#but shes still new to being free at this point

[0scarp1astr1]

 ˖ 𐔌 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬࿐ .

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Lando is loving his new life as a family man, making time and moments with them count. With his baby girl in the picture now, life couldn't be more perfect. Until, the media crosses a line it shouldn't. ||

Change it all ((Read First if you haven't))

ᯓ★ (Husband!) Lando Norris x Fem! (Wife) Reader

ᯓ★ 1x Genre: Fluff, Angst

ᯓ★ Warning: Sad Sebastian, pissed off Lando, but nothing really major.

ᯓ★ Requested? Yes

Author Note: Here for you all! Maybe one day, I can make a fic where all the kids to the drivers spend time together. Feel free to request any time you want. Here is Lando being a dad again, and by far a good one.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

It was early morning in the Norris flat nestled in the hills of Monaco, where the sky glowed with a soft pastel light and the sea reflected gold from the slowly rising sun. The hush of dawn hadn’t yet been broken — the kind of peace that felt borrowed, fleeting, like the quiet before a favorite song starts. It was moments like these that made everything feel real. Lando’s arm was draped across your waist, his breath warm against your shoulder, the covers tangled between your legs.

What was once a sleek and stylish bachelor’s flat had transformed into something entirely different over the past few years — still elegant, still Monaco — but lived-in now, softened by crayon marks on walls that wouldn’t wash off, scattered Lego bricks in the corners, and the sound of little feet that never really stopped moving.

What remained just as surreal as the view outside was how completely Lando had embraced his role as a father — to both your children. He had stepped into Sebastian’s life when your son was only three, never once blinking at the challenge of loving a child that wasn’t biologically his. And now, with Lyla — his own daughter — nothing had changed. If anything, he seemed more determined to make sure Sebastian never felt a difference. He claimed him proudly, in every interview, every post, every loving gesture that quietly said: this boy is mine.

You felt his fingers flex sleepily around your waist, his face buried into your neck.

“I hear those feet…” you murmured with a tired grin.

Lando groaned in reply, eyes still shut, his curls tickling your shoulder as he shifted. “I’ll count down from five…”

You laughed softly. “No need. They’re moving at the speed of light.”

Before either of you could react, the door swung open with the force of a hurricane. Seven-year-old Sebastian shot into the room like a missile, socks skidding against hardwood before he leapt onto the bed with zero hesitation. The mattress bounced with the impact, jostling both of you as Lando let out a dramatic oof and you burst into giggles.

Trailing behind him, in a much gentler and wobblier fashion, was Lyla — her two-year-old curls still tousled from sleep, thumb halfway to her mouth, but her determination never wavering. She used the edge of the bed to hoist herself up, little knees clambering with practiced effort until she was nestled beside you.

Sebastian grinned wide, face already lit with excitement. “Do you know what today is?!” he asked, bouncing on his knees as if it were Christmas morning.

Lando blinked sleepily at him. “Hmm… let me guess, buddy… your birthday?”

Sebastian collapsed dramatically across Lando’s chest. “Nooo! Guess again!”

“My birthday?” Lando teased, pointing at himself.

Sebastian giggled, shaking his head. “No, Daddy! It’s practice day! For my race!”

Lando gasped with mock horror. “You’re right! How could I forget? That’s way more important than a birthday!”

You watched them with a smile, pulling Lyla into your arms as she giggled softly and tucked her head under your chin. You kissed the top of her curls and rocked gently.

“Well, you two boys have a busy day,” you said with a knowing smirk.

Lando shook his head, sitting up with Sebastian still draped across him like a backpack. “We all do! Come on, let’s go out afterward! Make a day of it.”

You raised a brow. “You know how Lyla does in public,” you said gently, voice full of motherly concern. “She gets overwhelmed, and—”

He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing soft circles across your palm. “I’ll be there. I’ve got her. I’ve got all of you. Always.” His voice was low but full of that quiet conviction that never failed to ground you.

You leaned in, kissing him softly. A moment shared — peaceful and full of promise.

“Ew!” Sebastian whined loudly, slapping his hands over his eyes. “Mommy, don’t! That’s so nasty!”

You and Lando burst out laughing, the kind that made your ribs hurt and your heart feel full.

“Okay, you two,” you said, wiping your eyes as you sat up straighter. “Time to get moving. I’m in charge of breakfast this morning. And Daddy…” you glanced at Lando with a smug smile, “…is on bath duty.”

Sebastian groaned. “Noooo! He takes forever! He sings and makes it a whole concert!”

Lando threw up his hands. “Hey, those bath-time concerts are award-winning, thank you very much!”

Lyla clapped her hands together and squealed, “Dada!” as she wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling as Sebastian squished himself into the cuddle pile, too.

You watched them — your people. Your chaotic, messy, absolutely perfect morning crew — and for the thousandth time, you felt that deep swell in your chest. Not just love. Not just gratitude.

You moved with ease around the kitchen, the familiar rhythm of cooking grounding you as the smell of cinnamon, scrambled eggs, and warm toast filled the air. The stovetop sizzled softly, and you balanced flipping pancakes with keeping an ear open for the usual chaos that trailed your mornings like a shadow.

Lyla was happily soaking in the tub just down the hall, her rubber duckies bobbing lazily across the sea of bubbles. You could hear her humming to herself, splashing now and then, her high-pitched giggles bouncing off the tiled walls. Meanwhile, from the adjacent bedroom, came the sound of father and son negotiations — or, more accurately, a fashion debate.

“All the girls are gonna want me looking this good!” Sebastian declared proudly, his voice echoing slightly through the open doors.

Lando laughed. “You're absolutely right, champ. It’s exactly how I won over your mom.”

You paused mid-stir, brow raised, lips twitching into a half-smile as you rolled your eyes toward the ceiling. “He’s really using that line this early in the morning?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head with amusement.

“She fell hard for the curls,” Lando continued dramatically, fluffing Sebastian’s hair as if he were preparing him for a red carpet event.

“I knew it!” Sebastian said, puffing out his chest in front of the mirror. “Girls love cool hair.”

Back in the kitchen, you moved to plate breakfast with practiced grace, sliding fluffy pancakes onto warm dishes, eggs just the way Sebastian liked — slightly runny but not “gooey” as he insisted — and a few cut strawberries on the side for Lyla. You were used to this: multitasking like a magician with a wand in one hand and a spatula in the other.

Soon enough, the family made their way to the table — Lando drying his hands on a dish towel, Sebastian practically skipping with excitement, and Lyla toddling in behind them, curls still damp and cheeks pink from her bath. You had her sit in her booster seat at the end of the table and gently wrapped a towel around her tiny shoulders to catch any drips.

As she munched happily on her pancakes, you stood behind her, carefully sectioning her hair with nimble fingers, your voice low and soothing.

“Let’s try something cute today, hmm?” you murmured, twisting soft little curls into a half-up bun, securing it with a gentle clip that matched her tiny shirt — a pale blue one with little clouds on it.

“She looks like a doll,” Lando said with a grin, watching as Lyla turned to flash him a syrupy smile, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

“Dada,” she giggled, smearing her fingers on her tray.

“Okay, helmet?” Lando said, turning back to Sebastian and tapping into race dad mode. “Gloves? Shoes? Suit? Water?”

Sebastian nodded along confidently, his mouth full of toast. “Helmet, check. Gloves, check. Suit, double check. And I already put my water in the bag. See?” He held up a small bottle with cartoon lightning bolts on it, grinning as Lando gave him a mock salute.

“You’re on it, little champ,” Lando said, reaching out to tousle his hair again — carefully, of course, so as not to undo the masterpiece they had just created.

You finished pinning Lyla’s bun, stepping back to admire your handiwork before letting out a soft sigh. “You two go over that list every morning like you’re heading into space instead of a kart track,” you teased, raising an eyebrow as you leaned on the back of Lyla’s chair.

Lando leaned back in his seat, throwing his arm casually around Sebastian’s shoulders. “Well, we could be astronauts. You never know what kind of traffic we’ll hit on the way.”

Sebastian laughed. “Space traffic!”

You shook your head, chuckling. “Mmm, sounds like someone’s been watching too much sci-fi with their dad.”

“Never too much,” Lando said with a wink. “Besides, if he’s going to be the youngest world champion in karting history, he’s got to be prepared for everything. Meteor showers. Tire punctures. Mid-race alien invasions.”

“You two are hopeless,” you said, brushing a crumb off Lyla’s bib before leaning down to kiss her cheek. She turned to smoosh her pancake against your chin in response.

“See?” Lando said, watching the sticky chaos unfold. “This is why you’re in charge of breakfast, and I’m in charge of bath-time concerts and emotional support.”

“You do bring the chaos and the comedy,” you said, laughing as you wiped your chin with a napkin.

Lando stood and stretched, his shirt rising just slightly over his stomach as he groaned like an old man. “Alright, team. Finish up, grab your things, and let’s get this show on the road!”

Sebastian hopped up with an enthusiastic, “Yes, sir!” and darted off to find his shoes.

Lando leaned in as you helped Lyla down from her seat, planting a kiss at your temple. “We make a good team, huh?”

You smiled, glancing down at your daughter’s syrup-stained curls. “The best.”

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Sebastian sat in the backseat with his head leaned gently against the window, his dark curls freshly brushed and bouncing slightly every time the car hit a bump in the road. He watched the trees blur by, his little face glowing with joy, occasionally pointing out passing birds or funny-shaped clouds. The soft hum of his humming, offbeat and sweet, filled the car like background music to a peaceful morning.

Beside him, Lyla sat in her car seat clutching her plush bunny in one hand, the other rubbing her tired eyes. Her lashes were still damp from her bath, and her tiny mouth hung open in a sleepy pout. You glanced back at her with a soft smile before turning your head toward Lando, your arm resting lazily on the center console as the morning sun spilled into the car.

"You know," you began, your voice quiet and careful, "about that upcoming race… are we gonna talk about it?"

Lando didn’t glance at you — his focus stayed on the road, jaw slightly tightening. His hands adjusted subtly on the wheel, knuckles tensing for just a second. "Not in front of the kids," he muttered, almost under his breath. "Would be nice to just… have a peaceful drive."

You hummed in understanding, nodding slowly. He wasn’t wrong. You’d learned by now that Sebastian didn’t handle his absence well — not even short trips. The kid was emotionally aware, always had been. And as much as Lando tried to explain race weekends and schedules, it always came back to one thing: Why can’t you just stay home with us?

You looked over your shoulder again at Lyla, who was still fighting sleep. Her thumb rested near her lips, and you could see the way her small frame stiffened every time the car rolled past more people on the sidewalks. You sighed.

“She’s already tired, poor thing,” you murmured.

"Yeah, she was that way after her breakfast." He pointed.

You nodded again. “She’s still not comfortable in crowds.”

The car grew quiet. You both hated that part — not because you minded adjusting for her, but because it hurt to see her so afraid of the world. Your arms were her hiding place, your scent the only thing that calmed her when strangers’ eyes overwhelmed her. There were times she'd sob, clinging to you like her life depended on it, and only Lando’s calm voice and protective arms could slowly settle her.

“I still don’t understand it,” you said softly, shaking your head. “We never pushed her. Never forced her into loud spaces or too many people…”

“Sometimes it’s just how they’re wired,” Lando offered, his voice calm but laced with concern. “It doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with her. She’s sensitive. She feels things deeper than other kids. That’s not a flaw.”

You smiled faintly, reaching over to squeeze his hand on the gearshift. “Well, I want you to know… we’ll be expecting you to come home.”

He finally looked at you then, just for a second — his eyes warm and filled with love. “I love my family,” he said firmly. “I'd be a fool not to wanna be home with you guys.”

A peaceful silence fell over the car. You soaked in the moment — Sebastian's quiet joy, Lyla’s sleepy breathing, the comfort of Lando’s presence beside you. The kind of moment you wish you could bottle up forever.

Then your phone buzzed sharply in your bag, breaking the stillness. You glanced at it, saw the name light up on the screen, and tucked it back into your purse without a word.

Lando noticed. His eyes darted to you, then back to the road. “Who was that?” he asked, his tone casual — but just barely.

You exhaled. “You know who’s dad…”

His grip on the wheel tightened slightly. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out ahead, jaw flexing. His shoulders tensed, the kind of reaction that told you he was fighting the urge to say something harsh — not in front of the kids.

“He has no reason to call,” Lando said at last, his voice low, controlled.

You nodded, your lips pressing together. “His excuse is he wants to build a bond with Sebastian.”

Lando scoffed, his laugh bitter and humorless. “Bullshit,” he spat. “Build something with him? Firstly, that’s my son.”

You stayed silent, listening — because you knew what was coming, and he had every right to say it.

“I don’t recall him claiming Sebastian when I came into his life at three years old,” Lando continued, eyes hard on the road. “Where was he then? Hm? When Sebastian was asking why his dad didn’t come to the school play? When he needed someone to tie his shoes or wipe his tears or sit through every damn dentist appointment?”

You reached across the console and laid a hand on his arm. His voice cracked slightly.

“He needs to find someone else to play parent with,” he said, a tremor of protectiveness in his throat. “Because it won’t be my son.”

You let the words linger for a moment, feeling the weight of them settle in the car like dust.

“I know,” you said quietly. “I didn’t answer. I won’t. Not until I know Sebastian is safe. Emotionally, mentally… he doesn’t get to mess with his heart just because he’s feeling guilty or left out now.”

Lando glanced at you again, softer now. “You always protect them.”

“So do you,” you whispered, smiling faintly.

From the backseat, Sebastian’s voice chimed in, unaware of the heaviness in the front.

“Are we almost there?” he asked, kicking his feet happily.

“Almost, champ,” Lando called back, voice instantly warmer. “You ready to win today?”

“Always!” Sebastian grinned.

Lyla blinked her eyes open, her gaze locking on you. You reached back and brushed a curl from her cheek, watching as her face relaxed at your touch.

“Oh! I like this song!” Sebastian piped up from the backseat, his little voice bubbling with excitement.

Lando glanced at the rearview mirror and smirked, reaching forward to turn the volume knob up just a little. “Classic,” he said with a grin, recognizing the tune.

Sebastian immediately started singing along — a little off-key, but enthusiastic nonetheless, his shoulders bouncing with every beat. Lando, unable to resist, joined in, throwing in a dramatic harmony that made Sebastian laugh.

You turned your head to watch the two of them for a moment — your son with flushed cheeks and bright eyes, and the man who’d become his entire world, belting out lyrics like they were the headliners of a sold-out concert.

“You two are something else,” you murmured with a fond smile, shaking your head.

The front of the car erupted in playful chaos, with Lando drumming his hands on the wheel and Sebastian pretending to play air guitar. You pulled out your phone, instinctively hitting record. You captured it — the laughter, the music, the sunlight dancing across their faces — and posted it to your Instagram story with a simple caption: my boys 💛

There was something so peaceful about that moment. You didn’t need anything more. It was messy and loud and filled with love.

When you finally arrived, the hum of excitement still buzzed between all of you. Sebastian jumped out first, eyes wide and full of anticipation. Lando stepped out after him, grabbing the gear bag with one hand and Sebastian’s smaller one with the other. You moved to the back to get Lyla, who was still curled up in her car seat, her bunny clutched tightly to her chest.

You gently lifted her out, her body molding instantly to yours, her head tucking into your neck as her tiny hand gripped your hoodie.

“She’ll be okay,” you whispered softly, kissing her temple.

Lando came around to your side, brushing a hand down Lyla’s back as he looked at you. “It’s just a crowd,” he echoed quietly, as if saying it would make it true. “She’s gonna be okay...we’re here.”

You both nodded, but it was more for yourselves than anyone else.

Lyla whimpered a little as voices swelled in the distance, and you adjusted her in your arms, shushing her gently. You found a seat away from the crowd, tucked near the fence, giving her the space she needed to feel safe while still watching everything unfold.

Meanwhile, Lando led Sebastian toward check-in, walking side by side as if this were their own little pre-race ritual. He helped him unzip the duffle, pulling out the race suit and setting it down over the bench.

“Alright,” Lando said, kneeling down beside him as he began helping Sebastian into his suit. “You got this. I know you do. But remember, don’t push too hard. If someone’s being reckless, let them pass. We’re not here to crash. We’re here to finish.”

Sebastian nodded, his expression serious. “You always say that,” he muttered, pulling one arm through his sleeve.

Lando smirked. “Because it’s true. Some of these kids? They don’t play fair. But you do. You’ve got a good heart, and good instincts. That’ll take you farther than a shortcut ever will.”

Sebastian was quiet as he finished adjusting the suit around his waist, fiddling with the zipper. Lando’s brow furrowed slightly. He knew that silence — it wasn’t focus. It was doubt.

“Hey,” Lando said, crouching down again and lowering his voice. “What’s going on in that head of yours, kiddo?”

Sebastian looked up at him, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “It’s just…” he hesitated. “The other kids… they say I’m only good because of you. That I don’t actually work hard. Some of the parents too. I didn’t mean to listen in but… they talk loud enough.”

Lando’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. He didn’t speak for a moment, processing it.

“They say it’s just handed to me,” Sebastian continued, looking down. “And when I win or do something good, no one really cheers for me… not like they do for the others.”

Lando blew out a slow breath through his nose, trying not to let his anger show too much. He knelt fully now, hands resting on Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice firm but gentle. “You are good because you work for it. I don’t care what any of them say. I help you — I coach you, yeah — but I’m not the one on that track. You are. You’re the one who gets in the kart. You’re the one who focuses. You’re the one who takes what we practice and makes it happen.”

Sebastian’s eyes welled slightly, and he looked away, embarrassed. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m only good because you’re… you?”

Lando shook his head immediately. “No. Absolutely not. You think being my son guarantees anything? You’ve got no idea how hard you’ve worked to be here, how much discipline it takes for someone your age to handle this pressure.”

He smiled gently now, brushing a piece of hair out of Sebastian’s face.

“You’re doing amazing, Seb. And honestly? They’re just mad that you’ve got someone in your corner who believes in you. That’s what they’re really jealous of.”

Sebastian sniffled once, nodding slowly.

“And you know what?” Lando added with a mischievous grin. “When I have you as the face of McLaren in a few years, those same people? They’ll be the ones begging for your autograph.”

That got a smile.

“For real?” Sebastian whispered.

“For real,” Lando said. “Now, c’mon. Let’s show them exactly why you’re the one to watch.”

He offered his fist, and Sebastian bumped it with his own, a new fire in his eyes.

From the stands, you watched the whole thing unfold — Lando kneeling beside Sebastian, talking to him like he was the most important person in the world. And to both of you, he was.

You looked down at Lyla in your arms, her breathing even and her little fingers still clutching her bunny, and kissed her forehead.

You stood near the edge of the karting track, sunlight glinting off the safety barriers, the breeze carrying the smell of fresh rubber and excitement. Lyla sat comfortably on your hip, playing absently with your necklace, her curls a soft halo in the golden light. From your vantage point, you could see everything — the track, the other kids prepping, and most importantly: Sebastian.

His kart zoomed around the bend, hugging the corner with precision beyond his years, and Lando stood tall beside you, his arms folded, pride practically radiating from him.

“God, he looks good out there,” you said with a soft smile, not taking your eyes off Sebastian’s small figure in the kart. “He’s grown so much. His lines are cleaner than they’ve ever been.”

Lando nodded, his mouth twitching into a proud grin. “He’s smoother, more confident... and he’s reading the track. That’s not something you can force into a kid. He wants this.”

You glanced at him, your gaze lingering. “That’s because of you. You’ve been in his corner since the day you met him. He listens to you.”

He exhaled a breath, voice dropping a little. “It’s all him. I just gave him the tools. He did the rest.”

“No,” you said, wrapping your arm through his. “You gave him a dad. That’s what he needed most.”

Lando didn’t answer right away. He simply looked at you with something tender in his eyes — something unspoken but understood. Then, Sebastian flew by again, his kart perfectly balanced as he handled a tricky chicane without flinching.

“He’s killing it,” Lando muttered with pride.

“He’s so little, yet so fearless,” you said with a light laugh, adjusting Lyla who had begun to rest her head on your shoulder. “And he’s got your determination.”

Lando chuckled. “He’s got your heart.”

Sebastian finished another lap, slowing as he coasted into the pit area. His helmet tilted your way, and even behind the visor, you knew he was beaming.

Lando turned to you, taking Lyla gently from your arms and cradling her against his chest. “I’m going to go talk to him — he’ll want to review that last corner. I think he was pushing for a tighter exit.”

You watched him approach Sebastian with warmth in your chest, your boys side by side, your daughter tucked securely in Lando’s arms.

Sebastian pulled off his helmet, his face flushed and glowing with pride. “Did you see me?!” he asked excitedly as Lando crouched down beside him.

“I did,” Lando grinned, ruffling his hair. “You nailed the back corner. That’s the cleanest I’ve seen you take it. I’m seriously impressed.”

“Can we watch the footage later?” Sebastian asked. “I wanna see how I can make my line even better.”

“Of course,” Lando replied. “We’ll break it down, see where you can gain time. But today? You did everything right.”

From where you stood, you could hear their conversation, and it made your heart swell. Sebastian wasn’t just driving — he was growing, thriving, becoming someone with confidence and focus, and so much of that came from Lando’s gentle, steady guidance.

You walked over and knelt beside them. “We saw you out there, baby,” you said, brushing a hand through his curls. “You were incredible. Smooth, fast… and smart.”

Sebastian looked up at you, shy but proud. “Thanks, Mom. It felt really good today. I didn’t even get scared when I had to pass that older kid.”

“That’s because you’re brave,” you said, kissing the top of his head. “And you’ve got the best coach in the world.”

He turned to Lando, grinning. “Can we get ice cream? You said good laps mean good treats.”

Lando chuckled. “I believe I did say that. Alright, one scoop for a good lap... two scoops for a great one.”

“Then I get three,” Sebastian declared with a cheeky smile.

You all laughed as you took Lando’s free hand in yours, his thumb brushing softly against your knuckles. Lyla yawned in his arms, her tiny body curled into his chest like it was her safest place.

Looking at the three of them — Lando kneeling beside Sebastian, Lyla dozing in his arms, the proud look on his face as he juggled being a coach, a father, and your partner — you couldn’t help but feel full. Of love, of peace, of something that felt like forever.

After a successful day at the track, Sebastian chattered endlessly from the backseat, recounting every twist, turn, and overtake he had made during practice. His hands moved animatedly, mimicking his steering, his words tumbling out faster than his kart had gone. You and Lando exchanged soft glances as you sat in the front — it was one of those small, sweet moments that made parenthood feel so full.

“And then I passed him right before the curve, and I didn’t even have to brake that much! I just— vroom— took the inside and boom! Gone!” Sebastian beamed, eyes wide with excitement.

“Don’t have a sugar rush or a sugar crash, mate,” Lando chuckled, giving him a teasing glance in the rearview mirror.

“I won’t,” Sebastian promised quickly, though the giant scoop of chocolate ice cream in his hand said otherwise.

It only took a few more minutes and half a cone before the inevitable happened — Sebastian’s head lolled to the side, ice cream wiped away, his mouth slightly open as he slept soundly. Lyla, tucked in her car seat beside him with her thumb near her mouth and her little bunny plush clutched to her chest, was already out like a light, her soft breaths the only sound beside the hum of the car.

With both kids asleep and the city lights beginning to dim under the setting sun, you turned your gaze toward Lando. His hands rested calmly on the wheel, his eyes fixed ahead, the soft orange-pink hues from the sky reflecting gently off his face.

It was the perfect time to talk.

“So…” you began softly, careful not to disturb the peaceful air. “When do you head out for your race?”

Lando didn’t answer right away. His jaw flexed, barely noticeable, and then he let out a low sigh. “Next weekend,” he muttered.

You frowned slightly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “You’ll be back before Sebastian’s next race, right?” you asked, a little tentative, but hopeful.

He sighed again, deeper this time. “I hope so,” he said truthfully. “I really do. It just depends how the travel and schedule plays out. But I promise you, I’m trying.”

