😍😍

maxverstappen1: hot lap with me next

charlesleclerc: since when do you do hot laps?

user8: AM I READING THIS RIGHT

user9: MAX!???????????

user10: i’m sorry is the max verstappen trying to flirt rn

charlesleclerc has posted a story

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ynuser: thank you charlie 🫶🏻

charlesleclerc: bien sûr y/n

user3: do you wanna be my chauffeur next?

maxverstappen1: charles you have got to introduce me to her

charleslerclerc: to who?

maxverstappen1: y/n

charlesleclerc: max are you ok?

maxverstappen1: what do you mean??? yes, i am ok??

charlesleclerc: i’m just shocked you willingly want to be introduced to someone??? let alone a celebrity?

maxverstappen1: charles 🙄

maxverstapppen1: she may or may not be my celebrity crush ok

charlesleclerc: ohhh mon ami you should have said that sooner

charlesleclerc: i’ll get alex and rebecca on the case 😉

maxverstappen1: oh god no charles i just meant an introduction i don’t need anyone on the case 😭

user12: 3 pretty best friends

user14: the little matching outfits?! im sick

ynuser has added to their story

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user15: you were made to wear ferrari merch

iamrebeccad: can’t wait to show you off to all the other boys 😍

ynuser: but you’re the only one i want 😫

iamrebeccad: i know darling but im not the only one who wants you 😉

ynuser: CRYPTIC what does that mean

alexandrasaintmleux: i’m so glad we finally got you to ferrari mon amour but we should definitely take a walk around the paddock!! you can meet some drivers that aren’t in red - maybe some blue

ynuser: i’ll go anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i think red bull blue would look better on you

ynuser: blue? perhaps!

user17: begging to know where you got that belt it’s so slay

user22: one of these drivers has got to wife you up you’d be the best wag

user18: can’t wait for all the pictures of you on the grid

ynuser has added to their story

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charlesleclerc: find max! he’ll help you get back to ferrari

user14: steal all their notes and bring it to ferrari so we can have a better car

landonorris: come to mclaren its way better here

ynuser: ok then come get me muppet i’m lost 😭

user87: steal one of the cars and give it to carlos!!!

user23: ms girl what are you doing there?? i thought you were supposed to be filming your new movie!

iamrebeccad: 🤭🤭🤭

ynuser: oh so you did this on purpose?

user55: project get ferrari a rocket ship is a go

~~

The pit lane was humming with activity as mechanics and team members alike continued with their duties after a productive qualifying session. You glanced around looking for your friends, alex and rebecca, who had convinced you to take this walk in the first place, but you couldn’t find them in the sea of red bull employees. Letting out a sigh you pulled out your phone hoping to see some sort of reply from either them but there was nothing.

"y/n?" a familiar voice questioned, startling you out of your thoughts. you were met with a confused looking max verstappen and you felt your cheeks heat. max was still in his white fireproofs with his suit pulled down around his waist and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look incredible. you may have accidentally admitted to alex that max was your crush on the grid and you had a sneaking suspicion thats why both her and rebecca magically disappeared leaving you here.

"yes! hi max!!" you said quickly, holding out your hand for him to shake. "it's a genuine honor to meet you!" max looked down at your outstretched hand and paused for a moment before taking it in his own.

his hand engulfed yours as a grin stretched across his face, "the honor is mine, y/n - i'm actually a pretty big fan of yours."

"you are?"

max chuckled, "yes? is that hard to believe?"

"no, no .. i just didn't think you'd know who i was! i mean - im just surprised is all," you said quickly, realizing you were stumbling over your words but max didn't seem to be phased.

"don't be surprised, you are quite talented," max took a sip from his red bull can and you watched as his eyes danced around the pit lane. "do you want an escort back to ferrari?"

"yes, please."

"great, come with me," max rested his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you through the red bull garage and back to the paddock. he made idle chit chat as you tried your very best to focus on anything other than the electricity you could feel from where his hand met the fabric of your dress.

"ahh there you are mon amor!" alex cooed as you and max approached the ferrari hospitality. rebecca looked between you and max with a knowing look on her face. you made a mental note to talk to them both later about how they couldn't just leave you places unattended even if it meant meeting max.

"well would you look at this," charles patted max on the back as he walked past taking his place next to alex. he had a devilish smirk plastered across his handsome features as his eyes travelled between the two of you.

"max was kind enough to help me navigate my way back here after alex and rebecca so sweetly ditched me in the pit lane."

"oh was he now? well then we must repay my dear friend! how about you come to the club with us after the race tomorrow max?" charles looked expectantly at his friend.

max let out a sigh, "i suppose i could be persuaded."

"thats the spirit!" charles clapped his hands together, "i'll text you the details mon ami."

a night club? in miami? with max verstappen? this ought to be interesting.

~~

ynuser has posted multiple stories

[story 1: race day let’s go] [story 2: im not crying!! YOU are] [story 3: idk if miami can handle us @.alexandrasaintmleux]

view all story replies

user16: you crying over lando winning his first race is so real

landonorris: i am crying u r right girl

ynuser: as long as ur not cryin in the club

landonorris: not yet !! but the night is young!!

user22: ok body is tea wtf

alexandrasaintmleux: you’re so beautiful i love you so much

ynuser: YOU are so beautiful. i love you more my girl

yourbff: why are you !! a ferrari!!! crying over a mclaren?!

ynuser: bc it’s lando and we love bob in this house

yourbff: ok yeah fine

user12: miami is NOT ready for your hotness that’s for sure

ianrebeccad: ok i need to borrow that outfit from you asap. also pls get to the club faster im stuck here without you both 🥹

ynuser: you’re the one who wanted to “get ready” with carlos and not us soooooo

user44: i’m foaming at the mouth

maxverstappen1: understandable to cry over me not winning

ynuser: i’m glad you get it 😫

user45: that’s not a face card, that’s a whole face economy

user33: who are these divas?

~~

max could feel the music pounding through his chest as his fellow club goers danced to the beat. feeling all sorts of nerves, he brought his gin and tonic to his lips and took a few big gulps hoping the liquid courage would hit him soon. his eyes couldn’t help but follow you as you swayed your entire body to the music without a care in the world. readjusting the hat on his head, he watched as your skirt inched lower on your hips and he could almost feel his mouth start to water.

“max just go and talk to her!” charles yelled over the music pulling max out of his thoughts.

“i can’t.”

“quoi? what do you mean you can’t?”

“she’s just… i just… i can’t!” max finished off his drink and set it down on the table in front of him. “i mean look at her,” max explains throwing his arms up in exasperation, “she’s so beautiful!! i’m not sure i’d even know what to say.”

“just ask her to dance or to get another drink!” charles looked over to you, alex and rebecca as you danced with carlos and lando.

“i can’t.”

“max - if you don’t i guarantee someone else is going to try and make a move on her.” charles was now staring max down with a scowl on his face, “and i know that would upset you more than just growing some balls and talking to her!”

max frowned, realizing his friend was right. “i’m just scared she won’t like me.”

“i have insider knowledge that says she fancies you.”

max’s eyes widened, “and you didn’t lead with that?”

“no because i wasn’t supposed to tell you!! now please for the love of god let’s go get her.”

max and charles navigated their way through the sea of bodies until they made it to your little group. you looked up at max with a bright smile and he felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify. before he lost all of his nerve, he blurted out “get a drink with me?”

you nodded, “i’d love to!” max smiled and grabbed your hand so that he wouldn’t lose you in the mass of people.

there was very little available space at the bar which left you leaning against the counter and max directly behind you leaning against you so that he could hear the bartender. not a single coherent thought was going through your head, all you could focus on was the way max’s body rested against yours, the warmth it offered you, the way he was resting his strong hands on either side of you and how if you turned you’d be face to face and able to kiss him right on—

max tapped on your shoulder pulling you out of your thoughts and earning a slight jump from you. “the bartender asked what you wanted to drink, y/n” max explained into your ear causing goosebumps to spread like wild fire across your skin.

the bartender was looking at you expectantly, “oh! i’ll take a gin and tonic please!!” you panic ordered not being able to come up with anything else on the spot. “so sorry,” you quickly added as the bartender turned to make your drink. mentally you scolded yourself for not being able to get it together but boy was keeping it together hard when the max verstappen was very much taking up your personal space.

after thanking the bartender for your drinks, max took a step back allowing you to turn and look at him. he was in a pair of his classic skinny jeans, a backwards black cap, a black tshirt that hugged his arms perfectly and he wore a soft smile as he looked down at you with his big blue eyes. “wanna dance?” you asked before taking a gulp of your drink.

max’s grin grew, “absolutely.” you decided not to give him any time to reconsider and instead grabbed his hand and drug him out to the dance floor. you could feel eyes on you both but you didn’t care. “i should likely preface this with the fact that i’m not much of a dancer,” max admitted sheepishly. he was taking note of how close you both were now. you had stopped rather abruptly in the middle of the dance floor leaving him so close to you that he could steal your breath if he really wanted and oh boy did he want to.

you laughed effortlessly, “everyone is a dancer if they try hard enough, max!" The DJ began playing a remix of one of your favorite songs and max watched intently as you began moving to the music. He threw back the remainder of his drink and made quick work of discarding it, feeling more courageous now.

you quickly noticed max was still very much standing completely still. “it’s all in the hips,” you cooed putting your free hand on his hips and pushing him so he would move. max obliged and began swinging his hips back and forth timidly, not having a ton of room to move out at the center of the dance floor. "atta boy!" you praised giving him a smirk.

max almost choked on air at that comment from you — what could he say? he was a sucker for praise and that comment gave him the confidence he needed to place both hands on your hips and pull you in so that your body fit snuggly against his own. max had a feeling that this was going to be a very good night.

~~

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6 and 26,264 others

f1gossip: last night max verstappen and actress y/n y/l/n were seen attending a party with many of the grid members. they seem to have gotten very cozy out on the dance floor sharing quite a few kisses. it’s also reported that the pair were seen leaving together at the end of the night.

view all 249 comments

user1: OMG WHAT MY WORLDS COLLIDING

user2: nah he looks so fine in that hat omg

user8: i knew him offering that hot lap had to mean something

user6: they’re both so hot i’m sure their night was … actually imma stop myself before i get banned

user3: this was orchestrated by alex and rebecca i just know it

user8: i could see charles and lando getting in on it too tbh

user4: jealousy doesn’t look pretty on me but dear lord am i jealous

user5: he may have bagged the baddest baddie alive.. how did he manage that in those skinny jeans

user4: listen those skinny jeans make his thighs look real biteable

user5: and you got me there

user9: need more max and y/n content asap

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[maxivstappen]

౨ৎ WHAT A COINCIDENCE ! ‧₊˚.

౨ৎ part of my short n’ sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

smau — angst & sweet revenge

pairing — charles leclerc x reader / lando norris x reader ( fc: sabrina carpenter )

summary — charles has a habit of running back to you whenever things don’t work out between him and alex, but how long will you be willing to keep up with his shit?

warnings / disclaimer — none, just some swearing!

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

23rd August 2023 - TWITTER

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31st August 2023 - TEXTS and TWITTER

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

4th Feburary 2024 - TEXTS

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

5th Feburary 2024 - TWITTER and TEXTS

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6th February 2024 - @.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA!

liked by landonorris, sadiesink_ and 2,965,201 others

yourusername the only thing that surprised me yesterday was, in fact, the cake ✨ wouldn’t have wanted to spend it any other way — thank you for all your birthday wishes <3

view all 87,082 comments

landonorris ✓ pretty girl

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

carlossainz55 ✓ @.landonorris omg🥹 you’re growing up lando

user3 @.carlossainz55 NOT HIM SIDING WITH LANDO THIS IS SO MESSY

user1 i cannot handle everything that’s happened yesterday and today

user2 @.user1 what’s going on?

user3 @.user2 charles and his ex got together again right on y/n‘s birthday and she’s very obviously throwing shade in her caption (saying she’s not surprised because alex and charles are always on&off) + lando just called her pretty girl???

user2 @.user3 omg queen, lando should make a move

milliebobbybrown ✓ happy birthday bb

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user4 @.milliebobbybrown eleven what are you doing here

user7 ICONIC ICON

user5 oscar and lily were there, carlos, lando, george and max were there, where the hell was charles??? he didn’t even like the post

user6 @.user5 he’s with alex again :(

user5 @.user6 WHAT

user6 @.user5 yes even worse, he left the morning of her bday to fly out to alex

user7 @.user6 nobody confirmed it stop talking shit

user8 @.user7 charles was seen at an airport just that morning + it wouldn’t be out of character for him, he’s always been like this + he wasn’t at her bday party but they were still seen together one day before + half of the grid was there but he wasn’t

user8 the caption is so ironic 😭😭

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

23rd August 2024 - @.landonorris ✓ just posted a story on INSTA! (playing: coincidence by y/n l/n)

@.yourusername replied : i love you more lan🥹

@.danielricciardo replied : i thought your obsession would stop now that you’re together but these past months have all proven me very wrong😔

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

TWITTER

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

@.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA!

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 5,669,069 others

yourusername what a coincidence! I’ve got a few surprises for you! first of all, my new single “coincidence” is out now! second, music video for said song is coming tomorrow ANNNNNNDDDD surprise surprise surprise!!! MY NEW ALBUM “Short n’ Sweet” COMING OUT NOVEMBER 13TH <333

view all 128,696 comments

user1 ALBUM OF THE YEAR ALBUM OF THE YEAR ALBUM OF THE YEAR

user2 i want her so bad

user3 @.user2 same

user4 IS THAT LANDO’S HEAD ON THE FOURTH SLIDE

user5 @.user4 IT IS

user6 @.user4 HE’LL BE IN HER MV I THINK

user7 @.user6 OH MY GOD

user8 i want both her and lando

user9 lmao charles in the likes👀👀

user10 probably wants her back

landonorris ✓ 🤭🤭

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user11 @.landonorris @.charles_leclerc omg look charles!😧 it’s not that hard to interact with and post your girlfriend !!!

user12 @.landonorris PLEASE GET MARRIED HAVE KIDS PLEASE

user13 im gonna stream this til my neighbours know the lyrics by heart

oscarpiastri ✓ lando won’t shut up about you

carlossainz55 ✓ @.oscarpiastri he never will

user14 i love how they’re all friends with y/n🥹🥹

user15 oscar and carlos interaction in y/n’s comment section might be my favourite thing ever

user16 please more charles hate songs 👍

mclaren ✓ streaming rn as we speak

user17 THE ALBUM’S COMING OUT ON LANDO’S BIRTHDAY🥹🥹🥹

。　　　　✧　　　　⁺　 　 　。

general taglist :: @norrisdriver

first smau ever !! probs not the best but i hope you like it anyway :)

[edwardslvrr]

ADOPTION AND LEGOS 𐙚 oscar piastri

౨ৎ oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

the one where oscar is dating the ferrari driver's younger sister and they have been soft launching for a while until they decide to hard launch when the adoption joke enters f1

taglist if you'd like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment хохо

main masterlist 𐙚 oscar masterlist

౨ৎ yourinstagram paris, france

liked by arthur_leclerc and 308.893 others

yourinstagram lovely day out in my favourite city with my favourite person 💘💐

view all 1.893 comments

username everyday i sigh when i see this is not a hard launch

username just so y’all know when she hard launches i’ve been here since the beginning

username atp never expecting her to hard launch

username don’t you dare manifest that!

yourbestfriend hey dan, i mean bonjour!

yourinstagram you mean au revoir. goodbye humphrey we’re leaving!

username when he takes you to paris >

username hope dude knows he’s the luckiest man ever living

username wish this was my life fr

౨ৎ oscarpiastri twitter

౨ৎ messages oscar/yn

౨ৎ f1 no location

liked by formula2 and 1.482.891 others

f1 A suprise at the top in first practice! 🇲🇨

view all 6.183 comments

oscarpiastri that happened quickly, charles_leclerc

username i just wanna know if you’ve met your brother leo

username u gotta change your name now, what’s done is done

username help the leclerc name on oscar 😭

username “piastri-leclerc” adoption rumours confirmed!!

username this is too funny

username “f1 is a serious sport” than what’s this?

username they’re the definition of unserious

username dude really got adopted

౨ৎ oscarbbg twitter

౨ৎ oscarpiastri monte-carlo, monaco

liked by yourinstagram and 838.793 others

oscarpiastri P2, adoption and legos. I’s say this was a pretty good weekend

view all 4.189 comments

username leclerc 1-2

username still wondering who man’s gf is

username huge day for the leclerc family

username homerace podium 🇲🇨

username oscar jack piastri-leclerc has arrived

౨ৎ oscahnorris twitter

౨ৎ messages charles/yn

౨ৎ yourinstagram no location

liked by oscarpiastri and 398.893 others

yourinstagram just so yk he’s been a leclerc now for 3 years

view all 2.891 comments

username omg- no this is crazy what

landonorris oscyn hard launch before gta6🙏

yourinstagram as we should

username TWO years???

username should’ve known during the prema interview w arthur & oscar ohmygod “who in the room would you kiss” MF WAS SMIRKING😭

username omg yes i forgot abt that!!

arthur_leclerc i’m just great at secret keeping ;)

username arthur whattt

username she’s defo been stressing after the adoption thing😭

username my parents

username I SAID IT AND NO ONE BELIEVED ME

oscarpiastri 3 years down and forever to go😍

landonorris what a simp

yourinstagram landonorris ur just lonely oscarpiastri ily!!

charles_leclerc since when is he lightning mcqueen???

yourinstagram 🙄🙄

౨ৎ oscarpiastri no location

liked by charles_leclerc and 972.781 others

oscarpiastri 3 years of lego dates with you ❤️

view all 4.792 comments

username the hard launch we all have been waiting for

yourinstagram another lego date tonight?

oscarpiastri on my way home immediately

username you two are adorable oml

username this might’ve just been the news of the century

charles_leclerc does that mean i have to officially rip the adoption papers

oscarpiastri yeah sorry mate, it was nice while it lasted

taglist - @louvrepool @italyrryx @buendiabebeta @lightdragonrayne @namgification @sammyam @americanbluebirdrb @poppyflower-22 @c-losur3 @nxrrislando @haikyuen @evie-119 @raevyng @urfavsgf @nikfigueiredo

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Paddock Princess

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: jude bellingham x fem!black!f1driver!reader

♥ synopsis: your boyfriend jude bellingham is welcomed with open arms by the f1 community and becomes the people’s paddock’s princess

♥ smau - fc: tyla - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and suggestive comments !!!

♥ a/n: never let em know your next move WAPOW jude fic.

-Jude Bellingham Replies to Fans on the Internet | Actually Me | GQ Sports-

“We know about your inspiration in football, but which athletes outside of football do you look up to—if any?” he read off a laptop screen.

“Uhm,” he scratched the bridge of his nose. “Probably Y/n L/n,” His face lit up with a smile as the camera crew giggled in the background. “She’s done quite a lot in her sport in such a short amount of time and I really admire her driving style, if i’m being honest. Yeah, I’ve been spending a lot of my time watching F1 recently, so probably her.”

He sent the reply and leaned back on the chair, “This is peak journalism.”

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmundt, judebellingham, and 1,494,027 more

yourusername i heard someone say my name?

view comments

realmadrid you heard correctly

user1 exposing him 🙊

user2 @/user1 I'm sure she's seen the video by now

user3 I wish he said my name instead tbh

user4 I wish he would do more than just say my name

user5 @/user4 SO REAL

user6 the someone in question who said her name being the hottest madrid player

yourusername @/user6 that's debatable

judebellingham @/yourusername ???

user7 have you and jude met before? I know you spend a lot of time watching madrid 🤔

yourusername hopefully I'll see him soon !!

user10 @/yourusername that doesn't answer the question...

carlossainz55 @/yourusername I can take you to meet him under one condition

yourusername @/carlossainz55 I already told you I can't give you the Ferrari seat back 😭

carlossainz55 it was worth a shot

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, judebellingham, and 1,409,582 more

yourusername first race with you 💋

view comments

scuderiaferrari we're happy to have you ❤️

user7 @/scuderiaferrari did... you buy her those flowers? 😭

user2 @/scuderiaferrari she wasn't talking to you lil bro

user1 I thought she was talking about a secret partner in this post but maybe I'm crazy

user3 @/user1 now I'm confused because I thought the same thing

user5 f1 core is not knowing if y/n made a romantic post about ferrari or a secret lover

scuderiaferrari who's not in love with us? we're hot, fast, and Italian 😉

yourusername @/scuderiaferrari OH 🫣

user6 😨

user8 RAW NEXT QUESTION

user9 why am I blushing

user10 we're not beating the car fucker allegations with this one 🔥🔥🥶

user11 ugh I hate admin. its like why do you post silly comments? what's your @? are you single?