You could hear the frustration behind his voice, not directed at you — never at you — but toward the situation he was tangled in. Racing, family, responsibility... the weight of being in two places at once. You reached over and rested your hand on his thigh gently.

“I know,” you said softly. “We’re not mad, baby.”

Lando’s fingers gripped the wheel a little tighter. “I just…” he paused, searching for the words. “I’m upset. Upset that I’ve got this race and I know I can’t take you guys with me — not because I don’t want you there. But Lyla… she doesn’t like crowds. She gets overwhelmed and anxious, and I’d never forgive myself if she had a meltdown because I forced her into that kind of environment.”

You nodded, heart aching at how much he carried inside. “We know, Lando. You’re always doing what’s best for us. Lyla’s well-being comes first, and Sebastian understands. He might miss you when you're gone, but he knows how much you love him.”

“I just hate not being there,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Putting Lyla down at night, handling Sebastian’s school, meals, practice — it all falls on you when I’m away, and I know that has to get exhausting.”

You turned your body slightly toward him, brushing your thumb over his hand where it rested between gears. “It gets hard, yeah. But I’d do it again and again because this is our life. I love our life, even the messy parts.”

Lando looked over at you briefly, the corners of his mouth lifting just a little.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured. “A real break. Just us. Somewhere warm, quiet, no press, no race schedule. I’ll book it after the next GP. Sebastian and Lyla can stay with my parents — they’ll be spoiled rotten and so happy to see their cousins.”

You laughed under your breath, brushing your hair out of your face as the breeze from the slightly open window caught it. “You’re too sweet for your own good sometimes, Norris.”

“I try,” he smiled, glancing over at you again. “But I mean it. You need rest too, babe. Not just sleep. Real rest. Sun. A slow morning. A long bath. No tiny humans yelling about cereal or needing their race suit zipped up.”

You laughed again, quieter this time, as you looked over your shoulder at the sleeping kids. Sebastian’s mouth was still open, Lyla clutching her bunny with a peaceful expression on her face.

“You’re an amazing dad, Lando,” you said, your voice warm, full of sincerity. “Even when you’re gone, we still feel your love around us. That’s something special.”

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that evening, the sky outside the windows had turned a rich, velvety navy. Inside the house, the atmosphere was warm but quietly heavy — a kind of stillness you felt more than heard. The television murmured in the background, but it barely registered over the small voices drifting from down the hall.

Lando was in the bedroom, packing slowly. His suitcase lay open on the bed, half-filled with race gear, socks, and shirts all folded with methodical care — but he wasn’t focused. Not really. Every few minutes, he paused, sighing softly to himself, glancing toward the hallway like he could feel time running too quickly.

“I can fit here,” Sebastian declared from beside the bed, pointing at the remaining space in the suitcase with a hopeful look on his face. “Right here, next to your shoes. I’ll be still.”

Lando managed a weak chuckle. “You can’t, bud. I’m sorry.”

“But if I curl up really small—”

“Seb…” Lando’s voice cracked just slightly, guilt tugging at his chest. “I wish I could take you, I do. But I can’t this time.”

Before the moment could settle, Lyla toddled over, latching herself around Lando’s leg and hugging tightly. “Dada,” she said in a tiny whimper. She didn’t quite understand what was happening — just that her father had a suitcase out again. And that was never a good sign.

You heard them from the living room and stood, walking toward the bedroom doorway quietly. The second you appeared, Lando looked up at you, and his eyes said everything: I can’t do this… please help.

“Alright, kiddos,” you said gently, crouching down to their level. “Daddy needs to pack. He’s not going for long, but he needs to be ready.”

“I wanna go with him!” Sebastian said again, louder this time, tears pricking at his eyes.

“I know you do,” you murmured, brushing some of his curls from his face. “But you’ve got school, remember? And karting, and Lyla—she doesn’t do well in big crowds, sweetie. So we’ll stay here, and when Daddy’s done with his race, he’ll come right back to us. Just like always.”

Sebastian stood still for a moment, eyes on the floor. His fists were clenched tight at his sides. “But… what if this time he doesn’t?”

The words landed like ice water to the chest. You exchanged a quiet glance with Lando before quickly crouching closer.

“What do you mean by that, baby?” you asked softly.

Sebastian shrugged, jaw trembling.

“Seb… talk to us. What’s going on in that big heart of yours?” you coaxed.

But his silence thickened, lips pressed into a tight line. He shook his head hard and took a step back, eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Sebastian…” Lando started gently, “Hey, look at me, buddy.”

But the boy turned suddenly, wiping at his cheeks and darting toward the door. “I don’t wanna talk about it!” he shouted, voice cracking as he ran down the hallway. His bedroom door slammed a moment later, muffled sobs barely audible behind it.

Lando stood frozen, his hand halfway out like he could reach for him. “Shit,” he breathed, swallowing hard. “I didn’t mean for him to feel like this.”

You moved slowly toward him, Lyla still tucked into your arms as her big eyes watched you both. “He’s scared,” you whispered. “And he doesn’t know how to say it yet.”

“I would never leave him!” Lando said again, his voice strained, eyes shining as he tried to hold himself together. “Not on purpose. Not ever.”

You stepped closer, gently reaching for his hand. “Baby, we know that,” you murmured, voice soft. “He knows that too… deep down. But he’s just… going through a lot right now. He’s young, and this is all a lot to take in. He’s scared, but Lando…” you looked at him with all the tenderness in your heart, “he loves you so much.”

Lando let out a breathy laugh, but it didn’t hold much humor. “So much he thinks I’m trying to leave him on purpose,” he said bitterly, shaking his head.

You felt your chest ache, your heart twisting at the pain that passed across his face. It wasn’t fair — not to Lando, and not to Sebastian. You both tried so hard to give the kids a life full of love and security, and yet somehow, fear still crept in through the cracks.

“I don’t even know where this came from,” you admitted, your voice catching. “What made him say that? Is someone saying things to him? Did he overhear something? It’s bothering me, Lando. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Lando was quiet for a moment, jaw clenched. He hated the unknown of it too — hated that Sebastian was hurting in ways they couldn’t immediately fix.

“Go talk to him,” you finally said, gently nudging his hand. “Before bed. He needs to hear from you. He needs that reassurance. And tomorrow… please, while you’re away, think about how this even happened. Figure out what he’s feeling and why. Because this—” you shook your head, “—this isn’t something we can let fester.”

Lando nodded slowly, pulling you into a tight hug before stepping back with a heavy sigh. “You’re right,” he said. “He shouldn’t have to carry this. Not at his age.”

His feet carried him quietly down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached Sebastian’s room, the soft hum of the nightlight cast little race cars in orange light against the walls. Sebastian was curled up in his race car bed, turned toward the wall, clutching his pillow tightly. His shoulders were trembling, the occasional hiccup giving away his tears.

“Sebastian…” Lando said gently from the doorway.

No answer.

He stepped inside, kneeling beside the bed slowly. “Listen to me, buddy,” Lando said, voice low but steady. “You are my son. Okay? Nothing about that is temporary. Nothing about that is going to change.”

Sebastian sniffled but didn’t respond, his small body tense under the covers.

“I don’t know why you’re feeling like this, or what made you think that I’d leave you. But I need you to hear me — I would never, ever leave you on purpose. This racing stuff… it’s part of what I do. But it’s not more important than you. Or your sister. Or your mom. You three are everything to me.”

Sebastian gave the faintest shake of his head, still not turning around.

“I came into your life when you were just three,” Lando continued, his voice softening even more. “You probably don’t remember all of it, but I do. I remember meeting you. I remember how loud and happy you were, how curious. I remember how your little hand fit in mine the first time we crossed the street together. And I remember thinking, I’m going to protect this kid. Always.”

There was a pause, then a sniff from Sebastian.

“You know… before I met you and your mom, my life was a lot faster than it is now,” Lando confessed. “I was partying, flying everywhere, being wild and selfish and not really thinking about anything long term. But then I met you two… and everything changed. You made me want to be different.”

Finally, Sebastian stirred. His little hand poked out from under the blanket, wiping at his eyes. Lando reached out and rested his hand gently on the bed.

“When I asked your mom to marry me, I didn’t just ask to be her husband. I asked to be your dad, too. Because by then… you weren’t just some kid I was helping raise. You were mine. You are mine. I love you, Sebastian, more than I can explain. You’re my first son. You’re my world.”

Sebastian finally turned over, his face blotchy and red-eyed. “Then why do you keep leaving?” he whispered, voice trembling. “Why do you have to go?”

Lando swallowed hard and reached for him, brushing his hair from his face. “Because that’s part of what I do right now. But it’s not forever. And I promise, I hate being away from you just as much as you hate it. I miss your voice, your jokes, your excitement over karting. I miss bedtime and hugging you goodnight. I don’t leave because I want to. I go because it’s my job — but I always come home. Always.”

Sebastian’s lower lip quivered. “You’re not like my other dad?”

“Not even close,” Lando said, shaking his head firmly. “Your other dad left when things got hard. I stay. I’ll always stay. I don’t care how far away I have to go, you’re my son, and I’m coming back to you. Every single time.”

Sebastian finally launched himself forward, wrapping his arms tight around Lando’s neck. “Okay,” he whispered against his shoulder. “I believe you.”

Lando held him just as tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, eyes stinging.

“I love you, little man,” he murmured. “More than words. And I’m always coming home to you.”

Outside the door, you wiped a tear from your cheek, quietly backing away to give them the moment they both needed. Inside that room, a little boy’s fears began to melt, just a little — warmed by the voice of the man who never once thought of him as anything less than his own.

The house was wrapped in stillness, the soft hum of the night filling the quiet as the children slept peacefully in their rooms. You lay tucked under the covers, curled close against Lando’s chest, his arm draped around you protectively. His warmth, his heartbeat, the calm of being next to him after such an emotionally draining day — it was everything you needed.

Your fingers gently traced circles on his chest, your voice soft as you murmured, “We’ll be expecting that win, you know.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing the top of your head. “I’ll win,” he promised, his tone full of tired certainty. “You have my word.”

You smiled faintly, but your heart was still heavy. “So…” you began, hesitating for a second, “Did he give in? Did he tell you where he heard it?”

Lando’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling slowly as he pulled you a little closer. “No,” he said quietly. “He never told me where he learned it from.” He exhaled sharply through his nose, his frustration evident even in the dim light. “But I’ll figure it out. Someone’s spreading bullshit about him not being my son. I don’t care if it’s some nosy gossip mom at the karting track or someone we actually know... Someone’s putting that idea in his head, and I won’t let it slide.”

You looked up at him, catching the slight furrow of his brow in the soft light from the hallway. He was trying to stay calm — for you, for the kids — but you knew him well enough to recognize the storm brewing behind his eyes.

You sighed, your hand slipping up to cup his jaw gently. “He’s still a kid, Lan. A sensitive one. All it takes is one sentence, one nasty comment… and it sticks. We just have to keep showing him what’s true. Every single day.”

Lando turned his face into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I know,” he murmured. “It just kills me that anyone could make him feel like that. Like he’s not wanted, or not mine. I’ve been there since he was three. I’ve changed nappies, made lunch boxes, sat by his bed when he was sick. That kid is mine.”

Your eyes softened. “I know, love. He knows it too. Deep down, he does. He just needed to hear it out loud tonight.”

Lando looked at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair. “I should’ve said it more. I should say it every day.”

“You say it in how you show up,” you whispered, laying your head back on his chest. “In how you coach him, how you pick him up from school, how you wrestle with him in the living room like an overgrown kid. That’s what he remembers, Lando. That’s what counts.”

He wrapped both arms around you now, tighter than before, and let the silence linger for a moment — the kind of silence that spoke love more deeply than words ever could.

“Let’s just get some sleep,” you said softly, a yawn escaping as you nestled further into his embrace.

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The airport buzzed with travelers and rolling suitcases, but in the middle of it all, Lando stood still, a backpack slung over one shoulder and his race bag at his feet, watching his little family like he didn’t want to blink and miss a second of them. The sunlight streamed in through the massive windows, casting a warm golden glow on the polished floors and the group of you gathered just by the lounge entrance.

You shifted Lyla gently in your arms, her small arms wrapped around your neck and her cheek pressed against your shoulder, peeking every so often only to immediately hide again. Her curls tickled your chin as you smiled, rocking slightly on your feet to soothe her. “I swear, if this airport had a softer carpet, she’d be napping right now,” you muttered, causing Lando to snort.

Sebastian stood at Lando’s side, bouncing on the balls of his feet, full of energy and curiosity. “So you travel with Oscar?” he asked, eyes wide with fascination like the idea of teammates sharing an airport adventure was just the coolest thing ever.

“Yeah, buddy,” Lando nodded with a grin, ruffling Sebastian’s hair. “He’s my teammate. We fly together, practice together, complain about food together…”

“Do you sit together on the plane?” Sebastian cut in.

Lando blinked. “Only if he gets there on time. Otherwise, I claim the window seat and he sulks in the middle.”

You laughed under your breath, the sound bright and warm. “Classic Oscar,” you said with a smirk. “Lyla, you’ll end up liking Oscar. He’s quiet — not many words, very mellow — so he won’t scare you. You could honestly make him your emotional support adult.”

Lyla, predictably, burrowed her face deeper into your neck like you’d just told her Oscar was a walking jump scare. “Okay, okay,” you whispered into her curls, pressing a kiss to her head. “Take your time.”

As if the universe were on cue, Oscar Piastri strolled into view — calm, composed, holding his suitcase like it weighed nothing, dressed in comfy layers and holding a coffee like he absolutely woke up ten minutes before arriving.

“Look who finally made it!” Lando quipped, throwing his arms out. “Only mildly fashionably late.”

Oscar raised a brow, completely unbothered. “Lando, I was on time. You were just here twenty minutes early because you’re emotionally unstable without your family.”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand. “He’s not wrong.”

“I am not emotionally unstable,” Lando protested. “I’m emotionally… organized.”

“Sure,” Oscar deadpanned. “Very organized meltdown last time your daughter FaceTimed you and then hung up mid-sentence.”

Lyla peeked up again, this time catching a glimpse of Oscar, only to retreat immediately. Oscar noticed, offering a small, kind smile and a little wave, like he’d read a guidebook on communicating with toddlers. “Hi, Lyla,” he said gently. “I won’t talk too much. Promise.”

“Uncle Oscar is learning,” you said proudly.

Sebastian, meanwhile, practically threw himself at Oscar, grabbing his hand. “I saw you win that one time and my dad was like, ‘Yeah, yeah, okay, good job’ but I was like ‘LET’S GOOO’ and then I made a drawing of you and I forgot to bring it.”

Oscar blinked. “That’s...very sweet. Also, you should be in PR.”

“Trying to be just like Dad,” Sebastian said proudly, making Lando grin ear to ear.

Lando then reached out, hands open like a kid about to ask for a puppy. “Can I just take Lyla?” he pleaded.

You gave him the most exaggerated look of faux-shock. “Oh sure, let me just hand over our clingy, sleep-fighting, tiny-anxiety-ball daughter to a man who doesn’t even remember to pack his own socks half the time.”

“I remember my socks... now,” he muttered.

You stepped closer, brushing his hair gently back from his forehead. “I know you miss her when you travel. I know you’d take us all in your suitcase if you could.”

Lando's eyes softened, that teasing glint replaced by something real and vulnerable. “I just hate the part where I leave,” he murmured. “Everything else is manageable, but walking away from you three? That’s the worst part of my job.”

You leaned up to kiss him softly, Lyla squirming slightly in your arms as if sensing the emotion. “Go win. Come home. That’s all we ask of you.”

He smiled, wrapping one arm around your waist, kissing Lyla’s cheek, and ruffling Sebastian’s hair one last time. “I’ll bring back souvenirs.”

“Better be food,” Sebastian said.

“Better be diamonds,” you added with a grin.

Oscar sighed beside you both, already done. “Can we please go before you all start crying and I have to stand here pretending not to care?”

Lando threw an arm around his teammate’s shoulder. “Admit it, you love us.”

Oscar shrugged. “You’re...tolerable.”

“Progress!” you cheered.

As Lando began to walk away, he turned back one last time, catching your eyes — a silent promise exchanged between the two of you in that fleeting glance. He mouthed I love you, and you whispered it right back.

And just like that, he was gone for now — but never really gone. Not in the ways that mattered.

Once the plane had taxied down the runway and lifted into the clouds, the familiar hum of the engines filled the cabin, creating that oddly peaceful quiet that only seemed to exist once wheels left the ground. Lando sat back in his seat, letting out a slow breath as he adjusted his cap and glanced out the window for a second — but all he could picture was Lyla’s sleepy little face nuzzled into your neck, and Sebastian’s teary eyes looking up at him just hours ago at home.

He turned toward Oscar, who was already halfway reclined and lazily sipping a ginger ale like they weren’t thirty thousand feet in the sky. “I miss them already,” Lando muttered, not really trying to hide it.

Oscar glanced sideways at him, his expression softening. “Sebastian’s growing up fast,” he said, voice low and thoughtful. “Last time I saw him properly, he was just this tiny three-year-old clinging to your leg, trying to ‘help’ you clean your helmet with baby wipes.”

Lando chuckled, rubbing at his jaw. “Yeah… he’s seven now. Whole personality built in. Witty, quick on his feet, obsessed with racing. It’s like looking in a mirror — except better.” His eyes lingered out the window, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips before it slowly faded. “Y/n’s sad he’s getting older. I am too. He’s not my little guy forever. And then there’s Lyla… she just turned two, and she’s already more emotionally aware than half the grid.”

Oscar huffed a soft laugh, but he could tell from the tension in Lando’s voice that something was weighing heavier than normal.

“What’s eating at you?” Oscar asked gently, setting his drink aside.

Lando hesitated, then rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. “Sebastian’s been… weird lately. About me leaving. He gets upset. He thinks… he thinks I won’t come back. That I’ll leave him like his biological dad did.”

Oscar’s brows pulled together in concern. “Shit,” he muttered. “That’s heavy for a seven-year-old.”

“Tell me about it.” Lando’s voice cracked slightly. “He won’t talk about it much either. Y/n says he’s scared. And I get it, I do. He’s trying to protect himself. But when he said it last night, when he asked if I was leaving like his other dad…” He trailed off, blinking rapidly. “It felt like someone punched a hole through my chest.”

Oscar didn’t interrupt. He just listened, giving Lando the space to vent.

“I’ve given him reassurance, every time,” Lando continued. “I tuck him in, I talk to him about my schedule, I FaceTime them from the paddock, I bring him souvenirs — hell, I’d tattoo his name on my forehead if I thought it’d help. And Y/n… she says I’m doing great. But it doesn’t make it hurt less. I’m not mad at him. I’m just… frustrated. Heartbroken.”

Oscar nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully. “You love that kid like he’s yours. And he is, Lando. You’ve raised him. Anyone with eyes can see that. But he’s old enough now to start feeling uncertainty. He probably overheard something. Or maybe it’s just all these changes, the travel, Lyla being little and needing more attention, growing up in general… it’s a lot for a kid.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. “I hate that I have to filter everything I say or do. Not around him — around everyone else. I hold back online. I avoid talking about him sometimes in interviews. Because the moment people know the full story, they’ll twist it. Gossip about his real dad. Make up stories about me and Y/n. And he’ll hear it. And I can't shield him from all of it forever.”

Oscar gave a solemn hum. “People can hate on you, yeah. But your family’s different. It’s the soft spot. I get that.”

“I don’t care what they say about me,” Lando said, voice tight. “Call me overhyped, say I’ll never be a world champion, criticize everything — fine. But the second they talk about Y/n? About Sebastian? Lyla? That’s my red line.”

There was a silence that stretched for a moment, filled only by the low buzz of the plane.

Oscar broke it with a quiet, honest comment. “You’re a better dad than most, Lando. Hell, you’re a better man than most. Seb will figure that out — if he hasn’t already. Kids are smart, and he’s yours. In the ways that count.”

Lando let out a breath, one hand dragging down his face. “Yeah… thanks, mate.”

Oscar gave him a side glance. “Just don’t cry on me. I can’t handle that mid-flight.”

Lando scoffed and wiped his eye. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

“I’m crying from having to hear about feelings on an airplane,” Oscar muttered dryly.

That got a laugh out of Lando, finally. One that shook the tension loose in his shoulders.

He pulled out his phone, unlocking it and glancing down at the screen where he’d set a lock screen of the four of you at the beach — Sebastian covered in sand, Lyla curled up in your lap, you smiling toward the camera as Lando held it out with wind-tousled hair and a cheeky grin.

He stared at the picture for a long moment before nodding to himself.

“I’ll win this weekend,” he said, more to himself than to Oscar. “For them.”

The familiar winding roads of Monaco stretched before you, the sea glittering off in the distance and the sunlight casting a warm glow across the dashboard. You let out a soft sigh, one hand on the wheel, the other resting gently in your lap as the comforting hum of the car filled the silence. The air was calm, the kind that settled in only after a long morning of goodbyes — the kind that reminded you someone was missing from the seat beside you.

From the backseat, the soft sounds of Sebastian quietly humming drifted forward. He was mumbling the theme song to one of his favorite cartoons, his fingers rhythmically drumming on the armrest beside him. Lyla, tucked snugly into her car seat, swung her little legs gently back and forth, her favorite stuffed bunny cradled in her arms, as her eyes flicked between the sun-drenched buildings outside and her big brother beside her.

You glanced into the rearview mirror, watching them with a soft smile before speaking up. “Alright, kiddos,” you said, voice warm and teasing. “Since Daddy’s off flying through the skies to go race fast cars, how about we go do something fun of our own while he’s gone?”

Sebastian perked up, peeking his head up a little more in his booster seat. “Like what?”

You shrugged playfully. “I don’t know… what if we went skating?”

There was a short pause before Sebastian gave a thoughtful frown. “Mmm… I don’t think Lyla can skate. She’s too tiny. She’d probably fall.”

Lyla, catching on to her name, simply squeaked out, “Fall!” and then giggled, not even understanding but joining in the fun anyway.

You chuckled, glancing at them again in the mirror. “Fair point. Alright, no skating. What about…” You tapped your chin theatrically. “What about Lego shopping?”

The reaction was instant.

Sebastian gasped, eyes lighting up like someone flipped a switch. “Really? We can go today?!”

You grinned. “Of course. We’ll swing by that toy store you love — you know, the one where you always find the big sets hidden in the back.”

“Yes!” he beamed, practically bouncing in his seat. “And Lyla can get a toy too!”

Lyla kicked her legs a little more excitedly now. “Toy!”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “We’ll get you both something, then head home, order pizza — the kind with the stuffed crust that you love — and we’ll set up a movie marathon. I’m thinking popcorn, pillows on the floor, and one of those movies you’ve seen a hundred times but still laugh at anyway.”

“Movie night!!” Sebastian turned toward his sister with wide eyes. “Lyla, we’re gonna have a movie night!”

Lyla clapped her hands, though it was more like soft patting, her stuffed bunny flopping with each motion. “Moobee!”

You laughed, the warmth of their joy radiating through the car and straight into your heart. Moments like these — these tiny, quiet, ordinary ones — made everything else worth it. The tears, the tough conversations, the goodbyes at the airport.

As you slowed at a red light, your eyes caught them again in the mirror — Sebastian now holding his sister’s hand across their seats. It wasn’t perfect, she was barely reaching with her tiny fingers, but he had his arm stretched out, patient and gentle, as she grasped a few of his fingers in hers and smiled.

You felt your chest tighten with that familiar ache of love.

“Hey,” you said softly, eyes on the mirror. “I love you two so much.”

Sebastian gave a goofy grin. “We love you too, Mama.”

Lyla chimed in softly, her voice a little more clumsy but full of meaning. “Lub you.”

And in that moment, as you turned down the street toward the toy store, your heart — though missing one person who was flying far away — felt completely full.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The toy store buzzed with the low chatter of parents and the excited squeals of children, shelves stacked high with colorful boxes and glittering plastic, the occasional jingle of a motion-activated toy going off somewhere in the aisles. You stood beside your children, Sebastian inspecting a complicated LEGO Technic set while Lyla pointed curiously at a plush unicorn that blinked and sang when touched. Her little fingers barely reached the shelf, but she tried anyway.