-jude bellingham’s story-

view replies

user1 those flowers look familiar…

user2 ME WHEN

user3 i actually need him so bad

user4 @/yourusername

user5 yn we all know it’s you

liked by judebellingham, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 2,059,043 more

yourusername I regret to inform you that I am not dating ferrari admin and instead with the lovely @/judebellingham

view comments

judebellingham "regret"? 🤨

yourusername I called you lovely what more do you want

landonorris we all knew you were dating the second he said your name

user1 new lando lore drop he watches jude bellingham videos by himself

landonorris fuck I've been caught

user2 LETS FUCKING GO HARD LAUNCH

user3 oh how I love them

user4 they are the perfect couple

scuderiaferrari I forgive you

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 1,492,5028 more

judebellingham dw princess has arrived

view comments

yourusername glad you're here 😘

♡ by judebellingham

user1 yes he has 👏

user2 he's so cunty

user5 he wears her jersey hello?? 🥹

yourusername one that still has the tag on it...

judebellingham @/yourusername you didn't see that 😬

user8 wheres the rest of the madrid team?

judebellingham 🤷‍♂️

vinjir @/user8 he didn't invite us

judebellingham @/vinjir wowww snitch 🫵

liked by erling, judbellingham, landonorris, and 502,684 more

yourusername its always great to meet a fan 🫶

view comments

judebellingham I don't really consider myself a "fan" 🫤

yourusername idk you seemed like a pretty big fan of me last night 🫤

user1 oh!

user9 judeyn >>>

user10 god bless these two and all the pr training they ignored

user7 hes so fjdsjkskfj

user6 I need him so bad

yourusername @/user6 same

user8 I'm gonna need full time wag jude from now on

judebellingham quitting my job rn 🏃‍♂️💨

[sunrizef1]

Distracted

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: None

Authors Note: This is short but I feel like my ear is being ripped out from the inside so I am not well. Also, my brain is consumed by glorious thorn so I have been distracted :)

Requested: Yes/No/Vaguely

——

ynln

liked by user1 landonorris and 3,088,776 others

ynln sunkissed ☀️💋

load comments….

user1 I’m in love with her

user2 pretty pretty girl

user3 I’m OBSESSED

user4 the lighting in that third picture is enough to make me cry 🥲

user5 I need that dress

landonorris I hope vacations treating you well

ynln treating me better than you do, that’s for sure

landonorris stop the violence 🫷😞🫸

user6 Lando Norris they could never make me hate you

user7 literally y/n’s brother, you can not make me dislike that man

user8 an angel 😻

user9 this is how I think I look when I pose for pictures but I actually look like grimace

user10 liked by Joe burrow omg hey diva

——

lewishamilton

liked by landonorris carlossainz55 and 6,077,898 others

lewishamilton the grind doesn’t stop for summer 💪☀️

load comments…

user11 he would be the on to say the grind doesn’t stop wouldn’t he…

user12 oh lawd im bout to-

user13 I’m choosing to have decorum, as should the rest of you

user14 I am feral

user15 the face of a man who’s gonna win his 8th championship at Ferrari

user16 is pull up bars the only exercise he knows or…

user17 sir Lewis

user18 just remember that this man also runs an account where he pretends to be his dog

landonorris I’m on vacation but u do u bro

lewishamilton there’s levels to this 🙏

user19 ik this isn’t a diss but knowing how many drivers are currently on vacation makes this so funny to me

user20 I’m a big personal fan of the George Russell-esque shirtless post we got going on here

——

ynln

liked by landonorris carlossainz55 and 4,098,765 others

ynln yall know this guy? I think he won a race or something, idk.

load comments…

user21 I’ve never seen that man before in my life

user22 I def don’t know him

landonorris using the word yall should immediately invalidate your opinion

ynln using the term “papaya rules” should immediately invalidate any of your point finishes

landonorris I’m sensitive about that 😞

user23 pic 3 scares me

user24 the way he’s gripping the seat makes me feel like I’m being kidnapped

user25 who’s diva is this

user26 my Dutch gp winner is who that is

user27 bullying is a vital part to fostering any brother-sister relationship

user28 love the fact that they’re not even related and Lando just chooses to spend his time with someone who bullies him

ynln everyone bullies him, he couldn’t avoid it if he tried

user29 why is no one commenting on the fact that this is y/n’s first f1 appearance ever????

user30 okay diva

——

ynln

liked by landonorris lewishamilton and 4,566,871 others

ynln don’t get distracted 😘🙏

load comments…

user31 mission: failed

user32 I’m looking respectfully

user33 need dress details 🥴

ynln oh Polly!

user34 Lando in the likes… who’s surprised

user35 my diva

user36 😻😻😻

user37 I am amazed

user38 now why did Lewis like

user39 does Lando know

user40 PRETTYYYYY 😍

landonorris hey queen!

ynln hey girl!

——

lewishamilton

liked by landonorris ynln and 3,887,123 others

lewishamilton staying focused ✌️

load comments…

user41 HEY LEWWWWWWW

user42 my diva queen Lewis Hamilton

user43 jumpscare shirtless pic

user44 George Russel core

user45 that caption is so yn vibe…..

landonorris #noticing

lewishamilton 🤫

user46 I see a correlation

user47 what is Mercedes gonna do when they only have one driver that post thirst traps

ynln are you sure about that….? 🤭

liked by lewishamilton

lewishamilton 😅

user48 oh so they’re in love… ik what this is

user49 diva as long as ur winning idc

user50 I have never loved someone so much 😭

——

ynln added to their story

user51

YOURE BACKKKKKKK

——

user52

❤️❤️❤️❤️

——

user53

My fav McLaren fan

——

landonorris

Ur not in the McLaren garage…

ynln

Oopsies ☺️

landonorris

I hope ur boyfriend is worth betraying ur brother

ynln

You’re so dramatic

——

TWITTER

——

ynln

liked by lewishamilton landonorris and 4,987,097 others

ynln my man 🤞

load comments…

user54 sleeping on the road tonight

user55 what is this soft launch nonsense, y’all kissed on live television

user56 fake news, this isn’t me

user57 I’m so tired

landonorris gross, disgusting, horrible

ynln 🫶

user58 my divas

user59 they’re so cutsie pie

user60 new wag just dropped

user61 IM IN LOVE WITH THEMMMM 😭🤞

user62 I think he got distracted…

carlossainz55 congrats 🎉

liked by ynln

user63 I need to be sedated

user64 MY BABIESSSSSS

lewishamilton ❤️

ynln ❤️

——

Tag list

@casperlikej @evie-119

I can’t find the rest of my taglist 🧍‍♀️

[povlnfour]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ EVERYBODY TALKS (LN4)

pairing: lando norris x f!reader

summary: lando eventually lands the girl of his dreams. he also finds out just how fast news travels

a/n: this was one of my wips i posted foREVER ago so enjoy the full one shot whilst i finish off some written stuff. based on everybody talks by neon trees🙇‍♀️🤍

*faceclaim (but imagine as you see her fit) is millie hannah

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by alex_albon, danielricciardo and 451,608 others

landonorris boo’s birthday

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alex_albon here’s a thought stop calling her your boo and actually make her your boo

this comment has been hidden by the original poster

user did anyone else see that comment or am i making things up

user bro just ask her out i swear to god

user last photo is feeling very intimate mr. norris

alex_albon happy birthday y/n/n, please don’t get me super drunk tomorrow

user i saw that last comment mr ur not slick

yourusername no promises albono i intend to do a lot of shots

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell and 47,009 others

yourusername y/n’s big birthday bash🪩

👤 tagged landonorris, friend1 and 6 others

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landonorris did u run to the bathrooms just to post on instagram

yourusername stfu and order me shots

user is anyone else now thinking about how often y/n probably sees lando shirtless👁️👄👁️

user i’ve been thinking about it since she first posted that photo of him in the gym showing his abs

user @/user TAG ME IN THAT WTF

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, alex_albon and 43,001 others

yourusername 💋

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user MA’AM YOU ARE UNBELIEVABLY ATTRACTIVE

lilymhe is that the lip combo i suggested because GIRL IT SUITS YOU

user lando MOVE i want her too

landonorris pretty

landonorris where are you off to?

yourusername meeting that friend i told you about on my bday!

y/n’s texts with lando ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just posted stories ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 45,610 others

yourusername race days

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maxverstappen1 you’re a jinx. never come again

maxverstappen1 (it was lovely to see you)

yourusername hope you enjoyed your time in the garage🥰🥰

user come to every race you’re good luck

user personally if my best friend was super hot and came to cheer me on looking that good i’d cuff her but maybe lando’s different

yourusername nah he’s just oblivious

landonorris @/yourusername HUH

yourusername @/landonorris i said what i said

tmz just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

texts between lando and friends ੈ✩‧₊˚

landonorris just tweeted ੈ✩‧₊˚

yourusername responded: yes, literally everyone.

landonorris just posted a photo ੈ✩‧₊˚

liked by yourusername, alex_albon and 500,018 others

landonorris lando: 1, friendzone: 0

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user FUCKIN FINALLY.

user @/yourusername i could treat you better

alex_albon you’re not really winning if you’ve been pining over her for two years mate

landonorris shut the fuck up before she sees this

yourusername @/landonorris TWO YEARS??? TWO YEARS AND YOU SAID NOTHING????

user uh oh. lando’s in trouble

————

a/n: this was… weak i apologise im still settling in😭 just wanted to put something out whilst i finish my charles/seb/lando written one shots eek!

as always any reblogs and whatnot appreciated. big love xx

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan @scopeiguess @amaranthineghost @gwginnyweasley @hetfieldd @sweetbabygirlsworld @wittywhispers @dark-night-sky-99 @namgification @casperlikej @marshmummy @geniusalpaca

[paddockletters]

drunken confession | charles leclerc smau

request: yes! | thank you so much and sorry took me so long pairing: charles leclerc x singer! reader summary: when Charles drunkenly posts instagram stories confessing his love for his secretly famous best friend after a podium celebration

Gossip 

Liked by carlossainz55 and 24,945 others 

Gossip: Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver, celebrating after his win in Las Vegas. 

view all the comments

Fan1: Charles is having the time of his life 

Fan2: I swear, I love seeing him enjoy himself, he totally deserved another win 🥺

Fan3: Hope his friends keep him safe so he doesn’t do something stupid 😭😭😭

Fan4: I get it, when you're drunk you don't know what you're doing 😂

charles_leclerc

Liked by yourusername and 3,863,927 others

charles_leclerc: Heyyy… do you guys knooow my friennnd? She’s likeee… my bestest friennnd, and I’ve loooved herrr for… what, likeeee, 3 yeaaars or somethin’? i'll marry her one dayyyy

View all the comments

Fan5: Charles… WHAT THE HELL??? Fan6: This man just confessed not only that he’s in love... BUT THAT HE’S IN LOVE WITH HIS FRIEND WHO, BY THE WAY, IS THE DAMN Y/N 😭😭😭 Fan7: Y/N and Charles??? Didn’t see that coming but I love it Fan8: Offended that no one knew they even knew each other Fan9: SOMEBODY TAKE CHARLES' PHONE AWAY FROM HIM, FOR GOD'S SAKE

landonorris: When did you posted this?