You smiled, watching them, when a familiar voice interrupted your quiet moment.

“Y/n?”

You turned, blinking in surprise before your face lit up. “The one and only… Alexandra Saint Mleux.”

She laughed gently and stepped forward for a hug, her ever-elegant frame wrapped in a long cream coat, a small designer purse slung over her shoulder. “It’s been ages,” she smiled, her soft French accent still intact despite living in Monaco for so long.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” you admitted as you stepped back. “I figured you’d be flying out to watch the race.”

Alexandra nodded and sighed. “That was the plan, but work got in the way. Some last-minute clients. I’m heartbroken to miss this one… but I’ll survive.” Her eyes wandered to the kids, warm and understanding. “So… how are they doing? You know, with Lando being away?”

Your smile faltered just a bit. “We’re managing,” you said, lowering your voice to a private hush. “Keeping them busy helps. I don’t know how bedtime will go — it never really gets easier, not when they’re used to him doing stories, doing his silly voices and games… but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Alexandra nodded solemnly. “You’re doing beautifully, Y/n. Truly.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your coat pocket. The name on the screen made your stomach knot.

Sebastian’s Father.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, masking the moment with a smile toward Alexandra. “Would you mind staying with them while they pick their toys? I’ll just be a moment.”

“Of course,” she said without hesitation. “Take your time.”

You stepped away from the aisle, finding a quieter corner near a display of puzzles. The buzzing continued in your hand. With a deep breath, you hit accept.

You didn’t wait for a greeting. “Can you stop calling?” you said sharply, keeping your voice low but laced with steel.

A familiar voice crackled on the other end. “Y/n, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. I want to speak to my son.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. “Your son?” you spat, turning your back toward the toy aisle and gripping the phone tighter. “Since when?”

He sighed, as if he was the one carrying the burden. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit back and see pictures of him with some other guy? Videos of him calling someone else dad?”

“Oh, cry me a river,” you snapped, your voice sharp now, tempered only by the awareness you were still in public. “That other guy is my husband. The man who has raised Sebastian with love, patience, and every ounce of care you never had the courage to give.”

“Y/n…”

“Y/n Norris,” you corrected, your voice cold now. “You lost the right to say my name the day you walked out and left me with a baby and no fucking idea what to do. No help. No money. No check-ins. You abandoned us, and now you think you can just call and insert yourself into his life because he’s old enough to form memories now?”

Silence.

“I made every bottle. I held him through every night terror. I worked two jobs while praying I wouldn’t miss another milestone. And then I met Lando — who didn’t have to step in, but chose to. Who didn’t just love me, but loved him. Who tucks him into bed every night he’s home, who taught him how to ride a bike and how to read a clock, and who kisses him on the forehead even when he thinks no one’s watching.”

“You think I don’t regret what I did?” his voice cracked, but you didn’t flinch. “I wasn’t ready—”

“You think I was?” you whispered harshly, voice shaking now. “You think I had a manual for being a mom at twenty-five? You ran. I stayed. And now you have the audacity to ask me to just… hand him over for a chat, like it’s that easy?”

“I just want to talk—”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice final. “He’s happy. He’s safe. And he doesn’t need you to confuse him now that he’s finally finding solid ground. Especially when all you want to do is soothe your own guilt, not actually be a father.”

“I’m his father whether you like it or not,” he hissed.

“No,” you said, eyes burning. “Lando is his father. He’s earned that title every single day, with love, not DNA.”

"I want to see him, speak to him. Sebastian is my son." he huffed.

"Take that up with his father if you feel so brave now, but I'm sure I know Lando's answer."

You didn’t give him the chance to respond. You hit end call, your hand trembling slightly as the call disconnected.

You stood there for a moment, collecting yourself, breathing through your nose as you tucked your phone back into your pocket. A soft noise caught your attention — a giggle from the kids.

You returned to the aisle to find Alexandra kneeling beside Lyla, who was now clutching a soft stuffed fox with velvety fur, her face glowing with delight. Sebastian held the LEGO box like it was made of gold.

“There’s my mama,” Sebastian said with a grin. “Is this one okay?”

You smiled, blinking back emotion. “That one’s perfect, bud.”

“Can we go home now and build it?” he asked.

You nodded, gathering them in close. “Yeah, let’s go home. We’ve got some pizza to order and movies to watch.”

Alexandra gave you a knowing look, a supportive warmth in her gaze.

You mouthed a soft thank you to her.

Time passed like a warm breeze, slow and golden, wrapping around the three of you with the kind of peace you hadn't felt in a while. After the toy store, you’d made a spontaneous day of it — a little ice cream, a detour to the duck pond where Lyla screamed “DUCKIES!” so loudly she startled a few of them into waddling chaos, and a stroll down the pier with the salty sea air brushing your cheeks. You snapped pictures constantly — Sebastian holding up his LEGO box triumphantly, Lyla wearing oversized sunglasses she found in a boutique and refusing to take them off, even a silly selfie with all three of your faces smushed together under the caption: “We miss you already, daddy 💛”

Even though Lando had only been gone since morning, the ache of his absence was already settled in your chest. You could feel it in the way you kept glancing at your phone, like you needed to send another photo, another text — partly for your reassurance, partly for his. Because if you missed him like this, you could only imagine how heavy his heart felt, knowing he left with Sebastian upset, Lyla too little to really understand goodbyes, and you… trying to hold it all together like you always did.

After the duck pond and walk, you stopped by a children’s boutique where Sebastian’s eyes lit up at the sight of a rack full of pajamas. “Can I get the race car ones?” he asked, already clutching them like treasure.

“Of course, baby,” you smiled.

Lyla chose a soft, cottony pink set with little teddy bears, hugging it to her chest with a proud little smile, even letting out a tiny squeal that melted your heart.

By the time the sky started darkening, you were all a little tired but happy — the kind of happy that made the silence in the car on the way home feel peaceful instead of awkward. You chuckled as you helped them out of the car, herding them into the flat.

“Alright, pajamas!” you called, clapping your hands. “Go get them on! I’m ordering the pizza and picking the movie. Then you two can come back in here and play with your toys.”

Sebastian darted to his room, practically airborne in excitement, clutching his pajama set. Lyla, however, clung to your leg like a little koala, dragging her pajamas on the floor behind her.

You gently ruffled her curls. “Come on, you too, missy. I’ll help you get dressed in a minute.”

Your phone rang, buzzing softly in your pocket. When you saw the name on the screen, your heart warmed.

Best Husband 💛

You answered with a smile already tugging at your lips. “My love.”

A tired sigh of relief echoed through the speaker. “God, I needed to hear your voice. Are the kids asleep?”

You glanced toward the hallway where Sebastian was noisily dragging open drawers. “Nope, we just got home. We’ve been out all day. You should see Lyla’s new sunglasses. I swear she thinks she’s a movie star.”

Lando chuckled, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice. “That sounds like her already. God, I miss you all so much… I want to speak to them, if that’s okay.”

But your smile faded slightly, the warmth in your chest twisting into something more uncertain.

“I actually need to speak with you first,” you murmured, tone quiet and serious.

Lando picked up on it immediately. “What’s going on?”

You stepped into the kitchen, glancing over your shoulder to make sure the kids were still occupied. You lowered your voice.

“His father called.”

The line went dead quiet for a few seconds, and then Lando exhaled sharply, almost like he had to physically calm himself. “He what?”

“Said he wants to talk. See him. And you know…” you trailed off, biting your lip. “Same guilt-tripping, same dramatics. He brought up the fact that we post pictures of you and Sebastian together, like it’s supposed to be some crime.”

“He’s an asshole,” Lando snapped without hesitation. “I would prefer he never sees Sebastian again. Period. I know you didn’t block him before — maybe part of you thought one day things could be different, or maybe for Sebastian’s sake… but now’s the time to block him. For good.”

You could feel the raw emotion behind his words — the frustration, the protectiveness, the love.

“I don’t care how selfish I sound, okay? Listen to me,” Lando continued, voice low and tight. “I love him. I love Sebastian like he’s my own. He is my own. And he’s clearly hurt and confused enough as it is right now. The last thing he needs is that man worming his way in and stirring up more shit.”

“I want to say the same thing, honey, I do,” you said softly. “But I think we need to be careful. This didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone planted this idea in Sebastian’s head — someone’s been talking behind our backs, and it’s eating at me. I don’t know if he overheard something or if it’s…”

“The media,” Lando muttered.

“I’ve been thinking that too,” you said. “He doesn’t have access to the internet, he’s seven. But… maybe something slipped through on the TV, or someone said something in public. It only takes one headline. And even if we limit comments, we can’t control everything.”

“I said the same thing,” Oscar piped up from the background, his voice distant but clear.

Lando groaned. “I mean come on — we’re careful. I hardly talk about the kids publicly. And when I do, it’s always vague or safe. I never name names or post anything personal.”

“I know, baby,” you said gently. “But not everyone cares about respecting boundaries. Some people just love digging where they don’t belong.”

There was a pause. You could hear the quiet buzz of the hotel room on the other end — the hum of a minibar, maybe the faint flicker of the TV in the background. You imagined Lando sitting on the edge of the bed, face in his hands, shoulders tight with worry.

“I hate this,” he finally said. “I hate that I’m away and you’re dealing with this. I hate that Sebastian’s even thinking about this. I hate that some faceless asshole behind a screen or a reporter with a notepad can get into my son’s head.”

“He’s just scared, Lan,” you murmured. “But he loves you. I see it every day. And you’re doing right by him — we both are. That’s what matters.”

You could hear him nodding, even if he didn’t speak.

“I ordered the pizza,” you added softly, trying to lighten the mood. “We’re watching Toy Story 2 tonight. Sebastian said it’s your favorite.”

Lando’s voice cracked with a small laugh. “It is my favorite. Tell him I said that’s a solid choice.”

“I will. After they’re in pajamas. Lyla’s currently pretending her leg doesn’t work because she doesn’t want to get changed.”

Lando laughed again, and this time it was lighter, like he was really smiling now. “She gets that from you.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said playfully, and for a second the weight lifted.

“Hey,” he added, voice gentle now. “Thanks for everything. For keeping them grounded… for being you. I know this isn’t easy.”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not. But we’re a team. Even miles away, we’ve still got this. And tomorrow, we figure out what the hell is actually going on.”

“Damn right,” he said. “And I’ll bring back a win, too. Just for you guys.”

You smiled, heart full.

“Then you better buckle in, Norris. Because Toy Story, pajamas, and pizza nights are hard to beat.”

“Impossible,” he replied. “But I’m coming home to try.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Lando being gone wasn’t new.

It was never easy, but it was familiar — a rhythm that ebbed and flowed like the tide. The early flights, the packed bags by the door, the quiet “I love you”s whispered over sleepy heads and soft kisses before the sun even broke the horizon. You’d grown used to the ache, the temporary emptiness of the house. What you never grew used to, though, was waking up and not having him there.

The bed felt far too big without him.

Sebastian had crawled into the middle during the night, tangled in the sheets like a little tornado of limbs and heat. His head rested on Lando’s pillow. Lyla, small and warm, was curled up in the crook of your arm like a kitten, her stuffed bunny pressed against her cheek.

You carefully untangled yourself, slipping out of bed with practiced ease. Neither of them stirred — a small blessing. These were the pockets of peace you counted on. The house was still, the morning light barely filtering through the curtains, and the silence was thick but comforting.

It was always like this on the first morning without him. Quiet. Empty, but full of purpose. You stood for a moment in the bathroom, hands braced on the sink, staring at your reflection. You could see the soft weariness around your eyes, the evidence of another night where you’d reached across the bed and found nothing but cool sheets.

“He’s not gone forever,” you murmured aloud, a mantra, not a reminder. Just a soft truth you whispered to yourself.

You showered slowly, letting the steam loosen your tense shoulders, letting your mind wander. There was always a to-do list playing quietly in the back of your head: school drop-offs, meals, cleaning, playtime, phone calls, maybe a grocery run, and somewhere in the middle of all that — time to feel his absence and push forward anyway.

By the time you wrapped yourself in your robe, hair damp, you were ready. You padded into the living room and curled into the couch with your phone, letting yourself fall into the mindless scroll for just a little while. Social media, messages from friends, a few missed texts from Lando sent at 2 a.m. his time.

Still up thinking about you. Tell Seb I love him. Kiss Lyla for me. I miss my girls.

You clutched the phone to your chest for a second, your breath catching. Then, quietly, you smiled.

After about an hour of peace, you placed the phone on the side table, stood up, and entered the kitchen. The hum of familiarity buzzed in your ears like a song you’d memorized long ago.

You didn’t need to think anymore — your hands just moved. You poured Lyla’s apple juice into her bunny sippy cup. It had a little bow drawn onto it with pink permanent marker — something she insisted on one afternoon when she decided all her toys needed to be “fancy.”

Sebastian’s orange juice went into his dinosaur cup — the same one he refused to drink out of unless it was “the dino one with the T-Rex not the triceratops.” You smirked a little at the thought as you set it on the table.

Then came the rest: pancakes for Lyla, perfectly golden and cut into tiny bite-sized hearts the way she liked them, with a side of blueberries she always pushed to the edge of her plate. For Sebastian, toast lightly browned, eggs just barely runny (any more and he would call them “slime eggs”), and two strips of crispy bacon he’d probably try and feed one to the cat even though you told him not to.

Everything was where it should be. Like muscle memory.

A sound behind you — groggy feet shuffling across the floor.

“Mama?” Sebastian mumbled, his curls sticking up in every direction, pajama pants slightly twisted around his legs.

You didn’t even turn around, just hummed as you flipped the final pancake. “Practice is going to happen soon,” you said softly, ���you know they have to adjust, get themselves ready.”

He climbed onto the stool at the counter and rested his chin on the marble. “I miss him.”

You finally turned, wiping your hands and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Me too,” you said quietly. “But he misses us just as much. Maybe even more.”

Lyla padded out a moment later, dragging her blanket behind her, eyes still puffy from sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you cooed, sweeping her up into your arms.

“Dada?” she mumbled against your shoulder, her thumb slipping into her mouth.

“Soon, sweet girl,” you whispered. “You’ll see him soon.”

As they settled at the table, Sebastian perked up, watching you with those curious brown eyes.

“Are we gonna talk to Grandma today?”

You nodded, glancing at the clock. “We’ve got time. After I drop you off at school, Lyla and I are going to call her. You know she misses you two terribly.”

He grinned a little, the kind of smile only grandmothers could pull out of children. “Can I send her a picture of my dinosaur cup?”

You laughed. “Absolutely.”

It was all clockwork. Predictable. But it still hurt sometimes — to do all of this without Lando, to smile through it even when your chest ached and your throat tightened unexpectedly.

But you managed.

You always did.

Because your kids were watching. Because their little hearts depended on you. Because Lando, miles away and probably staring at a calendar on his phone, counting down the days until he could be back, needed to know you could hold it all together.

And you would.

Just like every other morning.

Motherhood had a way of testing your limits and then rewarding you in small, quiet ways. After you dropped Sebastian off at school — his usual chatter about karting practice and Lego sets still echoing in your ears — the rest of your day unfolded like a long, busy stretch of survival mode. You managed a video call with Cisca, who filled your morning with soft smiles and much-needed comfort. Lyla’s meltdown over her empty bunny sippy cup had you on your knees, trying to calm her down while preparing breakfast and unloading the dishwasher at the same time. It was one of those mornings where time seemed to slip through your fingers.

The car got cleaned, though that required strategic maneuvering with a clingy toddler on your hip. You made a small grocery run, holding her hand tightly while she stared cautiously at every passing stranger. Then you walked her around the quiet park near your building, hoping the fresh air would calm her nerves. And it did — a little. She let go of your hand for all of five minutes before gluing herself to your leg again.

Eventually, you made it back to the flat. You swept and mopped floors, wiped down counters, and sorted laundry while Lyla played quietly with her toys in the living room. She had picked out a stuffed bunny, a wooden puzzle, and one of Sebastian’s smaller race cars — and all three were lined up next to her as she sprawled out on the floor.

And just like that… she was asleep.

Not in her bed, not on the couch — but flat on the playmat, one hand still resting on the toy bunny. Her tiny chest rose and fell slowly, lashes resting like feathers against her cheeks. You stood there for a moment, arms crossed, soft smile tugging at your lips. Then you carefully picked her up, mindful not to wake her, and tucked her into bed. You kissed her forehead, lingered there for a beat, then finally had a moment of peace to yourself.

And that’s when you called him.

The screen rang only once before Lando’s tired but joyful face filled your screen, his curls a little messy under a cap, eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“My favorite girl,” he greeted, voice warm and smooth, as if it could wrap you up.

You let out a small, relieved breath, your shoulders finally dropping. “I was calling just to see if you’re surviving,” you teased lightly, your voice soft, your love clear even in the distance.

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, just about. Got some practice coming up. You know how leading into a race weekend is — mind on a thousand things.”

You nodded. “I figured. Sebastian’s at school, and Lyla’s down for a nap… finally.” You leaned back on the couch, rubbing your temple.

“She’s sleeping a lot lately?” Lando asked gently, concern twitching at his brow.

“Yeah,” you murmured, your smile fading. “I think the anxiety’s wearing her out. I mean, it’s not dramatic all the time — she’s not screaming or crying. But she clings to me like I’m her anchor, and when she’s like that… I can tell her brain’s on overload.”

His jaw tensed slightly, the helplessness setting into his eyes. “I hate that I’m not there. I hate not being able to help her when she’s like that.”

You sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You help more than you know, even just by existing as her safe space. But I won’t lie… it’s getting hard, Lando. I don’t want this to feel normal for her.”

“I know, baby,” he said quietly. “Let’s talk more about getting her a child therapist when I get home. Someone trained in early social anxiety, someone who’ll take it slow. She doesn’t need to feel like the world’s too loud for her forever.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening. “That’d help… thank you.”

There was a brief silence between you — not uncomfortable, just full of unspoken longing — until you finally exhaled again and shifted the conversation.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to lighten the mood, “Sebastian has more practices coming up. I’m hoping you’ll be home in time for his competition.”

Lando’s face softened with guilt. “Yeah. I know. I’m doing everything I can to make sure I’m there. Even if it means I have to sprint off the track and hop on a plane. I’ll deal with the team's reaction after. I won’t miss it.”

“You promise?” you asked, needing to hear it aloud.

He smiled. “Cross my heart. I’m his biggest fan. I wouldn’t miss watching our boy race for anything.”

You felt a swell of affection in your chest, unable to hide your smile. “Good. He’ll want you there — he already asked twice this morning if you’d make it.”

“Tell him yes,” Lando said firmly. “Tell him I’ll be there with bells on.”

You laughed softly, then glanced at the time. “So, um… your mom and I talked earlier. She wants to have Sebastian and Lyla for the summer. Says she misses the chaos.”

Lando’s eyes widened a bit. “I figured she’d bring that up.”

“She’s already planning beach days and movie nights, Lando. I think she’s ready for full grandma mode,” you joked.

“They’ll love being with her,” Lando said with a grin. “They’ll be with their cousins, run around outside, no cameras, no pressure. It’ll be good for them.”

You quirked a brow. “And what will we be doing?”

He leaned closer to the camera, eyes dancing. “Well, I was thinking… maybe I take you somewhere sunny, just us, no responsibilities…”

You laughed again. “You say that, but I know what’s going on in that head of yours. Keep it in your pants.”

Lando feigned innocence, wiggling his brows mischievously. “Mmm, I don’t know, love… baby number three doesn’t sound so bad.”

You gasped, half-joking, half-serious. “Lando Norris! Sebastian is seven and Lyla is two!”

“And?” he smirked. “That’s perfect spacing. You’d be glowing again, and we already know how good I am at naming kids.”

You shook your head, cheeks warm with laughter. “You're unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he added smoothly, gaze softening.

You fell quiet for a beat, letting his words settle in your chest.

“I miss you,” you whispered.

“I miss you more,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse. “But I’ll be home soon. I promise.”

And as the call continued, you found yourself feeling lighter — knowing that even when things felt heavy, you didn’t have to carry it all alone.

“You guys’ll be watching the race, huh?”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “When do we ever miss your races? We watch every single one. Whether it’s on the couch, the tablet in the car, or Lyla yelling ‘Dada!’ at the screen in the middle of the grid walk.”

He laughed softly, his eyes glowing with that boyish charm that never seemed to fade. “You’re gonna be watching me win then?”

You smirked. “We’re going to be watching you win with snacks, and matching shirts, and banners Sebastian insists on hanging from the window like it’s a football match.”

Lando leaned his chin into his palm, clearly imagining it all. “God, I love that. I love you guys.”

“And when you come home…” you started.

“We’ll celebrate,” he said in unison, and your face lit up as you nodded. “All of us,” you added.

He raised a brow with a mischievous tilt of his lips. “So, no just you and me then? No little alone time?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Mr. Norris.”

He laughed at the way you said it, all mock-serious and slightly amused.

He countered with a grin, “Mrs. Norris.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Husband.”

He leaned closer to the camera, eyes soft, teasing, “Wife.”

Silence fell for a beat — the kind of silence wrapped in warmth and longing — before you both let out small, soft chuckles, laughing at nothing in particular, just the comfort of each other.

He sighed gently, his eyes darting away for a second, then back to you. “What is with you wanting another baby?” you asked, arching a curious brow. “Lyla is two. And she’s still in diapers!”

He shrugged, that knowing, cheeky smirk forming again. “I don’t know… I think I’m growing into this whole ‘loving family man’ thing.”

You tilted your head, amused but still listening.

“I mean, I still love going out, hanging with the guys, laughing till we cry — you know that. But something about you, and them…” His voice lowered a bit, softer now. “Something about our life together. I don’t know. It hits different. Like, I never knew coming home to sticky hands and toy cars on the couch would feel better than champagne and lights and music.”

You smiled, hand absentmindedly playing with the necklace around your neck. “You’ve changed. In a good way.”

“I am changing,” he agreed, “but I still love who I’ve always been. I’m just loving this part of me more. The part that watches you sing while folding laundry, or kisses Lyla’s curls when she falls asleep on my chest, or watches Sebastian explain why one dinosaur could totally beat another in a race.”

You chuckled, teary-eyed and full of love. “You’re soft.”

He smirked, “I’m a marshmallow for you. And them. Completely useless without you guys.”

You nodded slowly, eyes glinting with emotion. “We’re useless without you too.”

Then, of course, came the turn.

“And I think I do want another baby,” he added, more serious this time, eyes not leaving yours.

You let out a slow sigh. “Maybe one day, Lando. Maybe when you retire… When you’re actually home more than gone.”

He shrugged innocently. “Mmm, if I can just pull out enough—”

“Lando Norris!” you scolded sharply, eyes wide.

He burst into laughter, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding! I swear. Kind of. Half kidding.”

You narrowed your eyes, trying to suppress your smile but failing.

“I just…” He leaned back slightly, his gaze softening. “I love what we’ve built. I love what we’re still building. And if I’m being honest, even the hard days — the tantrums, the late-night feedings, the exhausting travel — I’d do it all again with you.”

Your breath caught for a moment, a knot forming in your throat as his words settled.

“I’d do it all again with you too,” you whispered.

He exhaled, smiling.

"I have to go, but I love you and you have to watch the race" he said

"we wouldn't miss it for the world"

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The tension had built up for days.

In the quiet stillness of your Monaco flat, it was race day. You could feel it in the air, thick with excitement and nerves. The living room was decked out in your usual Norris-family race day tradition — soft throws on the couch, little flags in the corner, and three matching shirts that read “Team Norris” in bold navy lettering. Lyla had one much too big for her tiny frame, but she wore it anyway, content on your lap, her thumb in her mouth and her wide eyes fixed on the TV screen. Sebastian, meanwhile, was nearly bouncing in place, his eyes shining, his hair still a little mussed from sleep.

You hadn't heard much from Lando since the night before — just a quick "I love you" text with a photo of him on the grid in the early prep stages — but you understood. This was the one. The big one. And you knew where his mind had to be. It still didn’t stop you from missing him.

"He has to win!" Sebastian said again with conviction, this time louder, his feet tucked under the blanket and his eyes already locked on the pre-race footage.

You gave a soft smile, brushing your hand over Lyla’s curls before standing. “Just give it some time, sweetheart. I'll get your snacks — popcorn or goldfish?”

“Both!” Sebastian shouted after you as you headed into the kitchen.

Back in the living room, Sebastian leaned closer to his baby sister, a grin spreading across his face. “Daddy’s gonna win, I just know it,” he whispered like it was a sacred truth. “And I’ll prove my point to Matteo from school, who said Daddy’s only second-best. Hah! Wait till he sees this.”

Lyla blinked at him, offering a toothy grin and a little clumsy clap as she watched the colorful cars roll out onto the formation lap.

Meanwhile, across the world, on the grid.

Lando pulled on his gloves, taking one last breath as the helmet was lowered onto his head. The outside world dimmed.

The engineers around him buzzed with activity, last-minute data checks, and tire temps, but Lando was quiet, focused. One AirPod still in, playing the last voice note you had sent him — Lyla babbling in the background, Sebastian yelling "Bring home a trophy, Dad!" and you, soft and reassuring, saying, “No matter the result, we’re watching, and we’re proud.”

He closed his eyes. That was all he needed.

Oscar passed by with a thumbs up, and Lando nodded, his jaw tight but a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

He climbed into the cockpit, strapping in.

“Radio check,” his engineer’s voice buzzed.

“Radio check, loud and clear,” Lando replied.

“Alright, Lando. You know the target. Eyes forward.”

Back in Monaco…

You returned with two bowls, setting them on the coffee table as the lights on the screen counted down.

“Okay guys… here we go,” you said, dropping to the couch and wrapping one arm around Lyla, the other rubbing Sebastian’s back.

“Lights out and away we go!”

Lap 1-10:

Lando got off to a strong start, holding his position in P2, close behind Verstappen. The first few laps were all about rhythm, getting into the groove. You leaned forward as you watched him maneuver confidently, hugging apexes, defending perfectly from Leclerc who trailed behind in P3.

“He’s doing good, right?” Sebastian asked, clutching a little toy McLaren car in his hands.

“He’s doing amazing,” you smiled, heart pounding.

Lap 11-25:

The tension began to build. Lando was gaining time in Sector 2 — fast, precise, pushing the limits.

Then came the first big move: DRS open, Lando dove down the inside of Max at Turn 4 — bold, committed, clean. He took the lead.

You stood up instinctively, nearly knocking the popcorn bowl over. “Oh my God! He did it!” you gasped, hands over your mouth.

Sebastian jumped up and down on the couch. “HE’S IN FIRST! MAMA! HE’S IN FIRST!”

Lyla clapped again, amused by the yelling more than the race itself.

Lap 26-40:

Pit stops came and went. The team got Lando out just in time to cover an undercut from Carlos Sainz. It was tight, the kind of strategy that made your hands sweat and your heart ache, but it worked.

Lando stayed ahead.

You texted him a quick message even though you knew he wouldn’t see it till hours later: “We’re screaming. In the best way. Keep going, baby.”

Lap 41-55:

Fatigue started to show on track. Tire wear became an issue for nearly everyone — except Lando. He managed his tires like a master, something you knew he’d been working on.

Oscar came up on the radio: “Keep pushing, mate. Clean sectors. He’s not gaining.”

Back in Monaco, you were chewing on a nail, leaning forward, whispering, “Come on, come on, come on...”

Sebastian sat completely still, eyes locked, absorbing everything, while Lyla dozed slightly against your arm.

Lap 56-60:

A late Virtual Safety Car nearly ruined everything — a spin from Tsunoda meant Lando had to hold his nerve for a restart with just four laps to go.

“You got this, baby,” you whispered.

Lando held the restart beautifully.

Max tried to pressure him. Leclerc was still lurking. But it wasn’t enough.

You saw it coming — last lap, still leading, gap stable — and your heart rose into your throat.

Final Lap.

“He’s going to do it, he’s going to do it,” you repeated like a prayer, holding Lyla tighter as she shifted awake.

Sebastian stood tall on the couch, arms raised before the car even crossed the line.

Lando Norris takes the win!

The living room erupted.

You scooped Sebastian into your arms, both of you yelling, laughing. Lyla squealed at the noise, bouncing in your grip as you kissed her forehead.

“That’s your dad!” you said, tears pricking your eyes. “That’s our guy!”

Sebastian was fist-pumping, dancing around. “He did it! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD EVERYONE!”

The energy from the win still surged through Lando like electricity.

Champagne soaked his fire suit, the fizzy scent clinging to his skin, and the weight of the first-place trophy still tingled in his fingers. It had been a long, grueling season, but this moment—this victory—made every drop of sweat, every frustrating finish, every near miss worth it.

He had stood on the top step of the podium, the national anthem ringing in his ears, flanked by rivals who, in that moment, were just shadows in his periphery. He’d closed his eyes as the crowd roared, tilting his head back to the sky, arms raised—this one was for them. For you. For Sebastian. For Lyla.

The after-race buzz carried him into the media pen, where bright lights flashed and microphones lined up like waiting mouths.

He knew the drill. Praise, performance, statistics. But this time, it felt different. More personal.

The interviewer greeted him warmly, microphone in hand, and Lando offered her his usual winning grin, wiping a stray drop of champagne from his cheek.

"That race was amazing! You did good out there, congratulations on your win."

“Ah, thank you,” Lando said, voice steady but still glowing with pride. “We’ve been working hard as a team. McLaren has been putting in the effort. I think this is a result we absolutely deserve. We’ve come a long way and I’m proud of all of us.”

"You made some great overtakes, looked pretty smooth on the track out there,” she added.

He chuckled, brushing a hand through his damp curls. “Yeah, I agree. I did enjoy that. Smooth. Confident. Covered in champagne now,” he added playfully, gesturing to the soaked suit.

The interviewer laughed lightly. “So, onto a serious question—what pushed your focus today?”

Lando’s smile softened. “My family back home,” he said without hesitation. “My wife and our kids. Every time I race, I know they’re watching. That matters more than anything else. My son’s probably bouncing off the walls right now, and my daughter... well, she’s probably clapping and not really understanding why,” he laughed gently.

“Speaking of,” the interviewer said, voice shifting slightly, “Lyla has grown a lot, hasn’t she? She’s your first child, correct?”

Lando tilted his head, surprised. “Lyla’s my youngest. Sebastian’s the first,” he corrected with ease.

The interviewer’s expression stiffened slightly, a subtle shift in tone as she pressed forward. “Right, but... Sebastian isn’t biologically yours, is he? That’s been talked about online a lot. It’s everywhere on social media, so we were just wondering if you could confirm it. Are you... a bonus dad, then?”

There was a pause.

The sparkle in Lando’s eyes dimmed instantly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he simply stared at her. The celebratory atmosphere turned cold.

“Where are you getting your information?” he asked, voice clipped, firm.

She blinked. “It’s all over the internet. Just speculation, and we’ve talked about it before in smaller settings—”

“You’ve talked about it,” Lando interrupted, his tone sharper now. “Without us. Without permission. Without context. That’s not speculation. That’s invasion.”

The camera continued rolling, capturing every twitch of his expression as it darkened.

“I’m sorry,” he said, more composed now but pointed. “What part of this interview gives you the right to belittle my son? Because that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

The interviewer seemed to falter, caught off-guard.

“I don’t race for this,” Lando said, voice steady but seething. “I don’t climb into that car, risk my life, give my everything—just to sit here and hear you disrespect a little boy who’s probably wearing my name on his back right now.”

He took a deep breath, visibly trying to steady the anger that surged beneath the surface. “I’ve been in his life since he was three. I’ve tucked him in every night I’m home. I’ve been at his karting races, holding his helmet, tying his shoes, patching his scraped knees. I’ve wiped his tears and celebrated his victories. That is my son. Period.”

The interviewer tried to speak, “I was just—”

“Digging,” Lando cut her off coldly. “You were digging. For drama. For a soundbite. Let me make something clear. Your job is to ask me about this—” he gestured around the paddock, the track, the microphones—“not about my family. Not about my wife. Not about my children.”

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His words, low and calm, cut sharper than anything else could.

“I’m not a ‘bonus dad.’ I’m just his dad,” he continued, emotion cracking just slightly in his voice. “If you can’t understand that, then you’re not qualified to sit behind that microphone. And if any of you out there are scrolling through my wife’s social media trying to create stories out of our life, just know — it ends here. Her account will be private by tonight, and I’ll make damn sure of that.”

Lando stared her down, jaw tight. “I love my family. I protect my family. You don’t get to question that.”

And with that, he pushed the mic gently aside and turned, walking off, his soaked fire suit leaving damp footprints on the concrete. The cameras followed him, the silence of the interviewer deafening behind him.

At home, you had pulled Sebastian into your lap, shielding him from some of the awkward silence, but he had heard enough to understand that his dad had defended him.

Your heart swelled with love. You pressed your lips to Sebastian’s temple.

“He’s the best,” Sebastian whispered, resting his head against your shoulder.

“He really is,” you whispered back, eyes misty.

And as the screen faded to coverage of the next driver interview, the three of you sat there in silence — proud, warm, protected.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was well past midnight when the front door clicked open.

The Monaco flat was dimly lit, the soft hum of the city outside barely reaching through the thick windows. Lando stepped inside quietly, careful not to let the door slam behind him. He stood still for a moment, shoulders heavy with travel and the weight of the last few days, just breathing it all in.

Home.

It smelled like lavender and laundry detergent. Like calm. Like you.

He dropped his bag gently by the wall, toes sinking into the familiar rug. The place was quiet—so quiet it almost made him hesitate. But then—

“Lando?”

Your voice came softly from down the hall, thick with sleep but unmistakable. He turned toward it just in time to see you stepping out from the bedroom, wearing one of his hoodies, your hair messy, eyes puffy from sleep.

“You’re awake?” he asked, surprised but touched.

You didn’t answer right away. You just walked to him, arms wrapping around his torso as your head found his chest. He let out a long breath, holding you tightly, his hand smoothing over your back like he’d been aching to do it for weeks.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered. “Not till I knew you were home safe.”

He kissed the top of your head, quietly. “I’m here now.”

You looked up at him after a beat. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked gently, brow furrowing.

You swallowed, stepping back just enough to look into his eyes. “For defending Sebastian... in that interview after the race. I watched it live. I—I cried, Lando. You stood up for him like he was born yours. I think you gave him something that day that words can’t explain. Closure. Pride. Love.”

His face softened. “You don’t need to thank me for loving my own kid.”

You took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Come on, sit with me.”

You both moved to the living room, the silence between you filled only with the late-night hum of the world outside. Lando sank into the couch beside you and pulled something out of his backpack—a large envelope.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he said, handing it to you. “But during this trip... I finally did it.”

You opened the envelope slowly. Your breath caught when you saw the words printed at the top of the first page.

Petition for Adoption.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes began to water. “Lando…”

“I want to adopt Sebastian,” he said firmly. “Not just emotionally. Not just in practice. I want him to know, for the rest of his life, that he’s mine. In every way. I want him to carry my name proudly, not just because it’s what he’s always known—but because I chose him. Because he’s my son.”

You blinked through your tears, heart aching in the most beautiful way.

“He is your son,” you whispered. “He always has been, but... yes. Yes, of course you can adopt him. His biological father gave up any rights years ago. This... it’ll just make it official.”

Lando smiled, relief and love rushing over his face like a wave.

“I want him to see his name on paper and know that he was never second choice. That I was never filling a space. That I am his dad.”

You reached for him, pulling him into another hug, both of you holding onto each other tightly.

“He’s going to love this,” you murmured against his shoulder. “He’ll be so proud.”

After a moment, he kissed the top of your head and leaned back, looking toward the dark hallway.

“Where are they?”

“In our bed,” you said with a sleepy laugh. “They didn’t know you’d be home tonight, so they both passed out in your spot.”

Lando chuckled quietly. “Of course they did. I should’ve guessed.”

He stood and stretched, running a hand through his messy curls, then glanced back at you with a tired but happy smile.

“I’ll crawl in beside them. I missed that.”

You nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll put the papers somewhere safe.”

As he disappeared down the hallway toward your shared bedroom, you lingered on the couch a little longer, fingers brushing over the envelope in your lap. The adoption papers felt like more than just forms. They were proof of love, of choice, of a bond deeper than blood.

Lando Norris wasn’t just a driver. He wasn’t just a husband.

He was a father—one who had chosen your son with his whole heart.

And soon, the world would know it, too.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

It was a bright, golden Saturday morning, the kind where the sun felt warmer just from the happiness in the air. The buzz of excitement surrounded the karting track as parents gathered along the fences, kids zipped around in anticipation, and the low hum of engines created a constant vibration in the atmosphere.

You stood at the edge of the crowd, gently rocking Lyla in your arms. Her little fists clung to your hoodie, her face buried against your neck as the loudness of the event overwhelmed her small, sensitive self. Her curls tickled your cheek as she whimpered softly, the noise too much, the people too many.

“I know, baby girl,” you murmured, swaying gently with her. “You’re okay. Mama’s got you. We’re just watching your big brother, and I promise you’re safe. Deep breaths, just like we practiced.”

You could feel her breathing start to match yours, still uneven, but getting there.

Not far away, Lando crouched in front of Sebastian, who stood in his racing boots, looking up at his stepdad with wide, focused eyes. Lando held out the fresh, custom McLaren-orange-and-black racing suit with his name stitched across the chest: Sebastian Norris.

“Here, champ. Get this on,” Lando said with a grin, his eyes gleaming with pride.

Sebastian’s smile was immediate—half excitement, half nerves—as he slipped into the suit with Lando’s help. Lando zipped it up and adjusted the collar, smoothing out the sleeves like he was dressing him for battle.

“Remember,” Lando began, placing a hand over Sebastian’s shoulder, “you’ve got this. You’re fast, you’re smart, and you’re brave. Everything I taught you in practice—that was just guidance. But today? This is your race. It’s your hands on the wheel. You own every second out there. Be proud of yourself no matter what.”

You stepped closer, giving Sebastian a warm smile. “And remember something else too, baby. Even if you don’t come first, we’re always proud of you. You’re our superstar no matter what place you get, okay?”

Sebastian, eyes big with emotion, suddenly launched himself forward and wrapped his arms around both of you, burying his face between you and Lando. It was tight and fast and full of love.

“Love you both,” he said into the hug.

“We love you more,” you both echoed at the same time, grinning.

Just then, a familiar voice called out beside you. “Am I missing anything?”

You turned to see Oscar Piastri, sunglasses pushed into his curls and a grin on his face. He was holding a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, like he’d rushed to get there just in time.

“You showed up at the right moment,” you said, nodding toward the track. “Taking the uncle role seriously?”

Oscar glanced at Lyla, who peeked up at him briefly before hiding again. “Trying,” he said, a little awkwardly, patting her gently on the back like he wasn’t quite sure how to comfort a toddler.

You chuckled. “She’ll warm up to you. She’s got anxiety, so she’s on edge right now, but... just wait. She’s going to adore you. You’re already one of her favorite people—we just haven’t told her yet.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow playfully. “Guess I better live up to it.”

Meanwhile, Sebastian climbed into his kart with Lando by his side. The helmet went on. Visor down. Gloves tightened. It was the kind of moment that made your heart swell—watching a boy take after the man who raised him, inspired by him.

Lando leaned in for one last word, tapping Sebastian’s helmet twice. “Have fun out there, alright? Do it for yourself.”

Then the engines roared.

The race began.

You, Lando, and Oscar stood at the rail, eyes locked on the track. The karts whizzed by, and you could barely keep up with how fast they were moving. Sebastian got a decent start but was caught behind a few karts early on, stuck in the middle pack. Lando’s hands clenched the fence, but his voice remained calm.

“You’re okay, son! You’ve got time. Stay smart, find your line,” he called out.

Sebastian, laser-focused, didn’t respond, but you knew he heard him. You could tell by the way he adjusted his line and began picking up pace. Lap after lap, he pushed harder, smoothly maneuvering the corners and creeping up on the front two.

“He’s holding steady,” Oscar muttered. “Smart kid.”

On the final lap, everything changed.

Sebastian saw the opening at the hairpin—a risky move, the kind Lando had pulled once years ago in Formula 1. With confidence far beyond his years, Sebastian went for it, cutting in sharply and overtaking both drivers with stunning precision. The crowd erupted.

You screamed. “THAT’S MY BABY!”

Lando pumped his fists into the air, grabbing Lyla out of your arms and lifting her up with joy.

“HE DID IT! That’s my boy!” Lando laughed, peppering kisses all over Lyla’s cheek as she giggled, her anxiety forgotten for a moment. “Your brother did it, little bug! This means we’re gonna celebrate!”

You felt your throat tighten with pride as the announcer echoed the final call over the speakers:

“Sebastian Norris takes the win! What an incredible overtake! What a finish!”

Sebastian pulled into the finish area, lifting his helmet off to reveal a glowing, flushed face and the biggest grin you’d ever seen. His eyes searched the crowd—he wasn’t looking for the trophy.

He was looking for his family.

And you were already running.

The day had been filled with celebration—post-race chatter with other parents, Sebastian glowing under the praise, Lyla surprisingly soothed by the familiar warmth of family even in the crowd. You all went out for lunch, somewhere simple and kid-friendly, where Sebastian insisted on ordering the “victory pancakes” and got whipped cream on his nose. Lando let him wear his medal around his neck the entire time.

Now, hours later, the sun hanging gently above the Monaco skyline, the flat was filled with a peace that only came after a day well-spent.

You sat curled up on the couch with Lando, your legs across his lap and his fingers lazily tracing circles on your ankle. The golden glow from the windows bathed the room in light, and across from you, in the display case that Lando had meticulously organized, sat Sebastian’s first-ever karting trophy. It gleamed under the soft light—placed proudly in the center, as if it belonged in a museum.

“We did it,” Lando said softly, breaking the silence with a small, awed chuckle. “He won.”

You smiled and leaned your head against his shoulder, watching the way his eyes lingered on the trophy with that soft fatherly pride that never got old. “He did. And he earned it. You both did.”

Lando looked at you with a grin, then glanced toward the hallway. “He’s been jumping on his bed for the past ten minutes, I swear.”

“He’s seven,” you laughed. “He might still be jumping when he’s seventeen.”

“Honestly, he’s got something special,” Lando said. “Just at seven... imagine what kind of skill he’ll have when he’s older. He’s going to be unstoppable.”

Your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. “I believe it. And Lyla… well, hopefully she picks something a little less... tire-screeching. Maybe something quiet. Like painting or reading books.”

Lando laughed. “Please. I am begging the universe for that.”

“She’s only two and already doesn’t like loud noises,” you reminded him, nodding toward her room where soft music was playing and little clinks of plastic toys could be heard as she played peacefully. “Let’s pray it sticks.”

Lando’s arm slid around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “You still haven’t rewarded me,” he teased, voice low and cheeky.

You raised a brow with a smirk. “Rewarded you for what?”

He grinned. “For raising a champion, obviously. For all my hard work. The late nights. The endless pep talks. The helmet adjusting.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, pretending to consider. “So... what are you asking for exactly?”

His eyebrows wiggled, and you knew exactly where this was going. “Well,” he said, leaning in. “The kids will be asleep tonight... it’ll just be me and you... in our bed...”

You snorted, swatting his chest. “Lando!”

“I’m just saying!” he laughed. “It’s the perfect time to discuss a possible baby number three... maybe even a name list.”

You pulled back, eyes wide and playful. “We are not having another baby, Lando.”

He gasped in mock betrayal. “Mrs. Norris, how dare you deny your devoted husband more offspring!”

You burst out laughing. “You are being needy.”

“And you,” he leaned in to kiss you, “are being difficult.”

Just as you kissed him back, the sweet moment was interrupted by a voice yelling from down the hall: “MOM! DAD! Come look! I made a racetrack out of my LEGOs!”

You looked at Lando, who just gave a breathless chuckle, resting his forehead against yours. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

“Because I’m just... happy,” he said, voice soft. “He’s a Norris now. Really a Norris. Legally. Officially. My boy.”

Your heart swelled at the way his voice cracked ever so slightly at the word my. You reached up to kiss him again, fingers brushing his cheek.

“He always was,” you whispered. “Even before the papers. But now... it’s forever.”

Lando’s lips curved into a proud smile. “Yeah. Forever.”

Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he leaned back and added, “And baby three will be too—”

You grabbed the nearest couch pillow and chucked it at him, hitting him square in the chest.

“Your baby fever is at an all-time high,” you warned, grinning as he laughed and threw his hands up.

“Get it fixed, Norris.”

“Can’t help it!” he said, holding the pillow like a prize. “You made this life too good.”

And somewhere down the hall, a little boy was yelling about tires and turns, a little girl was humming with her toys, and in that living room—surrounded by trophies, laughter, and the soft kind of love that lasts—Lando Norris sat beside his forever family, more proud than he ever imagined he could be.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

TAG LIST: @aunslie

[dresshistorynerd]

Roughly 10 More Cool Historical Queer Figures More People Should Know About

Part 2 - Modern Era

Part 1

Last year I made a post of roughly 10 (emphasis on roughly) earlier historical queer figures, and promised a list of another (roughly) 10 figures. So again in spirit of pride month, I'm delivering you roughly 10 (technically there's 12 or more however you want to count them) more cool historical queer figures.

In the first list I had fucked up the splitting of my list and there were only 8 figures. I had somehow misplaced the first entry here on this list even though time-period-wise it should have been on the first one, but alas it will go here.

The same disclaimers apply here too. This list is centered around western history (but not exclusively) because that's the history I'm most familiar with, though it's definitely not all white, since western history is not all white. I will be avoiding using modern labels, since they are rarely exactly applicable to history, rather I will present whatever we know about these figures' gender, sexuality and relationships. If there's information about what language they used about themselves, I will use that. Often we don't know their own thoughts, so I will need to do some educated guess work, but I will lean towards ambiguity whenever evidence is particularly unclear. If you are the type of person who gets angry with the mere suggestion there's a possibility that a historical gnc person might not have been cis, I encourage you to read my answers to related asks (here and here) first before sending me another identical ask. Try to at least bring some new arguments if you decide to waste my time with your trans erasure.

9. Romaine-la-Prophétesse (c. 1750 - at least 1792)

Romaine-la-Prophétesse, or Romaine the Prophetess, was a Haitian revolutionary and religious leader. It's unclear what pronounce they would have used for themself, so I'll refer to them as they/them. They were assigned male at birth and were born around 1750 in the Spanish controlled Hispaniola as Romaine Rivière to free black parents, possibly of Kongolese origin. By 1772 they had migrated to the French part of the island and become a small coffee plantation owner. By that point they had also met Marie Roze Adam a mulatto woman, who was enslaved in another plantation, where they were likely an employer. Between 1772 and 1777 she gave birth to their three children, who were born into slavery. After meeting their future wife, Romaine spent 12 years working to free her and their children from slavery. They purchased Marie Roze and their children and immediately married her, exploiting a law, according to which marrying her master freed her and any of her children owned by the same master. Romaine became very respected in the area's free black community and they and their wife became godparents to multiple children. Still even after freeing their wife and children from bondage they did own at least two slaves, as did many wealthy free black and mulatto people.

After the French Revolution many of the free black Haitians were radicalized. The French revolutionaries had promised freedom and equality, but while all whites, even the poor ones, gained citizenship, the citizen status of free people of colour was tenuous and black slaves remained slaves. This led to a lot of tensions and fighting, which in 1791 erupted into several uprisings, the uprising of the free people of colour against their discrimination and the slave rebellion. Romaine joined the slave rebellion after a powerful white plantation owner near their plantation gathered troops threatening them and their community. They called upon free black and poor white people in their community outnumbering the white troops, attacked the plantation, burned it down and freed it's slaves. It's a little unclear when exactly, but at least by the revolution, Romaine started to be known as Romaine the Prophetess. They dressed in women's clothing and spoke about being possessed by a female spirit. They became known as both a healer and a prophet. With a saber in hand they preached that God was black - their religious practice and revolutionary politics were very intertwined. Vodou was not yet a formalized belief system, but this was the time when it was taking form as Catholic and Indigenous African and Caribbean beliefs mingled together among Caribbean people of colour. Romaine's religious beliefs seem to also be a mix of Kongolese Catholicism (Catholicism has been a major religion in Kongo since early 16th century) and indigenous West-African religions. This was quite common among Haitian revolutionaries, but there was still a lot of variety.