Fan10: Doesn’t matter, now the whole world knows about his love for Y/N Fan11: landonorris, did you know?

Fan12: yourusername LOOK AT THIS Fan13: yourusername WE DIDN’T KNOW ABOUT THIS SECRET Fan14: yourusername SOMETHING TO SAY???

arthur_leclerc: Bro… don’t forget to send this one to mom before you propose😂

Fan15: I didn't even know they were FRIENDS and now he’s out here planning weddings 😭😭

yourusername has posted a story

Time skip 2 year later

yourusername

Liked by charles_leclerc and 2,921,973 others

yourusername: Surprise! We’ve been keeping this one to ourselves for a while… 💍❤️ Love of my life—6 years of friendship, 3 years in love (we didn´t know), and 2 years married

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Fan9: My whole life feels like a lie 😭😭😭

pierregasly: About time, mate. Knew you’d slip up 😉

carlossainz55: Charles with the accidental announcement 😂

max33verstappen: I knew it! You couldn’t keep it quiet forever. #GridMom

landonorris: Congrats to the grid mum and dad 👀

carmenmound: I’m dying… he really couldn’t wait another week for a proper announcement?

charles_leclerc: Je t’aime, ma reine ❤️

[checkeredflagggs]

Subject of Interest

pairing: carlos sainz x fem!photographer!reader

summary: fans love carlos’ girlfriend and her unhinged comments and photography hobby

a/n: needed a slight break from the lando fic and I love doing these small photography based smaus. I will probably be doing these for more drivers — feel free to request someone you’d like to see!

a/n 2: fyi this is all google translate Spanish 🤷‍♀️

a/n 3: I tried to write horny for the first time and I think? It went? Ok?

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 1,231,445 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: mi amor, ¿sabes lo que me vas a hacer? Either put that thing away or put it to use. (My love, do you know what you're going to do to me?)

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user1: ahhhh love to see the princess back in action

↳user2: girl we missed you and your unhinged comments

landonorris: thERE ARE CHILDREN PRESENT

↳princesa: then leave? I know you have enough of a brain in that empty head of yours to do that

↳landonorris: I just wanted to congratulate my friend!! Why are you so mean?!?

↳princesa: niño…(Boy)

↳landonorris: nope! Lando!

↳oscarpiastri: seriously?

↳princesa: I’m glad he’s your teammate now

↳oscarpiastri: thanks 😑

↳landonorris: hey!

carlossainz55: Of course princesa…On an unrelated note, where are you again?

↳landonorris: not you too!

↳princesa: 🚪 here’s the door! Use it

↳landonorris: I’m gonna report you for bullying

↳princesa: try it twig!

carlossainz55: Hermosa…you tell me to behave but post that picture?

↳princesa: 🤭🤭

↳carlossainz55: 🥵

↳princesa: I’ve got the car waiting for you

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user3: girl I’m begging you for just one chance

↳carlossainz55: No

↳user4: when you pull up for a competition to worship the princess and your competition is Carlos Sainz

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 1,975,245 others

tagged: carlossaiz55

princesa: 🏎️ 💨💨 vroom vroom — the cars may go fast but I’d like to take my time with you baby

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user5: congrats on the podium Carlos!!

user6: did she just…

↳user7: imply they fuck? Yes.

↳princesa: 😉

↳user7: girl Ferrari is gonna put you in pr jail

↳princesa: 🤷‍♀️ I look good in handcuffs

↳carlossainz55: 👀👀

↳princesa:😘💋❤️

landonorris: just once I’d like to open instagram and not be assaulted with you and your gross relationship 😠🤮

↳princesa: boo hoo does A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP scare you

↳landonorris: NO

↳carlossainz55: Oh?

↳landonorris: it’s your horny ass comments! Leave it at home!

↳princesa: it’s ok Lando — someday you’ll have a girlfriend

↳landonorris: ive haD GIRLDFRIENDS BEFORE

↳princesa: you’re behavior says otherwise tbh

↳landonorris: STOP LYING TO THE INTERNET

user8: did you guys go on a bike ride?

↳princesa: Carlos did! I was sitting pretty in the basket while he showed me around town before taking us to the beach, letting my man treat me right.

↳carlossainz55: As you should princesa, never lift a finger when I’m around

↳user8: wow that’s so cute and so sappy

↳user9: this comment thread called me single in every language

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,790,469 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: thank you baby for the amazing break. I’m glad I got to spend some alone time with my handsome man. Next week it’s back to the grind — I just know you’ll be on top 🏆🏆

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carlossainz55: Princesa, I’d take you to the ends of the world if you’d ask

↳user10: same! 😭

↳carlossainz55: Not this princesa

↳princesa: I’d follow you anywhere you wanna take me handsome

carlossainz55: And you know I look good on top

↳princesa: i don’t know…wanna refresh my memory?

↳carlossainz55: I do need to get my cardio in today…

↳princesa: well let’s see how fast you are then…I’m waiting 😉

↳user11: YOU ARE IN PUBLIC

user12: I gotta say it…I’ve missed these horny comments. Insta just isn’t the same without them

↳user13: heeeeyyyy 🍑🍑🍆🍆💦💦

↳user12: eww no

charles_leclerc: Forza Ferrari Sempre!! Second half of the season will be ours!

↳carlossainz55: You know it!

↳princesa: Go Ferrari!

user14: no disgusted lando comments? What’s happening?

↳princesa: i blocked him for this post 😊

↳user14: 🤣🤣

princesa

liked by carlossainz55, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 2,982,122 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: Ferrari might be all red but baby, blue is your color — I believe a congratulations is in order Mr Race Winner

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user15: what a race…a Ferrari, McLaren, Williams podium was not on my bingo card for the year…

user16: petition for Ferrari to officially change its color to blue

↳user17: girl like 10 different drivers dnfed

↳user16: but Carlos won!

carlossainz55: Thank you mi amor ❤️

↳princesa: No tengo las palabras para describir lo orgulloso que estoy de ti! (I don't have the words to describe how proud I am of you!)

↳carlossainz55: Conozco mi amor y eso está bien. (I know my love and that's fine.)

↳princesa: I do know how I’m gonna congratulate you tho!

↳carlossainz55: 😳😳

carlossainz55: Are you going to be my prize, mi amor?

↳princesa: oh baby you know it!

↳princesa: just wait and see what I’ve got planned for you

↳carlossainz55: 🥵🥵

↳landonorris: 🤮🤮

↳landonorris: why? Must I? Suffer?

↳princesa: i should have kept you blocked

↳landonorris: i just wanted to congratulate my friend?

↳princesa: do it on your own post and let me be horny for my man in peace

↳landonorris: you’re uninvited to my party tonight?

↳princesa: for what? You dnfed like first

↳landonorris: 👎🏻👎🏻👎🏻

alex_albon: congrats man! It was great to be able to share a podium with you!

↳carlossainz55: Felicitaciones a ti también (Congratulations to you too)

↳carlossainz55: it was good to see you on the podium as well

oscarpiastri: great race!

↳carlossainz55: You as well!

princesa

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and 2,556,223 others

tagged: carlossainz55

princesa: Winning looks good on you baby. You should do it more often 🏆

In all seriousness, congratulations on your season Carlos — you did fantastic this year and it was such a pleasure to travel with you and watch you live your dreams.

That said — I’m very excited for the couple of months we will have to ourselves 😘💋❤️

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carlossainz55: Princesa…I loved every second of this year, racing and traveling with you. Thank you for agreeing to my crazy idea and following me around the world.

↳princesa: oh my love…No había ningún otro lugar en el que preferiría estar que a tu lado. (There was no other place where I would rather be than by your side)

↳carlossainz55: No podría haber pedido un mejor socio (I couldn't have asked for a better partner)

carlossainz55: All to ourselves huh? 🤔

↳princesa: i know! Whatever will we do with all that time? 🤭😉

↳carlossainz55: Oh I can think of a few things 😏

↳landonorris: YEAH. GOLFING. HANGING OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS. VISITING FAMILY!!

↳princesa: Oh, estoy tan contenta de tener un par de meses lejos de este niño... (I'm so happy to have a couple of months away from this child)

↳landonorris: Wrong!

↳carlossainz55: Since when can you read Spanish?

↳princesa: since when can you read?

↳landonorris: I’m reporting you again for bullying! And google translate exists ya know

↳landonorris: also! I’m gonna be visiting you this break

↳princesa: sorry not interested in a threesome

↳landonorris: NOOOO

↳landonorris: Carlos promised me a couple rounds of golf so there 😝

↳carlossainz55: it was a moment of weakness

user18: oh to have a champagne soaked Carlos Sainz sprint over to me to kiss me senseless after a spectacular race,,,

↳princesa: it’s a great experience! But get your own — this one is mine

↳user18: girl we’ve seen all your comments this year. We know

↳princesa: just like reminding people they can look but not have 😊

user19: i know everyone has been focusing on their…horniness this year but damn she must love him too. To quit her job just to follow him across the world…

↳princesa: it was a scary thought at first but I’m so glad I did it

↳carlossainz55: I am as well

↳landonorris: I’m not. Go away

↳princesa: I’m gonna be honest with you. We get worse with distance — you got off light this year

↳landonorris: nooooooooooooooo

↳user20: and they’re back to their regular programming

user21: my favorite part of the season is now knowing Lando Norris is the type of person to clutch his pearls at the sight of an ankle…

↳user22: right? Not what i expected

↳landonorris: I AM NOT!