After capturing and burning the first plantation, Romaine and their growing army of freed slaves, burned multiple other plantations in the area of Southern Hispaniola and freed thousands of slaves. There were excesses of violence as an inevitable consequence of the extreme brutality the slaves had been subjected to (how the Caribbean slaves and Maroons were treated by the Europeans is one of the most nauseating things I have ever read and after that it's impossible for me to condemn anything they did afterward to their oppressors). Eventually most of the wealthy free black people turned against Romaine and the slave revolt and pressured them to go into peace treaty with the French. By that point they had enough of the upper hand that they managed to keep control over large parts of the province. However, the peace would not last and eventually Romaine and their troops were defeated by the French in 1792. Romaine's family was capture, but they apparently managed to escape and was said to have continued preaching, however there's no other record of them after that. Haitian Revolution was eventually after a decade successful and made Haiti the first state to entirely abolish slavery.

10. We'Wha (1849–1896)

We'Wha was a Zuni, Indigenous American Pueblo people from Zuni River Valley, a potter, a weaver and a cultural ambassador. They were a lhamana, a third gender category in Zuni culture. The lhamana are usually amab people, who take both masculine and feminine characteristics and perform both feminine and masculine roles in the community. It's unclear what pronouns We'Wha would have used in the English language, so I will use they/them. At the time of We'Wha's birth the Zuni had managed to stay away from colonizers and continued their traditional livelihoods and religious practices. But the Zunis had their first interactions with the colonizers, who brought smallpox, which killed many of the villagers, including We'Wha's parents, after which they and their brother were adopted by an aunt. US tried to gain control of New Mexico - in 1877 they established Zuni Reservation and begun a policy to assimilate Indigenous People to the industrial American society by converting them to Christianity. Which is why in 1878 missionaries arrive to We'Wha's village. They became the missionaries' domestic servant and learned English. The missionaries left from the village in 1881, without managing to force their culture and morals on the villagers.

During the missionaries' stay at the village, We'Wha befriended Matilda Coxe Stevenson, an ethnologist, who recorded a lot of Zuni culture with the help of We'Wha. Matilda and her husband invited them to visit Washington D.C. with them. We'Wha used the opportunity to meet with president and form good relationship with the US government in order to protect the independence of their tribe. 6 years after their visit to Washington D.C., they were arrested. US soldiers had tried to interfere with the internal community trial of the Zuni and arrest their elders. We'Wha had resisted the soldiers and ended up in jail for a month.

Today Zuni people are surviving centuries of genocide as well as one can. Halona Idiwan’a, or Pueblo of Zuni, the Zuni reservation and homeland, has a sizable Zuni population. There's 9 500 speakers of Zuni language, most of who live in Halona Idiwan’a. The traditional religion is also still practiced by the Zuni. In early 2000s Zuni people successfully opposed a coal mine, which was planned near Zuni Salt Lake, a sacred site in Zuni lands. To this day they are still opposing colonial intervention.

11. Edward Carpenter (1844-1929)

Edward Carpenter was from a wealthy English family. He was a writer, poet, philosopher, socialist, early gay rights activist, prison reformist and animal rights activist. He wrote much about Uranians, term for queer men, which he used as a term for all queer people. He argued for non-medicalized view of queerness, and didn't just argue that it should be tolerated, but that it was a natural human trait beneficial to humanity. He had multiple relationships with men thorough his life, and had a particular preference for gruff working class men. As a 58 years old he met 36 year old George Merrill, a working class man, and the two fell in love. George moved in with Edward and they lived together for almost 40 years, until George died suddenly. Edward was devastated and shortly after suffered a stroke and died as well.

12. May Morris (1862-1938)

May Morris was English Arts and Crafts artist, designer artisan and socialist. Her father was William Morris himself, the father of the Arts and Crafts movement, and her mother was Jane Morris, muse and model of Pre-Raphaelite art. May was a very influential embroiderer. She was active in the movement and founded Women's Guild of Art when Art Workers' Guild did not admit women. She was married to a man, the secretary of the Socialist League, for 8 year, despite her mother's disapproval of him, but eventually divorced him. In 1917 her life long relationship with Mary Lobb begun. Mary cross-dressed but used feminine terms. She loved dogs. She moved into May's countryside Arts and Crafts cottage with the guise of being May's gardener, but eventually they were openly a couple. They traveled together for hiking trips, for example to Iceland many times.

13. Renée Vivien (1877-1909)

Renée Vivien was a mentally ill lesbian poet, Sappho enjoyer (a woman of culture) and a cat lover. She had a profound homoromantic childhood friendship, mommy issues and was melodramatic about women. She would have done numbers on Tumblr dot com. She was English, but lived most of her life in France with the money she inherited from her rich father at a young age. All her relationships were quite dramatic. She left the homoromantic friendship with Violet Shillito for a hot American actress Natalie Barney, after which the friend died of typhoid fever and Renée separated with Natalie because she was sure she had killed Violet with a broken heart. Next year in 1902 she started an affair with a married Jewish Baroness Héléne von Zuylen. They had to keep their relationship discreet because of Héléne's position, but it continued for years and Renée considered them to be married. Still when she got a letter from a secret admirer, wife of a Turkish diplomat, French-educated Muslim woman, Kérimé Turkhan Pasha, she started a secret affair with her too. They had only brief encounters, but exchanged a lot of passionate correspondence. Renée was not willing to leave Héléne, but eventually in 1907 Héléne left her for another woman. Next year Kérimé ended their relationship, as she relocated to St. Petersburg with her husband. Renée took all that as well as the average poet. She abused alcohol and drugs more than she had before and attempted suicide in a way I can only describe as on brand. She overdosed on opium, stretched on her divan and placed a bouquet of violets over her heart. Her commitment to the symbolism was real. In all seriousness she was not well. Her substance abuse and disordered eating had deteriorated her health and tragically complications of her mental illnesses would claim her life only a year later.

14. Lucy Hicks Anderson (1886–1954)

Lucy was Black American born in Kentucky to a working class family and assigned male at birth. From a young age she insisted that she was a girl and wanted to wear dresses. Her mother took her to a physician, who suggested that she should allow Lucy to present as a girl and raise her as such, which she did. Lucy left school at age 15 to support herself by working as a domestic servant. As an adult she would move around and work in the service sector and as a chefs, get married and move to Oxnard, California. After divorcing her husband in 1929 she bought a boarding house with her savings, and used is as a front to operate a brothel and illegal liquor business during the prohibition. She became a local socialite and hostess with a lot of influence in the high society. She was on that grindset. Her influential connections got her out of jail, when her brothel was exposed. After that she married a her second husband in New York in 1944, Reuben Anderson, a soldier. They returned to Oxnard, where she resumed her brothel operation. In 1946 a sailor claimed to have caught a venereal disease from her brothel, so even she was forced to undergo a medical examination, during which her masculine sex characteristics were discovered and she was accused of fraud for "lying" about her sex in her marriage license. In the court she said:

"I defy any doctor in the world to prove that I am not a woman. [...] I have lived, dressed, acted just what I am, a woman."

She and her husband were convicted and both put in men's prison. To add to the cruelty, she was forbidden to wear women's clothing. She survived the ordeal and was freed in 1950, after which she moved with her husband to Los Angeles and they lived quietly together until her death.

15. Amelio Robles Ávila (1889-1984)

Amelio Robles Ávila was a Mexican revolutionary colonel and decorated war hero. He was born to a middle class farmer, who owned 42 hectares of land, and afab in Xochipala, Guerrero. He was sent to girl's Catholic school, but showed interest in masculine pursuits from an early age, becoming very proficient in running of a ranch. Even before adopting a male presentation or becoming a soldier, he was known as an excellent marksman and rider. He joined the revolutionary Zapatista army between 1911 and 1912, still presenting as a woman. The Zapatistas were formed as a response to the military dictatorship under general Porfirio Díaz, who ruled from late 19th to early 20th century. Prior to the Porfiriato there was still significant Indigineus Nahua population in Central Mexico, where people lived largely in Nahua villages and worked communally owned land. During the dictatorship though communal landownership was undermined and land was centralized to haciendas, which were a type of grand estate used broadly in Latin America as brutal colonial enterprises. This sparked a revolution, led by the Zapatistas, who sought land reform and fought the military dictatorship with guerilla warfare.

Two years after joining the Zapatistas, Amelio started to present as a man and demanded to be respected as such. And mostly he was, by his family as well. He was accomplished in the army and eventually gained his own command of over 300 men. He fought till the end of revolutionary period in 1920, and returned to put down a counter-revolutionary rebellion in 1923. After his army career he settled down, and in 1930s he married Ángela Torres, with whom he adopted a daughter, Regula Robles Torres. He was a widely known to be trans and so when his birth certificate was falsified so he could legally adopt his daughter, it was probably a favour from the government. At some point after the revolution, a group of men tried to do a hate crime on him and "expose" his anatomy, but he killed two of them in self-defense, as he should. In 1948 he received a medical certificate, where it was confirmed he had 6 (six) bullet wounds, to officially enter the Confederation of Veterans of the Revolution. And finally in 1970 he was officially recognized by the state as a male veteran (veterano) of the Revolution and received several awards for his distinguished military service. He died as a 95-year-old revolutionary hero and certified chad. There is a story that in his deathbed he asked to be dressed in women's clothing when he was buried to face God's judgement, but this is likely a baseless rumor, since he also apparently asked in the same breath honours for his military service (which he had already received) and according to his death certificate he had lost the ability to speak before his death.

16. Alan L. Hart (1890-1962)

Alan L. Hart was an American physician, radiologist and novelist, who made significant advancements to tuberculosis treatment and was the first transman to medically transition in US. He was afab and was born in 1890, but very early on expressed a strong desire to be a boy, which was largely accepted by her parents and grandparents, who let him present as a boy and referred to him in masculine ways. However, when he attended school he was required to dress as a girl, though outside it he continued to presenting as a boy. In medical collage he was still forced to present as a woman. He was very unhappy that his female name was used in his medical degree when he graduated, since it meant he had to continued presenting as a woman for jobs or be outed as a "sexual invert". Right after his graduation though in 1917 (when he was still presenting on his first job as a woman, but outside it as a man) he sought medical transition. His doctor agreed that "from a sociological and psychological standpoint he is a man" and his surgery was completed during the next year after which he legally changed his name and married his first wife Inez Stark. Later, when hormone theraphy became available, he started using testosterone as well. Unfortunately in the same year he was outed by a former classmate and was forced to move with his wife to remote Montana, which was very traumatic for him. Financial troubles and secrecy caused by this outing and relocation put a strain on his marriage and they separated in 1923. Two years later he married his second wife, Edna Ruddick, which would last till his death.

During the same year Alan moved to work in Trudeau School of Tuberculosis in New York to do his postgraduate work, then worked for two years in a sanatorium in Illinois and finally in 1928 received his master's degree in radiology from the University of Pennsylvania. After that he did his career working with and researching tuberculosis, which was the most common cause of death in America still at the time. He developed an x-ray screening method for spotting tuberculosis early on and preventing it from spreading. Using his screening method he led a mass campaign to screen for tuberculosis in Connecticut for 16 years, and similar screening campaigns were then used all over US and the world. This was crucial in ending the tuberculosis epidemics, which had been going on for decades across the world. His method is still the standard used today. During his career he also wrote medical drama fiction and published four novels.

In his will he had directed for his personal photographs and letters to be destroyed, which was his last act of controlling the narrative of his own life, which had been briefly stolen from him, when he had been outed. This was carried out, but even then, a decade after his death, he was reclaimed by anti-trans lesbian groups as a historical lesbian figure. During 1980s and 1990s though trans people and some lesbians, like the Lesbian Avengers, valiantly defended his legacy, protested these lesbian groups and eventually forced them to back down.

17. Willem Arondeus (1894-1943)

Willem Arondeus was a Dutch artist, writer and poet and an openly gay man. Quickly after Neatherlands was occupied by Nazi Germany in 1940, he joined the Dutch resistance. He used his skills as an artist to become a very successful forger. He forged documents for Dutch Jews so they could avoid Nazi detection and escape the occupation with a lesbian resistant Frieda Belingfante. Their efforts were hindered by Population Registration, where the Nazis could verify the documents to be false. So in 1943 they attacked the record archives and managed to blow up the building and destroy 15% of the identity cards. Later though someone betrayed them and Willem was caught by the Nazis. He refused to identify his companions, but the Nazis found his notebook and were able to catch everyone except Frieda. Willem took all the blame for the attack, which is possibly why two of his comrades were given clemency, but the rest 13 and him were sentenced to death. Before his execution he made sure it was known he and two others in the group were gay and said either to a friend or a lawyer:

"Tell people that homosexuals are not cowards."

18. Sister Rosetta Tharpe (1915-1973)

Rosetta Tharpe was born in Cotton Plantation, Arkansas, USA, to black cotton pickers, who were also gospel musicians. She was a young prodigy and started touring as a gospel singer and player at a young age. She is often called the Godmother of Rock 'n' Roll, because of her immense influence to the genre. She was a pioneer of electric guitar technique that would have a massive influence to the development of electric blues and the sound of rock 'n' roll. Her act was provocative, as she combined spiritual gospel lyrics with embrace of sexuality and appearances in nightclubs. She had relationships with men and women and was married several times. One of her more famous sapphic relationships was with another black artist, Marie Knight. Their relationship lasted for five years during which they made music and performed together. They remained friends for the rest of Rosetta's life, and years after her death at age 82 Marie recorded a tribute album for Rosetta.

19 & 20. Tove Jansson (1914-2001) and Tuulikki Pietilä (1917-2009)

Tove Jansson was the creator of Moomins, an artist and a writer. She was born in Helsinki, Finland, to an upper class Swedish-Finnish artist family. She had relationships with both men and women. Her early serious relationship was with Atos Wirtanen, a socialist politician, who inspired Snufkin's character. Her first relationship with a woman was with a married theater director, Vivica Bandler. Tutsik and Lipsik were based on herself and Vivica. In 1956 she started relationship with her life partner, Tuulikki Pietilä, which lasted till the end of her life. Tuulikki was an influential Finnish graphic artist and sister to Reima Pietilä (one half of Pietilä architect pair, my favorite Finnish architects). Tuutikki was based on her. They traveled all over the world and spend their summers on a small rocky island in Pellinki. In 1992 they attended together the presidential independence day party (a big event every year in Finland) as probably the first sapphic couple.

[a-griffin-in-the-sky]

If you can't see how the music industry grooms, exploits, and chews up young women then spits them out for sport then you were never saying “Free Kesha” or “Free Britney” from a place of understanding.

Sabrina Carpenter is a former Disney kid. Just like Britney. Just like Miley. Just like Demi. Just like dozens of girls who were handed a brand before they were handed autonomy.

The fact that people still can’t fathom how external forces,managers, producers, labels, entire corporate machines shape these women's public personas, music, and even personal decisions shows a total lack of basic media literacy and empathy.

You can’t cheer for girls breaking their chains if you mock the ones still wearing them.

Sabrina’s new album is drenched in male gaze but if you look at it and think, “Yep, this was 100% her choice,” while ignoring the industry machine behind her, then you’re being willfully naive.

First rule of misogyny: women are always responsible for what men do.

The album art is bad. Like vintage domestic abuse PSA bad. It's unsettling, and not in an intentional or subversive way just exploitative and hollow. But if your first instinct is to blame her, like she did this all alone with a selfie stick and Photoshop, you’re missing the entire point.

Who was the photographer? The stylist? The makeup artist? The set designer? Who was the man in the photo with her and more importantly, who were the men in the boardroom who signed off on this?

You think a 25-year-old ex-Disney girl walks into a label meeting and gets full creative control? Come on. These images and songs go through layers of executives and marketers before we ever see them. And they almost always cater to a male gaze because men run the machine.

You don’t have to like the art. You can find it tasteless. But blaming her in isolation is just playing into the very system you claim to critique.

feminism is about criticizing the system, not the women who fell victim to it.

sabrina carpenter is not a fucking victim omg. she writes her music and decided to cosplay as a dog. her whole image is being a sexy baby…… why tf are we trying to blame anyone else but her 😭? a lot of women don’t care about feminism. the ultimate goal is to be as sexy as possible to men. sex sells yes, but at some point you have to stop being delusional and realize she’s the one willingly getting on the floor letting a male grab her by the hair. she doesn’t have to do this. but she cares more about money & playing the sexy tradwife role than she does about her impact on women and girls.

once some of u accept that u can’t change other women or continue to accept their bad behavior under the guise of feminism, ur life & approach to feminism will improve i swear

[shiny-jr]

THE CREATOR: chapter two

– Summary: In the Land of Rune, an emperor is unmatched in magic. In a world where one's survival and standing were dependent on magic, you had gotten accustomed to being at the very bottom of the food chain. For being a magicless servant, you could not expect change.

That is, until you discover you are a creator. The rarest type of witch that was previously hunted to near-extinction. The power comes with the ability to create life itself, but it comes at a great cost.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Female reader.

– Note: New feature for this series: the taglist. Hopefully it works?

– Pages: 7

chapter i | chapter ii | chapter iii

TWO BLOODIED HANDS

Mondays were for bedrotting. Instead of the sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of bacon wafting through the air in the humble little two-story abode where (Y/n) and her parents lived, there was the scent of freshly picked blossoms and clicking of clear glass vials. Which is why (Y/n) openly preferred the small yet private lodgings she claimed as a privilege of being the personal servant to Emperor Desire’s student. 

Usually Monday was the one single day she had free of duties, however, today she held herself in attendance. It was the first Monday of the month, just after Final Sunday. The halls were filled with palace staff running about their errands. As she walked at a brisk pace, through the long vertical windows she could spot a number of nobles still lingering about since yesterday. Although they really should’ve gone home by now. 

The chatter floating throughout the halls was exactly what every conversation was on the first Monday of the month. The main event of every Final Sunday, but it wasn’t like just any other Final Sunday, the latest one had the magic prodigy that dwelled in this very palace. 

“I don’t know what they were thinking putting him up against Cenra of all people!” A maid with a familiar face but a name she couldn’t be bothered to remember, sniffed in disdain as she carried about a basket filled with sheets to be washed. “If he had been against any other, he would’ve won and been an excellent knight.” 

(Y/n) paused, stopping behind a corner beside servants quarters where she was out of sight. On the shelves were various ointments and gauze. Carefully she rummaged through the bottles, checking the printed labels and ingredients to pinpoint the most useful one. The tips of her pointed ears were perked, listening to the uninterrupted conversation. 

There was the rustle of blankets being folded, and curtains being brushed by feather dusters. “Well, she was merciful and let the boy live. So he has another chance. Although it will take him at least a year just to get back on the roster. He did deserve a spot, I can picture him as a Black Knight…” 

“Hm, well, if the invocationer boy was trained by Emperor Desire himself, he would’ve no doubt been last night's victor, not the human.” 

The human. They said it as if it were a derogatory insult, and in their mind it likely was. It was easy to pick on the outliers, the magicless servant who aided the only human in the realm. “Cenra deserved that spot more than anyone else, and would’ve defeated anyone they threw at her. Not like you useless bunch would ever understand.” (Y/n) muttered underneath her breath. 

When she walked past the corner with the supplies in arm, the gossiping bunch had stopped to stare at her. They heard her, hadn’t they? Their fists clenched, and the magicless servant merely held the bottles tighter to her chest. It dawned on all of them, what they could do when the hallways were vacant of any witnesses. It had been years since any palace staff or other personnel could get within reach of her. Maybe a few bruises would remind her of old times, when she had no one to protect her and anyone could get away with tormenting her.

(Y/n) leaned her head back, hoping to avoid any marks that would mar her flesh where it was visible. No one would notice if the blemishes could be hidden by the collar of a shirt or the sleeves over her arms. After a few knicks and scratches, they’ll get bored and leave her alone. Really, she should’ve known better by now. The last time this happened was two years ago, and she got a burn for not keeping her mouth shut. 

“Loitering about during shifts?” A familiar voice scoffed. Their gazes traveled over, spotting the one who dared to encroach. Cenra must’ve seen them from across the hall and silently teleported to them in an instant, or she could’ve been lurking about nearby listening closely. Any of those appeared plausible. “The Emperor doesn’t take kindly to those wasting his resources. He doesn’t pay you to gossip all day long and intimidate staff members who are actually pulling their own weight.” 

The two maids backed away, eyes wide and mouths open as they fumble for excuses or apologies. It wasn’t entirely clear upon hearing the incoherencies tumbling from their tongues. While she was used to her liege’s appearance, it was entirely possible that this was the first time either of them had ever been in the presence of a creator witch. Considering the fact that the witch was last publicly seen nearly killing a powerful invocationer wizard and in her training uniform, she would come across as extra terrifying. 

Cenra promptly ignored your presence, scrutinizing the two unfortunate maids who now looked rather pathetic and no longer so intimidating. In all black from neck to toe with a vest of sable dragon scales, the knives strapped to her hips ready for disposal seemed to gleam just a little brighter. Irked by their sad excuse for words strung together to form attempts at a sentence or two, she interrupted, “You’re getting on my nerves. Drop your tasks, leave them for someone else to complete, unless you want to become the next moving targets in my training.” 

“Y-Yes, young Uza.” 

“Right away, ma’am…!” 

The two scattered like flustered fowl flying away in a panic. The last time someone had attempted such intimidation on her was roughly two years ago around the time she was promoted to the position of personal servant of Emperor Desire’s sole pupil. The incidents were common, until the head of staff was torn down and demoted to the very bottom rank. Why? She had no idea, but she always suspected that it was due to the very person currently less than five feet away. 

When Cenra’s gaze traveled over to her servant and friend, instantly she brightened up. That cold piercing gaze became a warm delighted one as her lips curved up into a grin. In a sing-song voice, she greeted, “Hiii. I’ve been looking for you all morning!” 

“That was almost enough to scare me.” (Y/n) admitted with awkward laughter. The interaction she just witnessed would be further proof as to why the human was most deserving of the title of knight, perhaps even as a Black Knight. “Almost as scary as a Black Knight.” 

Raising an amused eyebrow at your words, she actually managed to laugh in turn while her shoulders slumped with her lowered guard. “Those uptight losers? Please. You are looking at the newest knight of the guard! I’m a creator! I’ll be much more important than them.” 

Black Knights were some of the most feared figures in the entire land, directly behind the Advisor, the General, and the Emperor himself. These particular knights were distinct by their black armor and robes that mirrored the appearance of Desire. They were something of a myth, only spotted in the throne room. Even if they were not visible, they were always lingering in the shadows around the Emperor. It’s said that to be one, candidates are trained from childhood and picked off one by one. Their order has been around for longer than anyone can remember. It’s said that a team of Black Knights can take on an entire army and win, although that’s only hearsay. Not that Emperor Desire required special protection anyways. Everyone knew that. 

Cenra would eventually move past that. Yesterday she was a witch in-training, but today she was officially a knight of the royal guard. It was only a short matter of time before she ascended once again, and where did that leave (Y/n)? Continuously stagnant. Destined to remain at the bottom as a servant for all time. If she were lucky, Cenra would bring her along for the journey. People would travel far and wide to see the creator witch at work. (Y/n) would fetch the tools and ingredients along with any other necessary supplies, but her liege would be the one making the real magic happen. Cenra will bring about a new wave of creations for the Land of Rune. 

(Y/n) readjusted the vials and jars in her arms as she resumed her walk, this time with Cenra beside her. The duo kept pace, matching each other’s steps. The magicless with lengthy strides to keep up and the human taking care to do short steps. 