↳user22: sure Jan

↳landonorris: I CAN HANDLE SEX JUST FINE THEIR JUST BEING MEAN TO ME

↳user21: ok grandpa, let’s get you back to bed

↳landonorris: NOT YOU GUYS TOO…

carlossainz55

liked by princesa, landonorris, user, and 4,822,445 others

tagged: princesa

carlossainz55: No more Ferrari PR jail, no more hiding these in my camera roll. My gorgeous gorgeous girl 🥵🥵 I’m so glad to be able to call you mine

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princesa: well let’s not completely get rid of the jail…I do quite like the handcuffs ☺️

↳carlossainz55: I could be persuaded

↳princesa: meet me in five?

↳carlossainz55: 🏃🏻‍♂️💨

user23: oh my god you guys were being tame???

↳princesa: oh absolutely

↳user23: oh my god…

user24: can Carlos fight? Like seriously?

↳carlossainz55: Yes

↳user25: I think if a group of us get together we could take him

↳carlossainz55: You’d be wrong

↳princesa: sorry girls guys and nonbinary pals — I am a one man girl

↳princesa: and I think I’d have to report you to someone

↳user25: you know what? That’s fair

↳used24: and hot!?! Gotta love that kind of loyalty

landonorris: I’m gonna deactivate my account

↳princesa: I didn’t think I’d get my Christmas present so early!

↳landonorris: 😑😑

↳carlossainz55: I’ll give you a Christmas present 🎁

↳princesa: a big one?

↳carlossainz55: Oh you know it

↳landonorris: NOT ON MY COMMENT THREAD. GO AWAY

user26: Sad to see Carlos leave Ferrari but good god am I excited to see the more unhinged version of him in Williams…

↳user27: thank god I’m not the only one

[gasstationlady]

the start of something beautiful | a lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x private!reader (fc: tyla)

lando is spotted with an unknown woman, and everyone thinks she’s another fling. however, later revealed as naomi campbell’s daughter, lando's fans slowly start to love her despite her tendency to be private.

notes: btw, i’m so sorry i’ve been mia for a while! honestly, i have a ton of drafts i’ve written over the time i didn’t post, but i lowkey hate all of them lmao. anyways, hope you enjoy this fluff :)

disclaimer: swearing. photos not mine. OLD PIC OF JAZ AND ROSS (yes it’s a warning bc i’m still mourning that relationship, and ik i’m not the only one). there are a few mistakes in the tweets that i was too lazy to fix lol. also, i hope the flow doesn’t feel too rushed!

masterlist

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbestie and 138 others

yourusername 🌸

View all 10 comments

yourbestie 👀

↳ yourusername 🙈

yourbestie framing these pics brb 😍😍

f1gossip

2,993 likes

f1gossip We received these photos of Lando and a girl today! It looks like the same girl he has been spotted with for the past 3 months, but it’s still unclear who it is. ☕️

View all 202 comments

user three months of them being pictured AND YET NONE CLEARLY CAPTURE HER FACE. that’s some bs

↳ user no deadass bc you guys had one job 🙄

user lmaoooo i know the delulu fans are crying that she’s still here

user Are we sure it's the same girl? Lmfao even if it is, he's probably going to get tired of her soon!

user god i hope people learn and treat her better than how they treated luisinha

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 759,301 others

landonorris First time trying wakeboarding 🤙

View all 1,401 comments

user happy lando >>>

user Where’s your girlfriend

user not the red bull life vest lmfaoo

user lando rlly said here’s some shirtless pics to distract u

↳ user frrr but like it’s not working 😭

f1gossip

12,321 likes

f1gossip Naomi Campbell and daughter, Y/N Campbell, making an appearance at today’s GP! It's presumed that Y/N is dating Mclaren driver, Lando Norris. Our sources in the paddock mentions that the two visited the Mercedes, Ferrari, and Mclaren garages before the race. 👀

View all 188 comments

user i'm literally in love w her she's soo beautiful 😍

user this actually makes sense that they knew each other since naomi has been connected to f1 for a while now

user I would be unstoppable if I looked like her.

user she looks so kind 🥺🥺

user oh the things i would do to reincarnate as a wealthy person’s child

user i was there and got to meet her and i’d just like to say that i’d go to war for her

landoupdates

7,626 likes

landoupdates Max, Lando, and Y/N (seen in second photo, far right) with fans at an after party! We received these pictures a few minutes ago, and the fan included “Y/N mostly stood behind as Max and Lando were asked for photos but she was so so kind !! Although you can tell she likes to keep to herself, she told me she thought my dress was cute and even got Lando’s attention for me so I could ask for a picture 😭 Also, he kept holding her hand !!!”

View all 204 comments

user her face card is insane.

user now that we know she's naomi's daughter, i can't believe we didn't see it before LOL

user “he kept holding her hand” 😭😭😭😭😭

user I have never wanted someone to go off private so bad 😩

user honestly she’s my new fav wag

user it’s the way everyone loves her rn lmaoooo

user LANDO CAN YOU FIGHT

f1gossip

11,234 likes

f1gossip Lando, Ginge, and Ethan possibly alluding to Lando’s new relationship with Y/N in the recent Quadrant video 👀👀

See all 239 comments

user not them clowning him 😭

user i mean we all know by now that they’re together but this was the cherry on top

user melting over how he couldn’t stop smiling 🥹

user the fact that he kept this clip in 😩😩

user I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING “LANDO CAN YOU FIGHT”

user I get it 😭 I also wouldn’t be able to hide that I’m dating Y/N

user perfect example of private but not a secret, in love with them 🥹🥹

landoupdates

5,389 likes

landoupdates A few photos of Lando and Y/N at the paddock today ☺️

See all 195 comments

user literally my fav couple

user when is he gonna make it officially on insta

↳ user My thoughts exactly!! 😭😭 I know not everything has to be posted, but I’m just excited to see him officially announce it.

user my girl y/n looked so fucking good today

user i just want him to post her solely because i want more y/n pics

↳ user LOL you’re so real for that

landonorris

liked by yourusername, angryginge13, georgerussell63 and 1,221,334 others

landonorris We so good ❤️

View all 4,201 comments

user THE HAND PLACEMENT

user not tagging her is criminal 😭😭

↳ user girl what’s the point when she’s on private

user When will it be my turn 😩

user LANDO??? OMFG

user TURN IT UP IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE 😁😁😁🔊🔊

user omggg i can’t, they’re goals

user Y/N IS SO CUTE

user i luv my parents

[bed-chemist]

ommmmg can u write something with nicolas being a new dad x reader wife 🙏🙏🙏 maybe them visiting his family during a short trip and him being sooooooo daddyyyy 😭😭 after seeing him in those GH pic with this baby …. 🥵😮‍💨 i just need a dad imagines with him since there isn’t any

❝Juno❞

─⋆♡ summary: You’re married to Nicholas Chavez and you bring your newborn baby to meet his grandparents.

─⋆♡ warnings: pregnancy, postpartum depression, fluff, allusions to sex but no smut, Daddy!Nicholas Chavez, Y/N used a few times, 1st person POV. as always i’m always learning so correct me if i missed something!!

─⋆♡ an: based on this ask & shoutout to that person because this was super sweet to write. there’s no public info on his parents and i felt weird looking for it so here’s some Chavez grandparents content. since this may be your introduction to me, i do write in first person, just inserting Y/N. 2nd and 3rd person are absolutely insufferable to me and make me wanna die. with that being said, i’m glad there��s no shortage of those fics on this website. my masterlist is the pinned post on my profile and i hope you all enjoy this imagine! ★ ˙ᵕ˙ liv

The journey to Nicholas’ grandparents’ house is filled with quiet anticipation. We haven’t visited in a while, not since Colette was born. I can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of introducing Colette to her great-grandparents, Nick SR and Betty. Nicholas always speaks of them with such affection, often recounting tales from his childhood spent at their cozy home. They were instrumental in raising him, and their influence is deeply ingrained in who he’s become. Now, I’m eager to see how they’ll respond to our little family, especially to me as a new mother.

The sun is high in the sky as we pull into the gravel driveway, which crunches under the tires. The house is a charming, white colonial-style home with flower boxes beneath the windows, bursting with vibrant blooms. It looks like something out of a postcard—quaint and welcoming. Nicholas squeezes my hand as he turns off the car.

“You ready for this?” he asks, his brown eyes twinkling with excitement.

I smile, though my heart races. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I respond unwilling to let his hand go for the last time.

I eventually gain enough strength to go a second without touching him. We both step out of the car, and I unbuckle Colette from her car seat, carefully lifting her into my arms. She’s dressed in a soft, pastel onesie with tiny flowers embroidered on the front. Her big espresso colored eyes, so much like Nicholas’, blink up at me as she squirms a little in my hold. I kiss her soft forehead, breathing in that sweet baby scent that always seems to calm my nerves.

Before we even reach the front door, it flies open, and Betty appears on the porch. Her face lights up in a radiant smile as she hurries down the steps toward us. She’s a small woman, but she moves with surprising speed and agility, her silver hair tied back in a loose bun.

“There she is! Oh, it’s about time!” Betty exclaims, ignoring Nicholas entirely as she comes straight for me and Colette. Her arms are wide open, and she pulls me into a hug, careful not to crush the baby between us. “You, my darling, look even more beautiful than the last time I saw you. And this precious girl…” Her voice trails off as she gazes at Colette with shining eyes. “Oh, she’s just perfect.”

I laugh softly, returning her hug. “I’ve missed you, Mrs. Betty and thank you.”

Betty steps back, her hands still on my arms, her attention fully on Colette. “No, thank you! You brought another little angel into our family,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve made me the happiest great-grandmother.”

Nicholas, standing off to the side, grins as he watches the scene unfold. “Hey, Grandma,” he chimes in, clearly amused. “Good to see you too.”

Betty waves a hand in his direction without even glancing his way. “Yes, yes, Nicholas. We’ll get to you in a minute.” Her eyes shimmer as she reaches out to gently stroke Colette’s chubby cheek. “She’s absolutely precious,” she coos. “She looks just like Nicholas did when he was a baby.”