“You really should stop letting them walk all over you.” The witch said, disrupting the peaceful silence they had. Occasionally they bumped shoulders, or rather, (Y/n)’s shoulder bumped the center of her bicep. The black leather boots that matched her training uniform only added to her height. “As much as I’d like to be around you all the time to protect you, it’s just not possible. You know that, right?” 

Pursing her lips, (Y/n) was desperate for a change of topic. Not this, anything but this, because she knew she would just get scolded once again for something that was beyond her control. A glimmer caught her eye, the light reflected off an extra ear piercing she must’ve added recently. The human trait of round ears allowed her to easily wear more rings piercing the shell. Silver curled around her ear like a swirling dragon, each metallic bit shaped with the intricate scales and wings. “You have a new piercing. That’s cool! Let’s try to get matching ones next time––” 

“I’m serious, (Y/n).” Sliding one of the heavier jars out of her arm, she freed up the space so their arms could intertwine as both carried a bit of the burden. Their steps continued, matching pace as they approached the chambers where the new knight dwelled. 

(Y/n) nodded slowly, managing a small smile while she murmured, “I just didn’t want to make a scene. It’s not exactly like I could do much anyways.” 

The sore subject, her lack of abilities. The witch knew this and instantly her expression softened with remorse, the hand of her intertwined arm gently tapped the servant girl’s forearm. “No, no, that’s not what I meant, you know that. I’d never mean it like that! It’s just…” 

“I’m okay, really.” Somehow, (Y/n) managed to keep the smile plastered over her face. The lack of skill was something she normally didn’t discuss often, for obvious reasons. Even in conversations with her parents, the topic was a sore subject. However, with Cenra, it wasn’t as bad. The witch never poked and prodded like she was attempting to find the cause of such a fatal flaw. She could just be content to listen to pointless hour long rants, and be entirely attentive and understanding the entire time. That was the best part. “Besides, it’s not like it matters right now. I’m sure you’ve scared them off, so I won’t have to worry for at least another few years.”

Cenra barely gave anyone the time of day. Their unexpected friendship might’ve begun back when (Y/n) was first assigned to serve her needs. It was a reluctant relationship, and the witch was cold to just about everyone. It took months before the icy exterior began to melt. Every time they met, her eyes looked just a bit brighter and her tone a bit louder. Everyone else did not warrant her attention unless they were her superior. 

Briskly entering her private chambers, she set the jar down on the counter after pushing aside books and scrolls scattered across the hardwood table-top. A sigh escaped her lips. “Fine.” When she stood up, she placed her hands on her hips. “Next time, as in tomorrow, you should definitely come to my training session. You don’t even have to do anything! Just hand me some water every time I sit down or something. I don’t really care what you do, honestly. But it would be nice if you were there. So, want to come?” 

When (Y/n) set all the items on the table, she reached over to place a hand on the witch’s shoulder. Cenra tensed up, going still as she was steadily pushed back into a seat while her friend took the one directly across from her. Their knees were nearly touching. She scowled, “You smell like sweat and dirt.” 

“Duh, I just got back from training! What did you expect?” With a roll of her eyes she grinned in amusement, not moving an inch and letting her do whatever she pleased with her body. “You’re avoiding the question though.”

“No, I’m not…!” With one glance at the array of tools and glass containers, she rolled up the witch’s black sleeves. Deciding to put off changing the gauze from yesterday’s battle for now until after she bathed, it seemed wise to check for extra damage. The dirt smeared on parts of her uniform was a sign as to what her day’s training must’ve looked like. There was a high likelihood she obtained additional injuries, bruises and scratches and the like. Yet somehow her hair and makeup were always impeccable afterwards. The magic of incredible sorcery. “Will the Emperor be there teaching you?” 

Purposefully avoiding eye contact, her eyes honed in on apparently something very interesting like the wallpaper above her bed. “... Yeah.” 

That was all the answer needed. Shaking her head, (Y/n) applied a damp towel, wiping off the dirt and speckles of dried blood from her brown flesh. “Mm, hard pass then.” 

That was one of the very few things they disagreed on: Emperor Desire. Cenra looked to him as if he were her own father, her only teacher, and a god walking among simple mortals. To most, he was just that, like a god. Those heavenly powers he was gifted with defied the very laws of nature, for he was the same just as Cenra Uza, a creator. However, the Emperor had no desire to forge new life. Desire proclaimed that creators were dangerous, which was why there were only four remaining. In the history books, Desire was said to have overthrown the tyrannical empress a century ago, and ordered a mass execution of his own kind, an event merely referred to as Lethiferous. Creators had grown wild, selfish, and cruel to the point they thought themselves as the superior with only their precious creations deserving of life. At least, that’s what the textbooks preached, but (Y/n) wasn’t convinced. It was why the magicless servant was never too keen on seeing him. Not that he was around much to actually be seen by her anyways. 

“But (Y/n)...!” Cenra complained, pouting as she groaned in utter disappointment. Neither mentioned the Emperor. 

“But nothing. I’d rather be doing your laundry and sorting out your spell books than watch you get hurt.” Upon turning over her hands to wipe her palms clean, (Y/n) furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of multiple gashes from her thumb to her pinky in shaky lines. These cuts looked intentional, not caused by training and definitely not by Final Sunday. She had been wearing gloves yesterday. 

Snatching her hands away, Cenra’s eyes were wide as she realized that she was caught. Tightly she clutched her fists, holding them against her chest. 

“... What was that?” 

“Nothing!” 

“No, that was something.” Outstretching her own hand, demanding to see her palms. (Y/n) watched as the witch quickly looked away, the most obvious sign that she was lying. “Liar! You’re hiding something. Let me see. You’re hurt. I’m the only one that can treat it because we both know you’re trash at first-aid and too stubborn to let anyone else help.” When there was no movement from her, no sign she was willing to give in yet, she sighed. “You can tell me about it? I won’t tell. Or don’t. But just give me your hand so I can treat your wounds. It’ll be quick, I promise. I always saved my mom’s specialty elixir here in case you ever needed it.” 

A few seconds passed before Cenra begrudgingly gave in, slowly uncurling her fingers from her fist as the back of her hand lowered onto the outstretched palm in front of her. Her palm faced up, revealing deep red cuts that stretched across the flat surface. Her eyes were glued to the ground, and her voice was like a fleeting whisper, “I can’t…” 

Pausing with the towel and elixir in hand, (Y/n) echoed in confusion, “You can’t…? What?” 

The entrance of her chambers were thick wooden doors sealed shut, the windows were locked. Carpeting over the floors saved the glass bottle containing the elixir, cushioning its fall when the magicless one dropped it upon hearing the witch’s next words. 

“I can’t do it! My blood was supposed to guarantee the ritual worked, but it didn’t! I can’t create!”

Taglist: @spiderfly-tree-rat

[love-bucky-3000]

Been Forever (Bucky Barnes x Reader) 18+

Summary: Bucky can't last after not being touched for so long

WC= ~5.5K

Warnings: smut, needy!bucky (though i dont think i portrayed it well but hopefully you like it), reference to assault but not graphic

a.n: hii second fic in forever. i wanted to write needy bucky so hopefully i did him justice! share and like:)

Bucky shuffled his way into the kitchen area early that morning, cursing his internal clock for waking him up early after a week-long mission. It was an easy mission, but a week-long stay with Walker would drive anyone crazy. Bucky huffed as he went to pour a cup of coffee before realizing the pot was empty. 

“Sorry, I emptied already.” Bucky jumped out of his skin at the sound of Yelena’s voice. She was sitting on top of the dining table, watching him. Widows seem to be the only people that could still scare the soldier. 

“And you didn’t fill it up.. Why?..”

Yelena shrugged and took a drink from a mug that probably fit the whole pot of coffee in it, “Didn’t feel like it.” Bucky shot her a glare before reaching up and grabbing the coffee grounds from the cabinet. Stark had put in automatic coffee makers before leaving the tower but those pods cost an arm and a leg and Bucky just can’t get behind using their budget on something as small as an espresso pod, no matter how much Walker nags him. 

As the coffee brews, Bucky turns and rests his lower back against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Yelena. They sit in silence, comfortable silence, listening to the coffee pot do its thing. Yelena is staring off into the New York skyline, Bucky’s sure she’s thinking of all the paperwork still needed to be filled out from last week’s mission. 

“Ya kno-” Yelena’s voice is cut off by the beep on the coffee machine. Bucky raises his eyebrow in a way that says "continue” as he turns to pour himself coffee.

“You hang out here a lot is all I was going to say.”

Bucky filled his mug as he contemplated her statement.

“Where else am I supposed to go?” He used to hang out with Sam between therapy appointments and missions, but he hasn’t heard from Sam in a while now that he’s thinking about it.

“No, nowhere. I’m just saying I don’t see you get out very often.” Yelena’s voice breaks his thoughts before they start to spiral. Maybe he should call Sam. 

“I do supply runs.”

“The grocery store doesn’t count. When was the last time you, I don’t know” she waved her free hand in the air, thinking of what she wanted to say, “.. had sexual relations?”  

The mug slipped out of Bucky’s hand, thankfully not breaking and only spilling a couple drops of coffee onto the counter top. “Huh? Since when do the Avengers care about other Avengers sex life?” 

“I’m sure Tony did.”

She probably had a point. Bucky rolled his shoulders back and looked out into the skyline. Between therapy, missions, and learning to function as a human again, it’s been a while to say the least. He tried to flirt with Sam’s sister, Sarah, but that only earned him a slap to the head and stern talking to from Sam. He tried to start something with the cashier down at the local bodega where the team gets their after-mission meals from, but the owner, the cashier’s dad, said he would take away their Avengers discount if he tried anything. He was tempted to push it, but the cashier said she was dating someone already anyway and slipped him an extra bag of M&Ms into his bag with a smile. Oh well, Bucky hopes they’re happy.

“So..” Oh right, there was a spider demanding his attention right now. 

“I don’t know, Yelena, you know I don’t remember much from Hydra.” Bucky hoped that bringing up the sensitive topic would be enough to deter the conversation but he forgot who he was talking to.

“I’m talking about since then, James.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at the use of his first name and spun around to look at her. She tried to act uninterested in his answer by picking the polish off her nails, but he knew she wouldn’t let it go. Bucky let out a sigh and tried to rack his brain for the partners he has had. Dot, back in 1930ish, let him touch her breast once before being shipped off to war. Then, well, nothing he could remember. He used to be very familiar with his right hand but even that relationship has fizzled. 

Yelena was watching him again, her nail polish forgotten for the time being. He shrugged and looked out over the kitchen. She gasped and her eyes widened, “you really haven’t been with someone since you’ve been back?” Bucky gave her a “duh” look and finished off the rest of his coffee. “Why do you care?”

“Because, as leader of this team, I vow to make sure everyone is taken care of! You’re tense, I could see it last week!” The New Avengers really didn’t have a leader but Yelena claims to be when she wants something. “I was tense because Walker is a dumbass.”

It was Yelena’s turn to roll her eyes. She hopped off the table and came to stand next to Bucky. They would be shoulder to shoulder if Bucky wasn’t almost a foot taller. “Come out with us tonight, you never do.” The team goes down to the local bar almost every Saturday night. Bucky never went, claiming alcohol doesn’t affect him anymore, which isn’t a lie, but he knew sooner or later they would convince him to come anyway. He guessed now was that time. 

Bucky glanced at her out of the corner of his eye to find her staring directly at him. He sighed and reached a hand up to push his long hair back. He is about due for a cut. 

Finally, he nodded and Yelena hissed out a “Yess!!” then scurried away. Bucky looked at the time on the microwave clock and mentality counted the hours left until he had to face hell. He had about 10 hours to wallow about his decision.

10 hours came and went quickly. Before he knew it, he was showered, his hair was blowdried and shiny thanks to the products Yelena gifted him for his birthday and now he was staring at his all black closet, hoping an outfit would jump out and kill him. 

His eyes scanned the dark garments before settling on dark jeans, a black shirt and his leather jacket. It’s what he wears everyday but this time, he’ll spray cologne on himself to make it a fancy outfit. He grabbed his boots and set out to meet the rest of the crew who left over an hour ago, yelling at him to hurry his ass up.

The streets of New York felt like home to Bucky, but he knew how dangerous the dark alleyways could be. He cleaned Steve off too many dirty gravel grounds to think they were safe. And he wasn’t foolish to think that just because he lived in Stark Tower that the roads were safe outside his front door. 

Bucky made his way down the lit street, checking over his shoulder and down alleyways for any disturbances. The bar was about 5 blocks away, he could make it before having a panic attack. Surely. Therapy tried to fix that part of him but he believes the anxiety was born with him.

Bucky made it about 2 blocks before a scream and some shuffling reached his ears. He was now on high alert, looking for the cause of the commotion. The knife he kept up his sleeve slipped down into his hand as his eyes tracked up and down the street. It was empty of people. “Stop it!! Help me!!” came from just up ahead. It was a woman, Bucky could tell that much. He cautiously stepped towards the alleyway to his right. Bless the serum for sharpening his eyesight in darkness because he could easily see a man push the woman to the ground and cock a gun in her face. 

“Shut up, bitch, before you get us caught.” The man snarled and shook the gun in your face. He stumbled, clearly drunk. Being drunk and waving a gun around isn’t usually a good combo. Bucky strutted forward and grabbed the man’s arm as it swung backwards. Bucky twisted it and the man let out a sharp yelp of pain. Bucky grabbed the gun from the twisted hand and threw it somewhere behind him and pushed the guy to the ground.

He struggled to stand up but Bucky’s boot to the chest stopped him. 

“Come on, man. Nothing going on here, just let us be.” The man was struggling to catch his breath and talk at the same time. Bucky looked over to you who had pushed your back against the dirty wall. 

‘She shouldn’t be dirtying that pretty dress.’ Bucky thought to himself. The short blue dress fits you perfectly. His eyes reached your face and made eye contact with yours. His heart thumped against his chest, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a while. 

Bucky gave a slight uplift to his mouth, a sorry excuse for a smile but that’s all he could manage looking at a pretty girl. Damn, he used to be a charmer. He was about to ask you if you were hurt but the dumbass on the ground let out a groan then threw up. Bucky grimaced and lifted his foot off his chest so nothing got on himself. He looked back at you, who stood up and dusted yourself off, feeling confident that the drunk mess of a man wasn’t going to hurt you anymore, not while Bucky was around. 

He offered you his hand and you took it gently. Bucky could feel you shaking, but he thought better of squeezing your hand. He didn’t wanna scare you off. He led you towards the street light at the end of the alley. People were starting to emerge from the restaurants and bars that lined the streets, dinner time reaching an end. Bucky guided you to a bench outside a closed flower shop and sat you down. He sat down too, not wanting to hover. He watched as your eyes traced over the flower pots sitting next to the bench while you gathered your thoughts.

“Um, thank you for saving me..” your voice was timid and a little shaky but Bucky could see the color coming back to your face, so he wasn’t worried about you passing out on him. He smiled, a genuine smile this time, and shook his head. “It was really no problem, doll. Do you need someone to walk you home?” He internally cringed because of course you wouldn’t want a stranger to know where you lived. He back tracked, “I’m meeting a few friends at a bar down the street. I can get Yelena or Ava to walk you home.” He was a little selfish, but he wanted the extra few minutes with you by walking you to the bar. 

He saw a small smile pass across your lips, seemingly grateful that he offered to send you home with his female friends. You looked up at him and your eyes caught the light of the street lamp above and Bucky’s heart jumped again. What is going on?

“I would like that if you don’t care.” you said. You both stood up and Bucky pointed you to the right, leading you towards the bar. A breeze caught your hair and a waft of vanilla hit his senses and, well, other places. He paused and took a deep breath. No one has ever affected him this much. You noticed him pause and turned back towards him looking at him questionably. He smiled again, this time it probably looked more like a grimace, as he resumed his steps. 

The wind picked up again and Bucky noticed you shiver. One thing he remembered from the 30s is to offer your coat to a freezing gal. He didn’t forget everything. He shrugged off his coat and tapped you on the shoulder. You spun around and looked at him again. Bucky watched as your eyes traveled from his face, down his arm, then rested on the jacket in his hand. “Here, the wind is picking up and I run hot.” He doesn’t know why he told you that, but it made you smile and his heart pick up again. “Thank you..” She put her arms through the jacket and looked at him. Oh, you wanted a name. “You can call me, Bucky.”

 They continued walking and Bucky couldn’t stop staring at you from the corner of his eye. He kept telling himself to stop being a creep but you just looked so damn good in his jacket. It fits you well. You weren't swimming in it. It looked like you owned it and Bucky liked the thought of her owning his clothes more than having them swallow her up. Though he would like to swallow her.

They reached the bar before Bucky could fully form the thought of you wearing more of his clothes. He nodded at the guard at the front and stepped in. The music was low enough to talk over, but loud enough for silence to not be awkward. He found Yelena, Ava, Walker and Bob sitting towards the back. As he was making his way towards them, a large hand clasped his shoulder. “Bucky! You join us tonight! And with such a pretty lady, who is this!” Alexei’s voice boomed in Bucky’s ear. He winced from the sound and at the realization that he forgot to ask your name. Bucky’s wide eyes took in your expression. You looked happy, she was laughing. You reached out a hand to Alexei and introduced yourself.

“Hi, my name is Y/N. Bucky found me in an alleyway a few minutes ago,” you joked.

Alexei’s eyes pinballed between yours and Bucky’s and then busted out laughing. Alexei brought you two to the table and conversation halted at the sight of her. “Bucky made a friend!” The table erupted into cheers and Yelena scooted over to allow you to take a seat. “Join us!” She demanded. 

“Yelena, no, I was just coming to ask if you would take Y/N home.” He didn’t spare any details, but the hard look in Bucky’s eyes made Yelena pause. But you shocked him. He was shocked to see you sit down next to Yelena and introduce yourself to everyone, looking so at home in his jacket. Alexei pulled him down beside him and passed out the drinks he obtained from the bar.

 He kept his gaze on you for the rest of the time, though the bar closed only about an hour after you both arrived. You were cutting up and passing around jokes with his team. In his jacket. And sometimes, your foot would catch his and you would look up at him through your lashes and your lips would curl around the straw in your drink and Bucky’s thoughts would spiral again. He thought of you on your knees, looking up at him just like you are now. Your lips wrapped around something much bigger than that straw. Bucky was currently jealous of that straw.

The bartender signaled for last call and the team groaned. Everyone but Bucky. Bucky has been trying not to cream his pants since you sat down. His zipper is pressed in the perfect spot to rub against his cock every time he was moved and Alexei loved to push him when something was extra funny. Bucky felt guilty. He didn’t know you and you didn’t know him, but he couldn’t help how he felt. 

The team made their way out of the bar so the staff could close, and you hung around Bucky, closely. “Y/N, we can take you home now.” Ava said, gesturing to her and Yelena. Yelena smiled and nodded. Bucky watched as you bit your lip and looked up at him. Good god, he’s not going to make it home. 

“Actually, I was hoping Bucky’s offer of him taking me home was still on the table..” Walker whistled and Bucky shot him a go to hell look before turning his attention back to you. You looked uncertain, scared he was going to turn you down. “Of course, whatever you want.” And he meant whatever you wanted. You could walk him like a dog and all he would do was bark. Your face lit up and you thanked the rest of the team for letting you crash their night. You were met with a chorus of  “anytime!” and a “let me get your number” from Yelena. 

After some goodbyes, you led Bucky down the street, informing him your apartment wasn’t too far away. Bucky gave you a tight lipped smile, mumbling a quick “not a problem, doll” but it was a problem. Because every step he took rubbed his zipper into his hard cock. He attempted to adjust himself after you turned around but he didn’t want to grope himself in public so he just had to deal with it. 

The walk to your apartment was over quicker than Bucky would have liked. You two spoke the entire walk which took his mind off his throbbing erection, thankfully. Bucky walked you up the steps to your apartment door. Bucky was glad to see the security measures in place here, but he knew they were expensive. He hoped you weren't struggling to afford it. The thought of moving you to the tower crossed his mind but he pushed it back. ‘Take her out for dinner first, geez,’ he thought to himself.

“Would you like a cookie? I baked them this morning…” Your voice trailed off and you were looking at him through your lashes again. ‘Fuck me, she bakes too’ he thought. 

Not one to disappoint you, he said yes and his heart thumped at the smile you gave. You led him into your apartment, the entryway opened straight into your living room. It was small but clean and filled with plants. ‘I guess the flowers from earlier calmed her down’ Bucky thought. 

“Take a seat, get comfy, I’ll be back!” You said as you kicked your shoes off. You didn’t take off his jacket and his cock twitched at the thought of taking it off himself. Bucky followed suit and toed his boots off, not wanting to get any mud on the fluffy rug you had underneath the coffee table. Bucky sat towards one side of the couch, leaving you space to sit. He took deep breaths to try and calm his racing heart but all he could smell was vanilla. He couldn’t get enough of it. 

You practically skipped back into the living room with a tray of cookies and settled into the couch, much closer to Bucky than he thought you would. You flipped on the TV to a random channel then turned to Bucky. You offered the tray and he took one. You followed suit, picking one up and taking a bite. You moaned slightly at the taste and the cookie paused halfway between Bucky’s mouth and the tray at the sound. It went straight to his cock. 

You laughed at yourself. “Sorry, I haven’t made these in so long, I forgot how good they were.” You were distracted by the TV and didn’t see how Bucky almost crushed the cookie in his fist. Bucky quickly ate the cookie to avoid any disasters and he’ll admit, it was the best damn cookie he ever had. Bucky mindlessly watched the TV, thoughts of you naked swirling in his head, not helping his boner problem. 

“So..” you startled Bucky out of his racing thoughts. He hummed and turned towards you. You were sitting with your legs tucked under you, the length of the dress showing off your thick thighs. Bucky wanted to die between those thighs. “Eyes up here, soldier.” You giggled and Bucky’s face turned beet red. “S-sorry” he coughed to clear his throat and looked you in the eyes. Your eyes traced his body. The black shirt doing nothing to hide the muscles bulging beneath it. You followed the dip of his abs down to the buckle of his pants, then followed the seam of his jeans to see his trapped cock straining against the fabric. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth as you took in the sight. He was so hard, yet, he wasn’t going to touch you without permission. That warmed your heart and your core.

You watched his cock twitch as you released your lip from your teeth and you glanced back up at him. Bucky had his eyes locked on to you. A bomb could go off and it wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. You could see the longing and desperation in his eyes. You knew who he was. The soldier. You watch the news. When he saved you earlier, the heat prickled at your core just seeing him break that guy’s arm. You didn’t know the guy and thankfully he didn’t hurt you, but you did appreciate Bucky breaking his arm. You were going to take him home to screw after a long week at work, but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself in public and that gave you the ick. Flash forward to now, and you hoped Bucky would be into filling the emptiness of your bed.

“I’ll be honest with you, Bucky. I was going to bring that guy home and fuck him,” Bucky tensed at the mention of the guy who almost hurt you but you settled him with a hand to his chest. Heat spread through Bucky at the contact. Has it really been that long that a simple touch was making him crazy? You continued, “but thanks to you, I won’t be messing around with a boy.” You smirked as you felt his heart rate kick up under your hand. You rubbed his chest and snaked your hand up and around his neck, playing with the strands at the base of his skull. Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, but opened quickly, not wanting to miss a second of what you’re doing. You scooted closer on the couch, your body now pushing against the side of him and your vanilla shampoo filled his brain. 

“I’ve been really lonely these past few weeks, Bucky, and I reallyyy need someone to take care of me, are you the man for that?” You purred against his ear and gently tugged on the strands of hair, testing the waters. Bucky moaned at the sting and you felt his body relax back into the couch, his head falling back into your hand. “I can try..” he grunted out, “but…” he cleared his throat and looked down at you, “it’s been awhile…”. You grinned and cooed at him, “It’s okay, baby, you’ll try your best right?” 