Just then, Nicholas’ grandfather steps out onto the porch, his tall frame casting a shadow as he approaches us. His blue eyes light up when he sees me holding Colette. “Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” he says with a warm grin, pulling me into a quick hug before peering down at Colette. “And look at this—another beauty in the family. You’ve done well,” he adds, giving Nicholas a nod of approval before clapping him on the shoulder.

“Well she is 50% of me so…” Nicholas’s twinge of jealousy for his favorite girls peeks out.

“Oh, hush, Nicholas,” Betty replies, waving a hand at him dismissively before turning to me again. “Come on, dear, let’s get you inside. You must be exhausted after the drive. And you must let me hold this precious girl as soon as you’re settled.”

Inside the house, the smell of freshly baked bread wafts through the air, mingling with the scent of herbs and flowers. The living room is cozy and welcoming, filled with family photos and knick-knacks that speak of years of love and memories. There are pictures of Nick as a little boy, his brother, and even one of us on our wedding day.

Betty leads us to the couch, offering to take Colette for a little while so I can rest. “She’s such a calm baby,” Betty remarks as she cradles Colette in her arms. “I remember Nicholas being a little firecracker at this age—always kicking and fussing. But you, my dear, are an angel, aren’t you?” she coos, her voice full of love as Colette blinks up at her.

Nick Sr. settles into an armchair nearby, watching with a contented smile. “Betty’s right,” he says, his voice warm. “Nick was a handful. Always running around and getting into trouble. I don’t know how we managed to keep up with him.”

Nicholas chuckles, settling beside me on the couch and wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Yeah, I’ve heard those stories a few times.”

“I bet you have,” Betty says, her eyes twinkling. “But look at you now—such a wonderful father and husband. We’re so proud of you.”

My heart swells at their words, and I feel a wave of gratitude wash over me. It’s clear how much they love Nicholas and how deeply they cherish their family. Their affection extends to me as well, making me feel welcomed in a way that eases the nervousness I had felt earlier.

Betty carefully passes Colette back to me, and I can’t help but notice how her eyes linger on us—on the way I hold my daughter, the way Colette nuzzles into me. After a moment, she glances at Nick Sr., sharing a look that seems to speak volumes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Betty says suddenly, rising from her seat with a bright smile. “We have something to show you.”

She disappears into another room, returning moments later with a large, leather-bound photo album. She hands it to Nicholas with a wide grin. “These are pictures of you when you were about Colette’s age. I thought it’d be fun to compare.”

Nicholas takes the album and begins flipping through the pages, his eyes lighting up as he sees the photos. “Oh wow,” he says, pointing to a picture of himself as a baby, bundled in a blanket. “Look at that, she really does look like me.”

I lean over to see the photo, and sure enough, the resemblance is striking. Colette has inherited her father’s dark hair and expressive eyes, and there’s something about the way she smiles that’s undeniably Nicholas Chavez.

Betty beams. “She’s got that same spark in her eyes that you had. And those cheeks! I could pinch them all day.”

I can’t help but smile as Nicholas flips through more photos—Nicholas as a toddler, covered in mud from head to toe; Nicholas on his first day of school, looking serious and determined; Nicholas holding a toy sword, pretending to be a knight. It’s clear that his grandparents were there for all of it, capturing every moment with care.

“Look at this one,” Nicholas says, laughing as he holds up a picture of himself as a toddler, sitting in a high chair with spaghetti sauce smeared all over his face.

Betty chuckles. “You loved spaghetti. Still do, if I remember correctly.”

As we continue to flip through the album, Betty excuses herself and motions for me to follow her into the kitchen. I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what she wants to talk about, but her kind smile reassures me.

Once we’re alone, she turns to me, her expression soft and full of understanding. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a wonderful job, Y/N,” she says, her voice gentle. “Being a new mom is hard, and it can feel overwhelming sometimes. But from what I’ve seen, you’re handling it beautifully.”

I feel a lump form in my throat at her words, the unexpected kindness bringing a surge of emotion. “Thank you,” I say quietly. “It’s been… challenging at times. I have moments where I wonder if I’m doing it right.”

Betty reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Those moments of doubt are normal. Every mother feels them. But you have such a natural way with Colette. She feels safe and loved with you—that’s the most important thing.”

I nod, blinking back tears. “It’s just… sometimes I feel like I should be able to do more. I get so tired, and Nick’s been amazing, but…” I trail off, stopping myself from revealing my biggest insecurities.

Betty’s eyes soften even more. “It’s okay to ask for help, dear. You don’t have to do it all on your own. If you ever need anything—advice, a break, someone to talk to—you can always come to me. I’m here for you, and so is Nicholas. We’re all family now,” she offers.

Her words wrap around me like a comforting embrace, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of relief. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful beyond words.

Betty smiles and gives my hand another gentle squeeze. “You’re doing wonderfully. Just remember to take care of yourself too, okay?”

I nod, my heart swelling with appreciation for this woman who has welcomed me into her family with open arms. As we walk back into the living room, I feel lighter, the weight of my doubts lifting just a little.

Nicholas looks up as we enter, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly in concern.

I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me. “Yeah,” I say softly. “Everything’s perfect.”

As the afternoon fades into evening, Betty leans forward with a warm smile, her hands clasped in her lap. “It’s been so wonderful having you all here today,” she says, her eyes soft as she looks between Nicholas, me, and Colette. “Why don’t you stay the night? It’s been far too long since we’ve had a full house, and we’d love the chance to spend more time with you.”

Nicholas turns to me, his voice gentle as he asks, “What do you think? We don’t have anywhere to rush off to, and it would give me a break from driving back tonight.”

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the offer. I think about Colette’s bedtime routine, the packed bags in the car, and my own exhaustion. But as I glance around at the warmth of the house, Nick’s grandparents’ eager faces, and the calmness that seems to settle over everything, I feel myself relax. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a change of scenery, and the idea of spending more time here—surrounded by family—sounds like exactly what I need.

“That sounds wonderful,” I say, smiling at Betty. “Thank you. We’d love to stay.”

Betty’s face lights up, and Nick Sr. nods with a wide grin. “Perfect,” he says. “We’ve got the guest room ready, and I can set up the bassinet in the guest room next to it. It’ll be like old times, having a little one in the house again.”

Betty stands, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll put some tea on for later. You two make yourselves at home.”

Nicholas squeezes my hand, a smile spreading across his face. “See? It’s going to be a nice, quiet night—just us, Colette, and the best grandparents ever.”

The evening unfolds comfortably from there. Betty and Nick Sr. share stories about Nick’s childhood over cups of tea, their voices light with laughter and nostalgia. As the night deepens, we finally make our way to the guest room. It’s cozy and inviting, with a soft bedspread, and warm lighting.

Colette falls asleep easily after nursing, making for an easy bedtime routine. Nicholas and I kiss her on the forehead goodnight once we’ve got her situated in the bassinet. We separate briefly to prep for bed and when I’m finished, I crack open the door to the en-suite bathroom.

Nicholas looks up from a script, setting it to the side of the bedside table. My feet patter over to him and he pulls back the duvet for me to climb in. “I’m so tired,” I note as I slide between the sheets.

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to his body. “I know, baby. Maybe my grandparents will watch her in the morning so we can sleep in,” he theorizes lowly, but I can still feel the bass of his voice rumbling from his chest into my back.

I sigh, letting my eyes flutter closed. It’s been an emotional day, and I’m ready for sleep. “It’s okay if they can’t. I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he breathes out with his lips kissing my ear one last time.

My body lets me drift into sleep, hearing nothing but Nicholas’ breathing and the faint sound of crickets outside. But that peace is eventually interrupted by the familiar sound of Colette’s soft cry filling the quiet room.

I blink awake, momentarily disoriented, unsure of where I am. The dimly lit room feels unfamiliar, and for a brief, groggy moment, I can’t remember how we ended up here. But then the memories come rushing back—the visit to Nick’s grandparents, Betty’s kind words, the warmth of the evening.

With a heavy sigh, I sit up in bed, my body aching with fatigue. I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep, and Colette’s cries, though soft, feel like they’re pulling me out of the little bit of rest I’ve managed. The sheets feel cold, and for the first time tonight, I realize Nick’s arms aren’t wrapped around me as they usually are.

The bed dips beneath me, and I hear the soft thud of feet padding across the floor. “Shit,” Nicholas mutters under his breath as he comes into view. I lift my head, watching him groggily fumble with the baby monitor to turn down the volume.

His chocolate tinted eyes meet mine in the dimly lit room, his face softened with a sleepy smile. “I got it, baby. Go back to sleep,” he murmurs, his voice thick and gravelly.

I don’t resist as my head falls back onto the pillow. Nicholas tucks the duvet around my shoulders, his touch warm and reassuring, and leans down to kiss my forehead before slipping out of the room.

As my eyes flutter shut once again, I can’t help but feel immense gratitude for him—for understanding, for seeing me. Nicholas has always been an amazing partner, but since Colette was born, something has deepened. Maybe it's the way he’s embraced fatherhood, those tender daddy traits emerging in him day by day.

I don’t know how long I drift in and out of sleep before the bed dips once more. This time, I turn over to face Nicholas, only to find him kneeling on top of the duvet, cradling Colette in his arms. He gently rocks her, and his brown eyes, full of apology, meet mine. “I'm sorry, babe,” he says softly. “She’s hungry, and I checked the fridge and my Grandma must’ve given her the rest. We’re out of pumped milk,” he gives his valid reason for disturbing me.

With a tired sigh, I push myself up, scooting back against the headboard. “It’s okay,” I reply, motioning for Nicholas to hand Colette to me. “It’s not your fault I don’t pump fast enough for her.”

Nicholas shifts closer, still kneeling, his eyes warm with reassurance. “It’s not your fault either, baby girl,” he says tenderly. “You’re doing everything right. She’s just got my appetite, that’s all.”

Nick’s words bring a smile to my face as I take our little girl in my arms, feeling the love and support that radiates from him. Colette’s small body relaxes the moment she’s nestled in my arms, and I adjust my position to help her latch on. Instinctively, her tiny mouth finds its way, and I feel that familiar pull as she begins to nurse. The room is quiet now, save for the soft sounds of her feeding and the gentle rustle of the duvet as Nicholas shifts beside me, sitting back in his spot where he just laid.

The weight of exhaustion still presses heavily on my body, but there's something calming about this moment—something intimate and grounding. Colette’s little hand rests against my skin, her tiny fingers curling and uncurling as she nurses. Despite the tiredness, I feel a sense of peace wash over me.

Nicholas watches us, his expression soft and filled with admiration. He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face, his touch tender. "You’re amazing, you know that?" he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath in the dark.

I smile faintly, my heart swelling at his words, but before I can respond, he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. "I don’t tell you enough how much I love you... both of you." His gaze flickers to Colette, his eyes warm and full of adoration. "Watching you with her... seeing how strong you are, how much you give every day. You’ve made me the luckiest man in the world, Y/N."

His words sink into me, wrapping around my heart like a warm blanket. The weight of my earlier guilt begins to lift, replaced by the quiet assurance that I’m not alone in this. We’re a team, navigating the highs and lows together.

"I love you too," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion as I glance down at Colette, her soft breaths steady against me. "And I’m so grateful for you. I couldn’t do this without you."

Nicholas leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise of his words. "You’re the best mom, you know that? And she’s lucky to have you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my skin.

I close my eyes, soaking in the warmth of his presence and feeling the steady rhythm of Colette’s nursing. In this moment, the exhaustion, the doubts, and the guilt of my postpartum depression fade into the background, leaving only the love we share—the love that brought Colette into our lives.

Nicholas settles back into bed beside me, his hand resting gently on my leg, a silent reminder that we’re in this together. And as Colette’s soft suckling continues, I let myself fully relax.

Once Colette finishes nursing, her tiny body grows limp in my arms, signaling she’s drifted back to sleep. I carefully adjust her, cradling her small frame against my chest. Nicholas is still sitting beside me, his hand never leaving my leg, his eyes filled with the kind of tenderness that makes my heart swell.

“Do you want me to take her?” Nicholas asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I nod, and with practiced gentleness, he scoops her up and places her between us on the bed. Colette barely stirs, her little hands curling up by her face as she nestles into the space between us. The sight of her lying there, so peaceful and content, brings a soft smile to my lips. My body involuntarily slides down and I stoke her cheek with the back of my finger.

Nick lays down with his head propped up in one arm, the other sliding around me. But as I gaze at Colette sleeping peacefully between us, a small wave of anxiety creeps in. What if we roll over onto her during the night? My breath hitches slightly, and I turn my head toward him.

Nicholas immediately senses my concern and shifts closer, his hand coming to rest gently on my cheek. "Hey, don't worry," he says softly, his voice reassuring. "I’ve got her. We’ve got her. I won’t let anything happen." His thumb brushes against my skin as he speaks, his gaze steady and full of calm. "I’ve read up on this, remember? She’s safe with us. We’re light sleepers, and we’re both hyper-aware she’s here. I’ll make sure we’re careful."

I nod, though the worry still lingers. Nicholas leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You won’t roll over on her. I won’t either. Trust me, baby. And if you’re still worried, I can take her back to the bassinet,” he assures me.

I glance down at Colette, her tiny chest rising and falling, completely at ease between us. There’s something comforting about her being so close, something I don’t want to give up. "No," I say softly, shaking my head. "I want her here with us. I just... I get nervous sometimes,” I admit to him, the concerns laced with my postpartum depression symptoms.

"I know," he murmurs. "But you’re not alone in this. We’re doing it together, okay? She’s safe. We’ll keep her safe,” he promises.

His warmth and the calm assurance in his voice help to ease the anxiety a little, and I let out a slow breath. I snuggle closer to him, nestling my head in the crook of his neck. "Thank you," I whisper.

Nicholas kisses the top of my head, his hand stroking Colette’s tiny arm before returning it to my waist. “I used to dream about this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “You, me, and a baby… just lying here like this, all together.” His eyes shine in the dim light, filled with a quiet wonder. “I’d imagine what it would feel like, how perfect it would be. But this... this is even better than I imagined.”

His words sink deep into my chest, filling me with warmth. I glance down at Colette, her chest rising and falling steadily between us, and I feel a wave of contentment wash over me. “I’m glad too. It’s everything I didn’t know I needed,” I whisper back.

Nick’s thumb rubs gentle circles over the exposed skin on my side, and for a while, we lie there in comfortable silence, both of us watching Colette sleep. I feel the weight of his arm around me, the warmth of his body, and I can’t help but think about our future—about the life we’re building together.

After a while, I glance up at Nick, my voice soft but curious. “Do you ever think about… having another one? Another baby, I mean.”

His reaction is immediate. His brown eyes light up, the glint of excitement undeniable. He grins, that boyish, playful smile I fell in love with, and there’s no hesitation in his voice. “Oh, absolutely. I thought one of you was cute, but two though? Didn’t think I could handle it. But now that I’ve experienced it, I want three of you as soon as possible,” he rambles.

I laugh softly, both amused and surprised by his enthusiasm. “Three of us, huh?” I ask to clarify he’s not drunk on love.

“Yeah, babe,” he says, his hand moving to stroke Colette’s tiny hand before trailing over my arm. “We could start trying as soon as possible. I mean, why wait? We make great babies together,” he jokes and I stifle a laugh to not wake up our sleeping child.

His grin turns mischievous as he leans in closer, his voice dropping a little lower. “We could even try out some freaky positions this time… you know, spice things up.”

I roll my eyes playfully, shaking my head at him, though my heart flutters at his words. “That’s all you, God bless your dad’s genetics,” I tease, eyeing him with a smirk.

Nicholas chuckles, clearly enjoying my response, but there’s a seriousness in his eyes too—a real desire to keep building this life together. “I’m serious though,” he murmurs, his hand moving to rest on my waist. “I want more of this. More of us. I want a whole bunch of mini versions of you running around, driving me crazy in the best way.”

His words hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting, and I feel a flush of warmth spread through me. I lean closer, letting my fingers trace over his arm. “You’re really ready for another one, huh?”

Nick’s gaze locks with mine, intense but full of love. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t just want another one. I want a whole football team of kids with you. As soon as you’re ready,” he says firmly.

I bite my lip, considering his words, feeling the quiet excitement bubbling up inside me. “I might just let you lock me down tonight,” I tease, my voice soft but playful.

His eyes darken slightly, that same spark of mischief flickering in them. “Oh, baby, don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my lips.

I pull back slightly, laughing against his mouth. “Let’s not rush it,” I whisper, even though my hormones are raging at the thought. “But... I do love the idea of growing our little family,” I add to soften the blow of sex denial.

Nicholas grins again, his arm pulling me closer as Colette sleeps peacefully between us. “Then let’s make it happen,” he says softly. “One more baby… and then another after that, we can talk again. I just know I want it all with you. Every first word and every first day of school, my love.”

I smile, resting my head on his shoulder, letting the warmth of his words and the future he envisions wash over me. “One step at a time,” I murmur, though the idea is already taking root in my mind, the thought of more little ones filling our home with love.

As we lay there, cuddling around Colette, the future feels wide open—and incredibly full of promise. The room is quiet, the soft hum of the night surrounding us, and as we lay there, I feel the steady rise and fall of Nick’s chest beneath my palms.

“Goodnight, baby,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear. I smile softly, my body already succumbing to sleep as I whisper back,

“Goodnight, Nicholas. I love you,” I murmur, never getting tired of reminding him.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice full of warmth and certainty. “Both of my girls.”

With that, the last thing I feel is the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of Colette’s breathing between us, and the overwhelming sense of love that wraps around the three of us, pulling us into the soft cocoon of sleep.

The next time I stir awake, it’s to the feeling of the sun shining on my face. Nicholas’ familiar presence is next to me, his body relaxed as he leans back against the headboard. I can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, the slight rustle of pages as he quietly reads. For a moment, I let myself enjoy the comfort of having him close.

But something is wrong.

I don’t feel Colette.

The tiny body that was nestled between us is gone, and in an instant, a wave of cold panic floods my chest. My breath catches, and my heart starts to pound, my worst fear bubbling to the surface. Oh God, did I roll over her? Did we…?

My eyes snap open, and I sit up abruptly, frantically scanning the bed. My hands reach out, patting the mattress in blind desperation as my breath quickens. Where is she? My mind spirals into worst-case scenarios, and my pulse races faster with each second I can’t find her.

Nicholas looks up from his script, his brow furrowing as he notices my panic. “Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is calm, but I can hear the concern lacing his words.

“Colette,” I breathe, my voice barely a whisper as the fear clutches at me. “She’s not here, Nick. I—where is she?”

Nicholas immediately places his script aside and sits up, reaching for me. His hands find my shoulders, grounding me. “Babe, she’s fine,” he says gently, his voice steady, though I can see the alarm in his eyes as he realizes why I’m panicking. “Grandma has her. She came in earlier to take her so you could rest. She’s with her now, probably showing her off to her knitting group. Everything’s okay.”

I stare at Nicholas, the rush of adrenaline still coursing through me, but the words slowly sink in. Colette isn’t in danger. She’s not here because Betty took her.

I let out a shaky breath, pressing a hand to my chest as the fear begins to ebb away. “I thought… I woke up and she wasn’t there. I thought we—” My voice falters, not even wanting to finish the thought.

Nicholas pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve woken you to tell you, but you looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you,” he apologizes profusely.

I nod against Nick’s chest, the tension finally loosening from my body as I cling to him. “I just… that’s what I’ve been afraid of, rolling over her in our sleep,” I admit.

“I know,” Nicholas murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “But I would never let that happen. I swear that to you,” he adds.

I take a deep breath, letting the warmth of his embrace steady me. My pulse slows down, and the overwhelming panic that had gripped me starts to dissipate, leaving me feeling drained. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have freaked out.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Y/N,” Nicholas says, his hand gently stroking my back. “You’re a mom. It’s normal to worry, but I’ve got you. I’ve got both of you.”

I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes that are full of understanding. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice still shaky but filled with gratitude.

Nicholas smiles softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Get some more rest, okay? Grandma’s got Colette covered.”

I nod, feeling the last remnants of panic finally fade. I glance at his script beside him and give a tired smile. “You’re memorizing lines this early?” I pry.

He chuckles. “Just passing the time until you woke up. But you come first,” he vows.