You don’t know where this dominance is coming from, but seeing Bucky almost losing it already to the lightest of touches was enough to turn you to goo. Bucky whimpered and his cock twitched again, “I’ll make you feel good, please.” You rewarded him with a scratch to the back of his neck and climbed onto his lap, your legs on each side of his thighs. Bucky let out a loud moan and gripped your hips, helping you settle. You found his lips, kissing him gently, giving him space to pull away. He didn’t want that. His hand flew to the back of your head, pinning you to him, deepening the kiss. 

His other hand made its way under his jacket you were still wearing and rested on your back. Your hands found their way back to his hair, pulling groans from his mouth with every tug. The kiss only broke because of your need for air and you both were huffing. His hand kept you close and he nosed along your neck, spreading burning kisses across your collarbone and up to your ear where he groaned, “do you know what seeing you in my jacket did to me?” You did, but you shook your head, wanting him to answer. “I’ve been hard for hours, doll. I could blow right fucking now.” 

“Really?” you faked innocence, choosing now as the perfect time to lower your core to his, grinding slowly across his cock. “Fuck!” he groaned out, sounding like you just knocked the breath out of him. You giggled, and trailed kisses of your own across his neck. He let you, leaning his head back to give you more room. You kept your hips moving slowly, his hands now squeezing your hips hard, not stopping you from moving. He was whimpering and moaning, letting out a little “ah ah ah!” and “fuck baby”s as you moved your hips. At some point, he removed your jacket and he took turns biting and sucking on your exposed shoulder. 

You were lost in your own world, listening to his moans and whines about how fucking good your pussy feels on him. You were soaked and you wouldn’t be surprised if his jeans were wet. You were about to lean up and recommend this continue upstairs when a sharp whine reached your ears. It shocked you, thinking you hurt him. Strong arms locked around your waist and you felt Bucky thrust up into hard. Heat spread below you and his cock twitched endlessly. You thought you heard pleas of “I’m sorry, fuck, so sorry” through his moans that were being direced into your neck. You gently brushed your fingers through his hair and told him how good he was making you feel, which just prolonged his orgasm. His hips kept thrusting up into you, rubbing your clit through your panties. ‘Shit, this might make me cum too’ you thought.

Finally, he came back to you. He brought his face out of your neck, he looked embarrassed and upset. He avoided eye contact with you and attempted to set you on the couch beside him. You wouldn’t let him. You locked your legs around his waist and gently tilted his head up to meet your eyes. “Bucky..” 

You watched as his Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed and looked at you. You couldn’t tell if the red on his face was embarrassment or from his orgasm. “Feel better?” You couldn’t help but tease him but you settled the sting with a hard kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, he spoke, “I’m really sorry, doll. I just haven’t been touched in so long.” You didn’t like how ashamed he looked. That was hot as fuck. You brushed the stray strands of his hair out of his face and cupped his cheeks. You gave him a wide smile and kissed him again. Slowly this time. Wanting him to feel how much you liked him.

“Don’t apologise for that, honey. It was hot getting a guy off without lifting a finger.”

He chuckled at that and looked over your face, taking it in. “I guess it’s time I return the favor.” The world spun around as he flipped you on your back flat on the couch. He knelt between your spread thighs and took in your red face, your chest rising and falling with each breath you took and the damp spot on your underwear- which he was honored to find out was the same shade of blue as your dress. He smiled at that. 

Bucky ran his hands up and down your thighs before they came to rest at the apex, right next to where you wanted him the most. You whined out a “Bucky, please” and pushed your hips up towards his touch. Bucky hid a smile by biting his lip and hummed. “What do you want?” Now, he wanted to tease. You whined again and reached down and moved your own panties to the side, using two fingers to spread your pussy open, exposing how wet and ready you were for him to his own eyes. 

Bucky groaned at the sight. “Look at that, baby. You spreading yourself so I can see?” He husked out and removed your hand from your pussy before you could touch yourself more. You whined at the loss of contact but he quickly replaced your fingers with his own. Two of his thick fingers found your entrance, and scooped up some slick, spreading it up to your clit. You blushed as your legs fell impossibly wider. He chuckled at your eagerness and continued to put pressure on your clit. “How’s that feel, baby? Is that better?” You nodded, throwing your head back with a moan. He trailed his fingers back down to your entrance, inserting his middle finger inside. You arch your back into his hand. It’s been months since someone else has touched you there. You tell him such in a moan, and you see his eyes grow impossibly darker. “Good, because I wanna be the only person you’re thinking of right now. I want you to think of me every time you go to touch this little pussy.” 

You moaned and arched your back again, his finger speeding up inside of you. You beg him for more, which he gives with a “only the best for my girl” and inserts his middle finger into the mix and pushes them back in together. The fingers pause once they’re all the way in and you don’t have the time to voice your disappointment as a warm mouth makes contact with your clit. Your hips go to jolt off the couch but his metal hand keeps you in place. 

Bucky starts the suction on your clit at the same time he resumes fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’re moaning, whining and squirming, he’s brought you to the edge so fucking fast that you can’t breath. His fingers nor mouth ease in their actions, forcing you into one of the best orgasms of your life. 

Bucky feels you clinch around his fingers and he moans around your clit in your mouth, fueling the fire in your gut. Your legs are shaking around his head and your hands are attempting to push his mouth away but he only lets up when your whines turn a little pained. 

He sits up and wipes his mouth with the bottom of his shirt, exposing his abs and vline to you. If you weren’t so fucked out, you would admire it more. “You okay, baby? Where’s the bathroom?” You nod and lazily point down the hall. Bucky laughs and gets up. He shushes you when you whine and he comes back quickly with a warm wash cloth. He cleans you up and sets you up against him, rubbing his hands up and down your legs to encourage the feeling to come back to them. You yawn.

“Where’s your bed, doll?” You manage a smirk and point upstairs. He rolls his eyes at your smirk and picks you up bridal style. His smile softens at the way you curl up into him. He finds your bedroom and places you down on the ground after you whine about needing to find clothes. He would rather you be naked but it’s your home, your rules. He watches as you pick out underwear and a big t-shirt and backs up towards the door. You look at him and knit your eyebrows together, “you leaving? You can stay here.” You nod towards the bed. He wants to, but he kinda still has a mess in his pants. You see his hesitation. Then remember. You laugh and grab a pair of boxers from another drawer and throw it at him. His eyebrows shoot up and you explain, “my brother left them here years ago, they’re clean.” 

He looks at the boxers in disgust but he realises that it’s his way of being able to stay. You gesture to the ensuite bathroom and pull the covers back on the bed and get in. Bucky changes and comes back to find you on your side, facing away from the empty side of the bed. He gets in and gently puts his arm around your waist. He relaxes once you mold yourself into his body. Bucky hasn’t slept this well since the war.

[mei-mei-fics]

Your Friendly Next-Door Firefighter

pairing: firefighter!johnny suh x afab!reader

synopsis: your new neighbor was the hottest man you’d ever seen. after a fateful encounter where he saved your life, you decided to go on a date with him to pay him back.

genre: smut + fluff with a pinch of angst

warnings: swearing, fire encounters, mentions of tragic stories, heavy smut, (mainly vanilla sex,) nothing out of the ordinary.

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

The day was beautiful. The sun was beaming and a soft breeze filled the skies on a warm spring day. You were sitting outside on the balcony of your studio apartment on the 7th floor of your apartment building.

Reading a book and sipping away at your drink, basking in the beauty of the sun. It was early afternoon and you were free of work today at your law firm apprenticeship. Thankfully, your lease agreement was manageable, and the rent on this side of town was cheaper than anywhere else in the city you could live.

A pungent smell filled your nostrils as you turned your head to the side and saw your elderly neighbor puffing away at a cigarette. You usually minded your business, not really caring too much about a smoker. But it was killing your vibe, especially today when sitting outside was the only fun thing you wanted to do.

Deciding not to be an inconvenient neighbor, you placed your bookmark in your pages and began to rise from your chair, when you heard a soft yet stern voice fill your ear.

“Excuse me,” rang in your ear as your head turned to match the voice to the face.

Your elderly neighbor looked in your direction, yet right past you. “What do you want kid?” the elder man asked cockily, cigarette still in hand.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head to follow the direction, only to be met with the most strikingly handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He was tall, as fuck. Buff, as fuck. His skin was glowing, his hair was thick and dark. He wore a blue compression shirt and his uniform pants and boots. Your incredibly hot neighbor also was a firefighter. God if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever for you, you didn’t know what was.

The firefighter giggled looking directly at the older man. “I think you’re disrupting our neighbor's peace, I’m sure she didn’t want to enjoy her time in the sun with your cig ashes blowing everywhere,” he pointed out as the man was smoking without an ashtray.

“I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure flicking ashes off your balcony isn’t the safest thing either. Right Miss?” he asked as his head cocked over to your direction, looking for your agreeance.

Your eyes widened a bit as you held your items close to your chest. Your mouth opened ajar to try and speak as you stammered out your sentences. “Hm? Well I mean, I don’t think it’s safe but it’s fine, I can just go inside no big deal,” you sheepishly replied as you turned towards the screen door to your space.

“Hey hey, okay fine whatever,” the older man scoffed as he threw the half-lit cigarette over the balcony, groaning and rolling his eyes at your handsome neighbor. He reluctantly went back inside to his own space. “Fucking kids,” he spat out before closing his door.

You were now awkwardly left outside with your next-door neighbor, leaning over the railing of his balcony. “Thank you, but that really wasn’t necessary,” you softly spoke to the man as you stepped back over to your chair.

The man shook his head over at you. “He was being an asshole for not considering those around him,” he shrugged as he stared over at your now resting figure. “Plus, everyone knows smoking over a balcony is dangerous. He’s too old to be smoking anyways,” he chuckled off.

You joined in with a small laugh and opened your book again. “Uhm, sorry I’m Y/n. What’s your name?” you politely asked the stranger.

He smiled kindly, “My name is Johnny, I actually just moved in about 2 weeks ago,” he introduced himself with a small wave. “I would properly shake your hand but you know,” he awkwardly pointed out the distance between you both.

You smiled back nodding your head and acknowledging his words. “Yeah, I knew you had to be new, I definitely would’ve noticed you sooner,” you shyly admitted as you dug your nose back into your book.

The man chuckled lightly to himself. He dug his hands in his pockets, swaying a bit with the breeze as he analyzed you. Your soft features glow in the sunlight. You were undoubtedly beautiful to him.

“Well, I should be the one to admit that I’ve noticed you since I moved in, “ he confessed matter of factly. “You’re not hard to miss, easily the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time,” he graced with a warm assuring smile.

You nodded along with his words returning a bright smile as your cheeks flushed a faint shade of red. “Thank you, Johnny,” you said as you began to eye his uniform. “Uhm, so you’re a firefighter?” you asked curiously as you pointed out his uniform.

He nodded at your gesture. “Yeah, right up the street actually, I have work in about 30 or so,” Johnny responded as he pointed his head in the direction of the fire department.

You nodded along to his words. “Oh well, I guess I should let you get going hm?” you asked rhetorically. “It was wonderful to meet you though, would love to see you again soon,” you politely bid goodbye with a small wave.

Johnny’s smile never faltered at your kind action, waving as well as he began to walk into the space of his apartment. “I’ll definitely see you again Ms. Y/n,” he assured to as he entered inside.

A relaxing sigh escaped from you once you were sure of him being safe inside his apartment. Your day continued, even though he never left your mind. He noticed you, let alone noticed you first. A guy as handsome and polite came around very rarely, especially in your life.

You didn’t have the easiest time with picking men like Johnny. If you ever got the chance, you knew you couldn’t let him slip away.

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

The next few days went along as usual. Working your apprenticeship at a law firm, coming home after horrible traffic, and winding down with TV and dinner. However, in the past few days, you’ve noticed Johnny more.

In the elevator, you’d see him enter as you exited, or vice versa. He was even taller when you were next to each other, he hovered over you during every small conversation you two had.

He would talk about his job humbly, surprisingly there weren’t many calls in the area. As if everyone was responsible when it came to fire scenarios. Today, you were unfortunately the individual in such a scenario.

You were cooking, you always cooked. Your gas stove was giving you issues tonight, yet all you wanted to make was some pasta. For whatever reason, the flame on your stove wouldn’t catch on fire. You also already had a pot filled with salty water ready to boil.

“Ugh! Come on, fuck,” you cursed to yourself, twisting the knob to your stove to light. You frustratingly twisted the knob multiple times until a flame finally erupted around the pot, causing you to be startled. Startled enough to knock over your pot of water into the flames, an eruption escalated over your stove.

You panicked. The flames engulf your pot, yet do not spread. You couldn’t think, smoke arrived in your small kitchen as you watched the bright light take over.

You screamed and wailed helplessly, not even being able to process what to do. Fortunately, you had a firefighter right next door.

You slipped on your slippers as quickly as you could, running to the door next to you banging rapidly on it.

“Johnny!” you wailed out, looking around for any signs of the fire spreading. “It’s Y/n! I really need your help right now please-“ you rambled out before you were caught off guard by the door swinging open.

Johnny in all his glory stood about in his black-white beater with sweats and sandals on, looking with furrowed brows at your frantic behavior. His hands softly met yours, holding them warmly as he met your gaze trying to calm you down.

“Breathe Y/n, what’s wrong are you okay?” he asked softly as his hands reached to your rising shoulders.

You were breathless and frantic trying to explain to him the situation that was taking place. “Please, my stove is on fire and I don’t know what to do!” you screamed as tears began to stream down your frazzled eyes.

Johnny took a deep breath and nodded understandably. “Do you have baking soda?” he asked almost too coolly. You confusedly nodded your head.

“Where is it? Is it a lot?” he continued asking you, holding your arms a bit tighter. “Under the sink, and yeah it’s a pound bag,” you responded a bit more slowly. “What does-“You were caught off guard once again by his voice.

“Stay here,” he instructed as he ran into your apartment.

You stood in his doorway confused and attempting to catch your breath. You were so stupid. How could you be dumb enough to allow your apartment to almost catch on fire?

Johnny came into your kitchen to see the fire surprisingly smaller than he anticipated. He carefully entered the space, looking under your sink for the said baking soda. Once he grabbed the bag, he opened it as quickly as he could before throwing the contents over the flames.

Repeating this step, the fire was completely put out. He sighed in relief, before cleaning away the baking soda and emptying your pot into the sink.

After a few minutes passed, Johnny met you back in his doorway. “It’s okay Y/n, your stove is fine. Next time a small fire like that happens, just pour baking soda over it,” he lectured as he walked back to your shaken frame.

You sniffled and wiped your tears away embarrassedly, reluctant to meet his gaze. “I’m so sorry, that was so stupid of me,” you apologized to him meekly.

Johnny chuckled a bit under his breath before extending his hand to rest on your shoulder. “Y/n don’t apologize, it happens to the best of us. I’m just glad I was able to help and you’re safe,” he assured before he gripped his cell phone out of his pocket.

He handed it to you with the contact application open, displaying the dial pad. “Here, put your number in. In case you ever need me again or need to talk, I’m here for you,” he requested giving you a gentle smile.

You nodded without a second thought. Take the device, enter the digits, and save the contact as your name. You handed back his phone with a coy smile. “I don’t know how to thank you, Johnny, I owe you one,” you expressed solemnly.

The taller man’s head sparked an idea almost instantly at your remark, the sheepish smile plastered across his face at the thought.

“I’d love to take you out Y/n, I’d love to know more about you if that’s okay with you?” he asked steadily even though his heart felt like it was ready to jump out of his chest.

And so did yours.

You looked in disbelief at his request, yet couldn’t deny the excitement pooling inside of you.

“Oh god, of course, I’d love to go on a date with you,” you, almost too excitedly assured him.

Johnny released a relaxed sigh. “Thank god, I was nervous you didn’t want to for a second,” he expressed as he teasingly held his hand over his heart, erupting a laugh from you.

“How could I say no? You saved my apartment and you’re so handsome, I love my friendly, next-door firefighter,” you giggled placing a warm hand on his broad shoulder.

Johnny’s smile grew even wider at your words. That’s when another one of his ideas struck him, he silently prayed he could be lucky enough to get you on board.

“You know, the fire department loves it when we bring visitors and family or friends out to see our work,” he began as his eyes carefully locked into yours. “I think it would be amazing if you came and I gave you a tour, we could get something to eat afterward?” he added.

You didn’t need to think twice, obviously agreeing with his point and planning out the details of your future date.

“It’s getting late Johnny,” you concluded as you checked the time on your phone. “I’ll go to bed now but, thank you again. Text me tomorrow okay?” you bid as you turned to face the direction of your apartment.

Johnny nodded with a coy smile, eyes never leaving your frame to make sure you safely made it inside. “Goodnight Y/n,” he wished as he opened the door to his place, one foot inside.

“Goodnight Johnny,”

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

What did someone wear on a date to the fire department?!

A pair of jeans and a T-shirt are entirely too casual. It was still a date, you needed to look hot at least to some degree.

Maybe a sundress? Too provocative to wear around his coworkers in your humblest opinion, save it for a future occasion.

You cursed frustratingly to yourself as you rummaged through various items in your closet. Your attempt to find an appropriate, yet jaw-dropping outfit for your date with the hottest man in your apartment complex was almost impossible. To make matters worse, he texted you he’d be ready in 30 minutes, 45 minutes ago.

Noticing the time, you settled on a blouse with thin straps, yet a muted pink color, and some of your favorite blue jeans that were fitted to your liking. Thankfully you made a pedicure appointment not too long ago, brave enough to wear a pair of white sandals and jewelry that complimented the outfit.

Your hair was styled perfectly, not a hair out of place as you managed to put enough hair spray to keep down those fly-aways.

A gentle knock was placed against your apartment door. You took in a deep breath knowing exactly who would it be.

You braced yourself before collecting your purse and your phone, briskly jogging to the door and opening it after rubbing your sweaty palms against your clothing.

There in the doorway stood your handsome neighbor, adorned in his navy uniform shirt as well as his cargo pants and heavy-duty boots. God, who knew that this would be one of the perks of dating a firefighter? His uniform only made him hotter.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greeted with his signature smile, lips pursing as he respectfully sized you up and down. “Your outfit, it’s very pretty on you,” he complimented as he took your hand to spin you around, getting a full view of you.

Your cheeks flushed in response, and you rolled your eyes ever so teasingly at his actions as you ended the spin, hand still in his. “Thank you, Mr. Johnny,” you giggled as you stepped outside the door, locking it behind you. “Are you ready to show me around the department?” you asked with a bubbly tone.

Johnny couldn’t stop smiling if he wanted to. You were adorable. Perfect to him. You hadn’t left his mind since the day he moved in and saw you exit the elevator, yet here he was. Taking you to see his work, the career he was most proud of. The career you had an interest in seeing, even if it was just to make him happy before your real date.

“Of course love,” he acknowledged as he walked you two to the elevator.

The elevator ride was made up of mere small talk, he made some conversation about your apprenticeship and how you just finished law school.

You were smart, and Johnny noticed it in you. One of the reasons he was enamored with you. He noticed you from time to time, coming home from work or leaving the apartment in your business apparel. The heels, the pencil skirts, the blouses. He acknowledged every aspect of you, reading you as if you were a book he desperately wanted to dig into.

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

The drive to the department was short since it was the neighborhood fire department. Johnny parked in the lot adjacent to the area, exiting swiftly to come around the side to open your door and hold your hand to walk you inside.

“Thank you,” you expressed as your fingers interlaced with his. “You’re welcome love,” he graced sweetly. The sweet beam graced your face as he locked his car, leading you to the entrance of the garage where the fire truck was parked.

Leaning by the truck were two men whose eyes caught a hold of you, then back to Johnny with a broad smirk. The shortest of the three came over to pat Johnny on the shoulder. “What’s up bro, good to see you,” he greeted Johnny as his eyes met yours. “And who’d you bring here today?” he asked curiously yet politely.

Johnny’s cheeks flushed as he returned the shy yet wide grin. “Sup dude, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is my buddy, Mark,” Johnny gestured between the two of you. Mark extended his hand out to shake yours, just as the other man came around to his side and waved to you as well.

You shook Mark’s hand, smiling at him gently. “Nice to meet you,” you greeted. Your hands maneuvered over to the man next to him. “Hi, I’m Y/n,” you introduced as you shook the taller guy‘s hand.

“Jaehyun, nice to meet you,” he smiled respectfully shaking your hands as well, his dimples on full display.

The men had small talk, not excluding you from the conversation of course. But you kept your speaking to a minimum, not understanding much of the “firemen” lingo.

“Actually, I was here today to show Y/n around you know, let her get a glimpse of my work,” Johnny stated to the guys, causing your head to tilt over in his direction with a sheepish look.

“She’s my neighbor but, I’m trying to get out of that title,” he only half-joked, grasping your hand in his once more giving you the sweetest smile. His eyes are completely infatuated with yours.

The men nodded understandably, however failing to mute the smirks that they passed among each other. “Well, we’ll let you two enjoy your tour, glad to see you, John,” Jaehyun spoke up once more before patting Johnny’s back as he and Mark exited. “Nice meeting you Y/n!” Mark exclaimed following behind the older man.

You waved kindly behind you before looking back at Johnny. “They’re nice,” you remarked. Johnny playfully rolled his eyes as he led you inside the firehouse. “They’re dorks, but they’re my best friends. I don’t know why they were playing like they didn’t know you were coming today,” he confessed as you guys stepped inside the corridor.

They knew you were coming? That meant, Johnny spoke of you to his coworkers. Not even just his coworkers, but his best friends. Y/n, weren’t you the luckiest girl alive?

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

Your visit to the department was lovely. Johnny went into detail about all the protocols, tools, and training they dealt with in the department. He even showed you photos of him and his staff from their training days.

He took you down the basics of his training, telling you a few stories as well about his rescues.

“One time,” Johnny spoke as his hands were on the wheel facing the road. He was taking you two out of a restaurant of your choice, just for a casual lunch. Your head turned and faced his direction, acknowledging his words as he spoke about his endeavors.

“This woman’s smoke alarm battery was completely dead. Hadn’t changed it since she first moved into her home,” he solemnly told the story. “She fell asleep while making dinner, leaving the food in the oven. The house was smoked and foggy, that she almost suffocated from the ashes,” he told the story, remembering it like it was yesterday.

“It was my first-ever rescue, I was so young fresh out of the academy, I was petrified you know. She was an elderly woman. Thankfully, Jaehyun and I were able to get there quickly enough and safely got her to escape,” Johnny continued saying as a small grin tugged his lips. The memories, the lessons he learned from his job. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to quit at first, but the outcome of saving others was worth it.

You sighed as he continued with his story, feeling a mix of heartbreak for Johnny. But, it opened your eyes to how truly amazing he is. Brave. One of the bravest professions someone could pull, he was humble. But he had every right to be proud of himself. He was selfless.

“God, Johnny wow,” you huffed out. Your eyes softened at his story, your mind making out the scenario as you put yourself in Johnny’s shoes.

“Her house, how bad was the damage?” you asked, thinking about the moment that happened to you only a few days ago. The amount of fear that fueled you, you could only imagine how horrid the situation was.

Johnny’s lips pursed into a straight line. His eyes sadly faltered as the memory flooded his mind. “It was almost impossible to get inside, thankfully her room was near the exit but, her entire bottom floor was burned down. She went to live with her kids and grandkids,” Johnny informed steadily, attempting to mask the pain in his voice.

You nodded along at his words, mind trailing back to the memory earlier this week. “You’re so incredibly brave. Your job is so important,” you began with your praise of him.

A soft chuckle erupted from him as he shook his head humbly, denying your claims. “No Y/n, I’m not as brave as I make out. I love my job, it is important. But, I’m lucky I get to maintain it,” Johnny humbly explained to you.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh Johnny, please. You rushed into my apartment without any gear, you’ve saved an old lady from burning to a crisp, you put out forest fires, you help teach people, even grown adults like me how to be safe,” you ranted rolling your eyes at how he discredited himself.

“At least to me,” your voice softened as your gaze faltered down, looking outside your passenger window meekly. “You’re amazing okay? The bravest man I’ve met, and I’m glad I get to go on a date with you and understand your job. It’s beautiful the work you do, please don’t disrespect yourself by ignoring your worth,” you ordered of him. It was genuine, the words, the feelings, everything you said.