I sink back into the pillows, the warmth of Nicholas beside me a comforting presence now that the fear has passed. As I close my eyes, the world feels right again. Colette is safe, Nicholas is here, and I let myself relax fully for the first time since waking up. The panic has faded into the background, leaving only the steady hum of reassurance from my husband beside me.

[vettelsvee]

hiii!! 2 with oscar please?😭

YOU WANT THAT BOOK? I'LL BUY YOU THE WHOLE SERIES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar takes you to a bookstore and, after he sees you fingerling over a saga, he decides to buy it for you (without knowing it was about fictional versions of Formula 1 drivers) ↳ REQUESTED: Part of VEE'S F1 PROMPTS LIST (VOL. I)! Feel free to request anything you want <3 Hope you liked it anon! 💖

WORD COUNT: 1891

WARNINGS: Brief mention of drugs, mentions to Dirty Air saga (spoiler free) with not much knowledge about it

VEE'S NOTES: Was I expecting posting a fic today? No. Did I have to write something to distress after the pretty bad exam I made today? Yes! Now writing this and thinking about Teacher!Seb fics has made me feel in a better mood (ngl I'm pretty disappointed with myself). Anyways, hope you like today's fic and remember that, if you did, feel free to comment me your thoughts and, also, reblog as it helps me a lot! Thank you so much for reading <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The moment you crossed the doors of the bookstore, you felt like you were at home.

Maybe it was the scent of vanilla and coffee, or perhaps the instrumental music playing softly, just like the one you were used to listen to at home in the afternoons while spending hours lost in a book and its story. You were so excited that you gripped Oscar’s hand tightly, your heart pounding faster than usual at the movie-like moment you were living.

"Alright…" Oscar began, his gaze wandering in every direction, completely absorbed by the towering bookshelves surrounding you both. "I’ve taken you to a bookstore, so I think my job here is officially done."

You stared at him in disbelief before rolling your eyes.

"Osc, you don’t just take your girlfriend to a bookstore. You stay with her the whole time to live the experience, you know… that whole reader's boyfriend thing."

Now it was Oscar’s turn to roll his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smile as you spun around and rushed toward a nearby table. Despite having little to no interest in reading, unless it involved race reports or it was Mark Webber’s biography, he loved the passion you had for books. Though, much to your dismay, he had never actually finished any of your recommendations even you insisted on him a lot.

"Yeah, okay, sure. You lead the way, Mrs. Bookworm…"

You weren’t listening. Instead, you were completely lost, eyes darting from one book to another, unable to stand still from sheer excitement. The overwhelming number of stories in front of you didn’t help either.

Then, it happened. The moment you spotted the book you had been searching for longer than you cared to admit, you let out a small squeal. Oscar jumped at the sudden sound, hurrying over to you only to find you clutching a red book, turning it over in your hands, inhaling its scent like it was some rare artifact.

"Oh… my… god…" you whispered.

Oscar glanced at the cover. Throttled. His eyes flickered to the camera and polaroids, especially the one in the center, which showed a red car eerily similar to the one Charles had driven a few years back when he first joined Ferrari.

"Oh…" Oscar muttered as realization hit him. "So it’s a Formula 1 book…"

Do Formula 1 romantic books exist?, thought Oscar, a bit in disbelief.

You turned to him, shoving the book in his face.

"It’s not just a Formula 1 book! It’s THE Formula 1 book! Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted it for?"

"Since before we started dating, or after?" he teased, smirking. "You’re dating an actual Formula 1 driver, and here you are, thrilled to read a love story about one."

"Noah Slade is different. Very different, actually."

"Oh, so I guess this Noah guy is gonna replace me now, huh?" Oscar feigned offense.

"Well… I like you more. A lot more. And… I don’t know… you’re you. No one could ever compare, so…"

It wasn’t just you who turned red. Oscar did too, lowering his gaze while you pretended to read the book, using the pages as a shield to hide just how flustered you were.

This wasn’t how you had imagined telling Oscar you loved him for the first time.

"Well…" you tried to speak, clearing your throat, but Oscar cut in.

"Are you getting it?"

You opened your mouth but hesitated. It was a limited edition, and also very expensive. If you bought this one, you’d have to get the rest of the series too, but you were broke because, of course, you had impulsively bought five books just last week.

"Uh… I don’t know…" you murmured.

He studied your face for a few seconds, and without thinking too much about it, he stepped closer and grabbed the book from you.  

“What are you doing?”  

“Buying it for you,” he said casually as he walked toward the checkout.  

“Oscar, don’t you dare!” you shouted, rushing after him and snatching the book from his hands to put it back on the shelf. “You don’t have to—”  

“You want that book?” he asked. You nodded timidly. “I’ll buy you the whole series.”  

You stumbled, nearly falling as you tried to stop Oscar from grabbing Collided, Wrecked, and Redeemed.

“Oscar, you can’t just buy me an entire series just because…” you whispered, trying to keep up with his hurried steps.  

“Oh, no? And why not?”  

“Because… Because…” You opened and closed your mouth, struggling to find a reasonable enough answer to make him stop. “Because… It's too much money, Osc, that’s not right!”  

Oscar laughed. You knew perfectly well that your boyfriend was a millionaire, and even though he was very careful with his money and his expenses, buying four books wasn’t much of an expense for him the way it was for you.  

“Besides, you already spend so much time around the Formula 1 world. I don’t think it’s necessary for you to spend even more time listening to me obsess over fictional drivers and talk about them nonstop.”  

“Don’t worry, love, I’ll be more than happy to hear you ramble about those cheap copies of us,” Oscar scoffed, smiling at the cashier as he handed over the books.  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, giving up as the woman started scanning the books.  

“And yet you love me…”  

Your face burned instantly. Not knowing how to respond, you focused on watching Oscar swipe his card and chat briefly with the cashier about you, his girlfriend, before taking the paper bag with the books inside.  

“Boys nowadays should be more like you, son,” the woman commented to Oscar, beaming. Then she turned to you. “And you, sunshine, enjoy your books and your wonderful boyfriend as well!”  

You nodded shyly. Oscar bid the woman goodbye and headed for the exit, holding the bag in one hand while placing the other on your back, guiding you outside before wrapping an arm around your waist.  

You couldn’t stop wondering what you had done to deserve such a thoughtful and attentive boyfriend like Oscar.  

“So, I guess now you’re going to try to make me read this series… Dirty Air, am I right?”  

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, finally looking at him and pushing aside that lingering shyness, the feeling that you didn’t deserve such a gift. “I’m convinced you’re going to fall in love with Santiago Alatorre.”  

“Santiago Alatorre?” Oscar repeated, curious. “Wait, wait… Are these characters, like… completely fictional? Or are they based on any of us?”  

You chuckled softly, carefully taking the bag from Oscar because you were excited to carry it yourself.  

“Well…”  

“Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t know, because that’s already an answer in itself.”  

You bit your lip, unsure whether to tell him the truth. It was obvious, really, but you felt… weird about him discovering the fantasies the author had written based on some of them, and moreover the fandom surrounding those stories.  

“Okay, fine…” you sighed, giving in. “Yeah, some of them are based on you guys.”  

“And?”  

Oscar raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to know more about what was written about them.

“What do you mean and?”

“Who each of us is who. If there are supposedly four main characters…”

“Oh, yeah, about that…” You played with your hands, mentally trying to stay calm and not go into full fangirl mode, like you always did whenever Oscar talked about something that excited him. “So… Noah is supposed to be Charles, at least physically and in terms of teammates… but his personality and life are much more like Max’s. You know, toxic father and all that…”

“So, this Noah guy is a menace? Like Max back during the 2023 season?”

“No, no! I guess he’s… ambitious, let’s say.”

“And the others?”

“Liam, the one from the second book, is a bit complicated,” you commented. “People see him as Pierre, and some others as Mick, but to me, since he’s German, he’s kinda like Nico Rosberg mixed with Seb’s personality from his Red Bull years… or at least the way teenage girls see him, like a playboy type. I think you’re too sure what I’m talking about”

“And not just teenage girls I must say,” Oscar added.

“Then there’s Jax, who is one hundred percent Lewis,” you continued. “Jax is Liam’s teammate, so it makes sense, you know… what I explained to you earlier.”

Oscar nodded, understanding very little but happy to see you so excited.

“And the last one, Santiago, the one I mentioned before, is Carlos,” you blurted out with a growing smile. “He’s Spanish and Charles’... I mean, Noah's teammate! And, well… they say he’s really cute, so I hope to read the first three books as quickly as possible to get to his.”

“I’m starting to think that, from the way you talk about him, he’s going to become your newest addition to you not so short fictional crushes list,” Piastri laughed.

“Oh, absolutely. You know I have a thing for the good guys, and according to the TikToks I’ve watched, Santi is exactly that.”

“I can’t believe you’re fantasizing over fictional versions of my rivals,” Oscar said, tilting his head as he laughed.

“Don’t be dramatic, Osc. Why do you think I like Santi so much from what I’ve seen? Because he’s supposed to be as much of a sweetheart as you!” you exclaimed. “But I promise that no matter how much I talk about these guys after tonight, once I start the first book, it’ll just be some kind of substitute for you or whatever ridiculous thing you’re imagining.”

“You know what?” You tilted your head. “I think you should write one of those Formula 1 romance books based on our story.”

Your eyes widened in shock, unable to believe what your boyfriend had just said.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean it. You should do it,” Piastri shrugged. “I know how much you love writing, and seeing how happy these books make you… Plus, I’m curious to see what kind of terrible personality you’d give me. You could make me the typical egotistical guy who constantly gets into PR trouble for, I don’t know, smoking weed? Like what happened with Zayn and Louis from One Direction. You told me about that once, right?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back your laughter and look serious, but it was impossible.

“Bold of you to assume I’m not already writing a fanfic about us and posting it on Tumblr.”

Oscar’s jaw dropped.

“What?”

You laughed again.

“No, Y/N, that’s not funny. You’re joking, right? Tell me you’re joking…”

“Do you really think I am?” you teased, raising an eyebrow, feeling quite pleased that you had finally confessed one of your best-kept secrets, one you had been dying to tell him even you felt a bit ashamed.

Oscar stared at you, his mind struggling to process the information.

Were people actually reading a story about his life, possibly with real details, and thinking it was completely fictional?

“What exactly are you writing about… us, Y/N?”

You just giggled, took his hand, interlaced your fingers with his, and kept walking.

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to check out jellyastri81 on Tumblr and find out for yourself.”