You somehow didn’t notice that you were pulling into the parking lot of the restaurant you both agreed upon, however, he parked behind the building. Secluded behind trees and a multitude of other cars.

Once Johnny was securely parked, his entire expression was soft. His eyes looked for something in yours, they were locked. They glistened with a sense of hope, and his hands met over your clothed thigh resting gently upon it. “Do you really mean that Y/n?” Johnny asked quietly, gripping your thigh gently.

A pool of emotions flooded your nervous system. The touch was gentle yet intimate. His stare was hard. But it wasn’t intimidating, but it was undoubtedly lustful. You nodded slowly. “I mean it. I swear,” you whispered out, your eyes faltered to his lips.

Johnny noticed it. How could he not? His eyes never left yours, except to look at your lips of course. His hands cascaded your warm cheek as his thumb made its way to strum your bottom lip. His touch was featherlight, yet it was enough to get you wet on impact.

“I’m gonna kiss you now Y/n,” he informed barely above a whisper. “Is that alright?” he questioned blinking slowly, his breath becoming a bit unsteady as his heartbeat picked up.

You didn’t think twice. “Of course Johnny,” you allowed. Not even a moment after, the rush that took over Johnny quickly met your mouth. Your lips smacked against each other, and lewd and wet sounds filled the car.

Low hums escaped from Johnny as the kiss deepened, his hand pulling you by the nape to close the small space that was between you two. The kiss was heavenly, you couldn’t escape the pleasure overriding you. Neither could he.

You were always enticing to him, even though the time spent between you was minimal, it was more than enough for you and him. Neither one of you could

deny that you wanted this to happen. After a few moments, the hot kiss slowed down. Johnny pulled away from you slightly to catch his breath as his eyes remained on yours.

“Should we stop?” he asked quietly, his breath hitching the second you shook your head. “I don’t want to,” you admitted surely. It was genuine. You didn’t want to, how could you? Everything about him was addictive and you needed everything from him.

Johnny nodded along with your approval. “Get in the back seat,” he instructed sternly. Your face stayed steady, but your heartbeat quickened immediately at his words. You were nervous, but not scared. You nodded your head and turned to the side unlocking your door, going to the back side of the car, and getting in.

Johnny pulled his seat up all the way, struggling to get out a bit before going into the back seat, sitting in the now open space.

His eyes remained on yours heavily, flooded with desire. Your eyes reciprocated the look, mixing with hints of lust. You slowly propped yourself on your knees in the back seat, leaning over to his face to kiss him once more.

“Sit on my lap,” he pled. Your eyes glanced down at his lap, noticing a bulge threatening to peak out from his tan cargo pants. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight. You head over to his frame, straddling his lap as your hands cupped his warm face.

“Like this?” you asked teasingly, a smirk threatening to creep across your face. Johnny released a low groan once he felt your warmth grace his sensitive area. He shifted into position, holding your hips tightly preventing you from moving too much.

“Amazing,” he whispers before his lips meet your collarbone. Soft kisses touched your skin, ejecting light moans from you and filling Johnny’s ears. Your hips instinctively grind against his lap, his stiffness piling at your core.

Groans escaped Johnny’s mouth, his warm breath hit your skin and arose goosebumps everywhere. The soft actions only cause you to become wetter and desperate for his touch. You whined in his ear incoherently, begging for his touch.

Johnny couldn’t help but smirk at your whines, his hand met your clothed sex toying amongst the denim of your jeans. A high-pitched moan left you, you desperately rutted against his large hand, needing to feel the friction against your clit. Your sounds were pure music to Johnny’s ears, as much as he knew you wanted to feel him, he couldn’t just yet. Not without completely teasing you to your breaking point.

Your eyes were squeezed shut, but he was sewn onto you. Eyeing every expression you made, every furrow of your brow, watching every whine escape your pretty swollen lips from his kiss. “You’re so desperate,” he pointed out smirking against your lips, brushing against yours with every word.

“So pretty, let me hear,” he asked as your head dipped into his collarbone, filling his skin with muffled whines as he palmed against your pussy. “So-“ you stammered out praises. “So, good. So good Johnny, please touch me,” you begged out for the firefighter.

He obliged, unbuttoning your jeans and signaling you to slip out of the fabrics preventing his hands. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?” he graced as he watched you pull off your denim, taking along the panties you wore as well.

Exposing your bare pussy for him. You were soaking for him, immediately dampening his cargo the second you sat back down on his lap. He hissed at the impact and held you closer, pulling you into a deep kiss once more, engaging fully in you.

His hand slipped into your folds, he hummed at the intoxicating feeling of your wetness. His fingers explored your sex, fingers finding their way inside you penetrating.

You could hold back the moans that filled the car, your clit humped against his palm as you threw your head back at the feeling. Your sex coated his fingers, your hands gripping his shoulders as your face tensed from the intense feelings you were experiencing.

His face was calm and collected, lips tugged between his teeth as didn’t take his eyes off your expression. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “You’re so wet, I could take you right now,” he stated as he watched you cry out curses.

You could hardly speak to him, his long thick fingers caressing your insides made it difficult to focus on anything other than him. “Could you?” you asked quietly, eyes fluttering trying to see his expression. The grin on his face told it all.

He nodded again, pulling his fingers out to press them against your lips. Signaling you to suck away your own juices. You looked coy at the explicit action but did as he wished. Your tongue swirled away at the pads of his fingers, holding his wrist to gag yourself with his hands. You hummed against his digits, sucking away all of the sweetness that coated him.

“That’s a good girl,” Johnny cooed watching you intensively as you performed. His cock was pulsating, achingly wanting to take you right there in the car. Just like you so desperately desired.

“Take off my pants baby,” he said looking at you softly as he retreated his hand from your grasp. He trailed his hand over your chest, gripping at your breast.

You hissed at the feeling but remained focused on the moment. He was going to fuck you, at least that’s what you thought. You lifted yourself off his lap, unzipping his heavy cargo pants, and pulled them down to his ankles, taking his black Calvin briefs down with them.

His cock sprung up on queue, leaking with pre-cum. Flushed red. He was thick, just how you expected, but you didn’t expect how long he was, it was intimidating.

He caught you staring and chuckled. He gripped his length and strummed at it jerking himself off in front of you. “You scared?” he teased noticing your shocked and reluctant expression.

You shook your head. “You’re just bigger than I thought,” you shyly admitted, eyes clocking back and forth from his face to his tip. His cock was pretty, it was weird to admit but it was. It was perfect.

“Let me suck you off,” you asked as you bowed your head, arching your back and kneeling towards his cock. You took the warm member in your hand, stroking it for him.

Johnny’s hand instinctively found your nape, strumming at it lightly until you were ready to take him. Deep and dragged groans exude from his throat. He kept his eyes glued to the sight of you teasing his shaft. He twitched at your movements uncontrollably, you had him wrapped around your finger, figuratively and physically.

He thrusted into your palm trying to control his instincts. “Y/n,” he softly exclaimed. He was already near his breaking point, it was too much feeling your hand alone. He swiftly pushed your head down onto his cock, filling your mouth up. He was so long, his tip already pushing the back of your throat causing you to gag.

Saliva drowned his shaft, tears filled your eyes, and wet sounds coated the air. The sight is so explicit and lewd, lustful noises escaping your mouth. Johnny’s cock drowning in your sweet wet mouth. It was intoxicating for you both.

You fondled away at his balls, finding a steady rhythm to suck away at his cock. Kissing away at his tip, smacking the tip against your tongue. You tried your hardest to keep eye contact with him. Beads of sweat trickled down his face, his eyes hazy. He stared at you, hard. He couldn’t alter his gaze if he wanted.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he commanded shoving your head back down onto his aching length. You grabbed the shaft, gagging as you tried to steady your pace the best you could. Your eyes fluttered and filled with salty tears at the impact.

“Look at me,” he instructed with a deep and stern tone, his hand around your nape keeping you steady. Your eyes fluttered but you maintained the contact the best you could.

“Good girl,” he groaned as he began to thrust into your mouth, fucking your throat harshly. “Gonna cum,” he warned as his pace was sloppier but still deep.

You choked, bubbles of saliva coated his cock and your hand. It was sloppy. But you and Johnny were so enamored in the feeling, that neither of you could care less. Your primary focus was getting Johnny to cum down your throat, you wanted to prove that you could please him. That you were exactly what he needed.

Johnny could already see that before this encounter. He knew he needed you the moment he laid eyes on you. The same way you knew you needed him the moment you laid yours on him.

Strings of curses and profanity stemmed from Johnny’s mouth. A warm salty sensation filled your tongue. You gagged and furrowed your brows at the taste. Johnny was panting harshly, and moans escaped. His heavy hands lie on your nape, keeping you in place as he fills your

mouth with his hot cum.

Once he finished, you pulled off with a pop sound escaping. You breathed heavily, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you wiped your lips with your forearm.

Johnny looked at you with a deep breath. “Are you okay beautiful?” he questioned politely, extending his hand to cup your flushed cheeks.

You shyly smiled, nodding your head after you finished cleaning your mouth. “Yes, I’m okay,” you assured him. You looked at his still-stiff cock. “Are you? Did that feel okay?” you questioned with a coy tone.

Johnny could only chuckle. “Yes, that was amazing Y/n,” he replied sitting up to kiss your lips swiftly, strumming your cheeks.

He looked down at his cock, sighing as he fixed away at his pants. “Let’s get ready to eat, right?” he suggested timidly, looking to you for approval.

You were a tad speechless. He didn’t want to fuck? Of course, you wouldn’t force him, it’s only the first date. You nodded with a small smile, fixing away at your blouse and pants.

The night was still young after all, whenever he was ready, you’d be welcoming with open arms.

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

The lunch was amazing, this time the conversation was directed at you. He learned more about all your interests and hobbies. That you love to read, what you read. How you got into your current profession, everything. Johnny loved to learn about you.

He talked to you for hours that day, it felt like you spoke about everything under the sun. You told him about your family, why you were living alone in the big city. Your dreams. Your goals. It was beautiful, the connection you were able to build in just the mere amount of time you spent together.

You both knew you wanted to take things further. Spending a few more causal lunch dates with one another, walking home together. You even called a few times since the encounter.

A few nights later. Johnny invited you over to his apartment. His monochrome, black, and white decor filled the area. Small portraits of close friends and family.

You were both sitting on his couch, music on his speaker playing in the background and you both were sipping on some wine he offered you.

“You know, Y/n” he stated, looking at you with a neutral expression. “You’re very interesting, I know it’s cliche but I genuinely think you’re different from any other girl I’ve ever met,” he continued timidly.

You looked with wide eyes at his claim, sipping at your wine and trying to catch his intent. “What makes you say that Johnny?” you asked curiously as you set your glass down, turning attentively to engage fully in his words.

He did the same, mimicking the way you turned to face him. His hand softly met yours, holding it close to him.

“Most girls don’t actually care about my career, they care about my money or my uniform. Not anything revolving my interests in and out of my career,” he admitted with a meek tone.

You nodded agreeing. Most girls your age didn’t look at a guy’s job as a part of him, but as something to brag about or validate in their desires. You looked at Johnny for him, not his title or money.

“I understand. It’s hard dating, especially for people our age. Most guys don’t necessarily like my job either, don’t like independent girls,” you relayed with an awkward laugh attempting to relate to him.

Johnny nodded at your words. “I think it’s amazing that you’re independent, it’s attractive. And, I love that you’re getting to know me as well. There’s a lot about you that I enjoy,” he conveyed to you, his tone being assuring and tender. His grip on your hand tightened.

You began to think a bit more, recalling the events earlier. The interaction in the car, how quickly he was told to discontinue the sex that was bound to erupt from you. It was awkward but understandable. You were never one to judge or rush, if anything it’s the last thing you wanted with Johnny. You wanted to make sure everything went smoothly for you two, in all honesty, you’d hate to ruin any chances you’d two have together.

The question came into your mind, and you decided there wasn’t a better time than now to approach the concern. “Is that why you were so, reluctant to have sex with me during our first date?” you let out quietly. It was embarrassing to ask, but you needed confirmation. To know that it wasn’t an issue with you.

Johnny felt a soft grin spread across his face. He took in a deep sigh, strumming his fingers through his hair. “In all honesty, yeah. That and, you just don’t seem like the type to fuck on the first date. I didn’t want to cross any boundaries,” he admitted to you.

He shook his head, almost as if he was in disbelief for telling you this. “I know you’re not like other girls, I always knew that much Y/n, and I never made that assumption about you,” he continued, his gaze faltering nervously. “I don’t want to sabotage us, I want to move as fast as you’d like, or as slow as you’d like. It’s up to you,” he explained deeply. The walls that he built up, instantly came down. His vulnerability was nonexistent in your presence.

You were at a loss for words. You and him were more similar in ways than you could imagine. If there weren’t enough signs that you two were made for each other, then you were both blinder than a bat.

“I’m ready for you whenever you are Johnny,” you confessed, leaning closer to his frame. Head resting against his shoulder. “Just, whenever you want to okay?” you guarantee.

Johnny nodded. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. His heartbeat steadied at your embrace. You were the calm he needed in life. You were who he wished for all along. He couldn’t let you go.

Not now, not ever.

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

You paced in your living room, the TV showcasing the horrific scene in front of you.

“Reports showcase the local community center engulfed in flames, it’s estimated dozens of people were still inside the second the building caught on fire from an electrical malfunction,” the news reporter read off as she showcased pictures from the event.

You clutched your heart, Johnny hadn’t texted you in hours. He was one of the first responders at the scene, once you got the message, your nerves skyrocketed instantly.

Johnny ❤️‍🔥: the community center is on fire, have to go. It’s major.

Johnny ❤️‍🔥: don’t worry too much, I’ll be home okay?

Johnny ❤️‍🔥: I love you 😘

Your eyes were glued to the screen, the fire was extinguished, but Johnny still hadn’t texted back. The reports were still flooding, you hadn’t heard a single siren since they were called to the scene.

You begged out loud, just for a single text. Just to know Johnny was okay, you couldn’t stand the idea of what could happen to him. You understood this was his career. He helped others. It’s all he ever wanted to do. To protect others, save others.

But who would help and protect him? Your mind was flooded. The bravest man in the world just had to be the guy you decided to fall in love with.

A strong knock was heard against your wooden door. You sprinted on impact to open the door.

Flinging it open, you were met with a deep heavy embrace from Johnny. Covered in sweat, soot-covered cargo pants, and his shirt stained.

“Johnny, are you okay?” you asked frantically, tightly wrapping your arms around his neck. “God, I saw what happened on the news, I was worried sick,” you admitted breathlessly.

Johnny sighed into your embrace, picking you up without saying another word. Stepping inside the apartment, closing your door, and locking it for you.

You looked shocked. Holding on tightly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Your bed in the center of a studio apartment, you felt yourself being placed against the mattress as his large frame hovered over you. His deep kisses are greedily plush against your neck.

You gasped out loud as his hands rapidly explored over your body. The degree of eagerness was foreign to you, Johnny could be rough but never rushed to please you.

You arched your back at his sloppy kisses melting over your collarbone. “Johnny please,” you gasped out placing a hand over his chest, creating space between you two.

Johnny looked at you with glossy brown eyes. The look on his face was mixed with too many emotions to read all at once.

“I-“ he stammered out choking on his words. “I was scared, going in there. It was like my first rescue all over again,” he recalled solemnly.

Your expression softened. Your hand caressed his cheek, a stray tear shed landing on your thumb. “It’s okay Johnny, I was worried sick about you. I’m so glad you’re okay, is everyone else okay? The news said you rescued everyone,” you gently asked, a positive gleam in your tone pursed as you mentioned the rescue.

He nodded slowly. “Everyone’s fine,” he guaranteed. “There were so many couples. Moms, kids, husbands,” he recalled shaking his head in a discouraged manner. “I couldn’t imagine how scared they were. I couldn’t imagine it being anyone I cared about in there, especially you Y/n,” he admitted embarrassedly. Tears silently streamed.

You couldn’t help but kiss him deeply. Holding him closer to you, chest to chest. He deserved to have all of his worries erased. You would make sure to relieve him from the stress.

“Just,” you sighed as you pulled away from his lips. “You have me, you’re safe with me. I’m safe with you,” you spoke out tenderly. Your fingers stroked his thick dark hair, pushing it out of his forehead.

“Let me help you, get rid of all your stress Johnny,” you pleaded. “Touch me however you want,” you suggested as you laid back against the mattress.

Johnny didn’t need you to tell him twice. In an instant, your lips connect once more. His hand pinned your wrists above your head. His other hand grasping your neck, the kiss rugged.

Johnny was against your body, chest-to-chest, completely against you. His stiff-clothed cock was against your clothed pussy. He rutted against you, groaning heavily at the feeling.

You softly moaned against his lips. He whispered sweet nothings into your ears. How amazing you felt, how much he missed you, how he needed you.

“I love you,” he whispered against your ears. Your eyes couldn’t even widen in shock, the intense tension building between you fogged your brain.

“I-I love you, Johnny,” you admitted engaging in a deep kiss with him once more. His tongue cascaded into your mouth. His forehead rested against yours for a moment, his eyes locked into yours.

“You gonna let me fuck you, baby?” he asked, even though the answer was more than obvious. Of course, you going to let him.

“You can do whatever you want to me, Johnny,” you admitted breathlessly, your hips bucked against his hard bulge. “Please, take these off,” you begged motioning to your clothes. You were wearing your pajama shorts and a tank top. No bra or panties.

Johnny could tell, your nipples piercing through the thin material. A pool of your wetness seeps through the thin material of your shorts. It drove Johnny insane, seeing you submit completely to him.

Seeing you in such little clothing. Hearing you admit your love for him…

You’re perfect, undeniably. He needed every ounce of you, and he needed it now. Johnny released his grip on your wrists and quickly fiddled with his pants, dropping them immediately. His Calvin’s immediately pulled down as well.

He pulled away his drenched shirt along with his white beater, exposing his defined abs. His shoulder tattoo is on display, God this man was enticing.

Your lips found their way between your teeth. Your eyes fixed on his figure. You swiftly pulled off your shorts in one movement, exposing your damp core. Spreading your legs out for his view.

He hissed immediately grabbing hold of his dick, squeezing tightly, and stroking it as he looked at your bare pussy. “You’re so wet, baby. You’re this wet for me?” he questioned with a sly smirk.

You nodded, your hand instinctively met your clit. You toyed with it as you watched Johnny. “I’m this wet for you,” you repeated his words to him, coaxing your fingers in your slick.

Johnny stared at the sight. It was heavenly. “Your pussy is so pretty love,” he complimented confidently smiling. Your cheeks flushed at his words. You smiled like an idiot, shaking your head at the compliment.

“Your dick is pretty,” you retorted playfully. A soft giggle escaped from Johnny, he leaned over your frame once more. He pushed your legs up to your chest, your thighs against your chest.

You hummed at the intense feeling. “You’re gonna feel it,” he informed gently. “Are you ready for it?” he asked once more, awaiting your approval.

You placed your hands beneath your thighs, Johnny leveled his cock closer to your core. You nodded in approval, awaiting him to enter inside you. “Please, I don’t want to wait anymore Johnny,” you begged with a slight pout that he kissed away instantly.

His kiss was deep and distracting, almost distracting enough for you to not feel his large cock enter your tight pussy. Stretching you out in an instant, deep inside your seeping hole. A scream attempted to escape before Johnny shushed you.

“Shhh, baby,” he quietly said as his hand covered your soft lips. Your screams were muted, but not gone. Your brows furrowed instantly, and your eyes almost neglected his.

His eyes were glued on you, your expression. You were so beautiful, he wanted to ruin you, have you a completely fucked out mess beneath him, only for him.

“Can’t be too loud baby,” he insisted as his thrusts were slow but deep. Extremely deep. His length already pierced your g-spot. “Do you want everyone to hear how good I make you feel?” he questioned with a condescending smirk against his handsome face.

You hummed loudly at the impact of each of his slow thrusts against his large hand. You couldn’t help it. The feeling was immense. You could only focus on the deep rutting inside your pussy, coaxing your neighbor's fat cock.

“Such a good girl,” he exclaimed slowly removing his hand from your lips, gripping your throat instead. Your screams were never silenced. It filled your walls, echoing into the studio apartment.

Your eyes focused on his focused expression as he quickened his pace, hips bucking into you. “Johnny!” you yelled out, whiny and desperate for him. Your hands attempt to grip his shoulders and back, instead scratching away at the flesh. Red marks cascaded across his skin.

He hissed at the pain, but it was disregarded from the pleasure he felt from being inside you. You were warm and wet, tighter than anyone he’s ever been with. You were heaven. His groans complimented your scream, music for his ears.

“You sound so pretty, listen to how wet you are,” he praised as he smacked against your dripping cunt. Your slick coaxed his cock beautifully, thick and white. “You’re already creaming over me,” he chuckled, pointing out the image before you.

“Ugh!” you moaned out, your hand gripping his thick dark hair. “Johnny! I can’t take it!” you whined out squeezing your eyes tightly at the intense movements he poured into you.

Your words only caused Johnny’s pace to quicken brutally. His hands now gripped your waist tightly as he fucked you into the mattress. “Don’t tell me what you can and can’t take,” he commanded with a serious tone. “You’re taking me so well, you can handle it. Right baby? You said I can use you to relieve my stress right?” he chuckled his words back at you. “I can touch you however I want?” he asked as his eyes locked into the sight of him penetrating you.

You whined nodding your head, knowing this was exactly what you wanted. What you hoped for. “Yes,” you quietly gasped out. “I can take it,” you lied. Not that you didn’t want it. You’d give anything to have Johnny fuck you like this anytime. All the time.

“You’re mine. Say it,” he instructed as his thrusts became sloppy. His dick was completely coated. Your cunt was aching. Your stomach tightened. Sweat encapsulated both of your bodies.

“I’m yours, Johnny!” you screamed out as your stomach turned with a filler sensation. “Please, let me cum!” you plead. You bit your lips harshly, wanting to feel the full extent of your climax.

Johnny’s head fell in between your collarbone right by your ear. “Cum, cum for me,” he instructed. He was near his climax but promised himself he couldn’t cum before you. You deserve to feel the height of this pleasure. You deserved to be cared for. To be pleased.

You couldn’t resist the feeling, you came on impact. The climax is hard and tiring. Strings of curses and screams escaped. Johnny’s ears rang from your loud voice. Not that he could ever complain, he would never.

Johnny groaned swiftly pulling out, just to have a pool of cum spurt out of the tip, all over your tank top. He threw his head in pleasure. He jerked out each string of cum until he drained.

You lay there, attempting to catch your breath. Eyes fluttering out of tiredness.

“Not yet baby,” Johnny perked up with a sly grin. Suddenly, Johnny’s head dipped between your legs. His wet tongue slid between your folds, cleaning away your cum. He used his large fingers to spread your damp folds, his tongue sliding across every inch of your pussy.

It was overstimulating in the best possible way. You pushed his head further into your cunt, feeling his muscle grace over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please,” you begged, eyes fluttering at the immense pleasure.

Johnny chuckled against your wetness, swallowing and slurping away your slick. Your cum sweet against his tongue. “You taste amazing,” he praised as he lifted himself up from your bed. He kissed your thighs swiftly before standing up and heading towards your bathroom.

You whined at the disconnect, lying on your mattress as you caught him wetting a towel to clean himself off.

He returned and gently cleaned your cum-tainted torso. A sly smile on his face as he eyed you. “You did so good,” he praised as he tossed the towel into your dirty clothes bin.

You smiled sheepishly at his words as you began to snuggle beneath your covers. “Thank you, it felt so good,” you shyly thanked him.

He nodded in agreement as he slid beneath your covers as well, pulling close to his chest. Your head laid against the skin, hand strumming over his abs.

“How do you even get an 8-pack this solid?” you giggled curiously as your eyes met his.

He looked at you with a coy smile, “Firefighter training does a lot for your body,” he simply stated as he stroked your lower back.

“Does firefighter training teach you how to fuck like that?” you giggled rhetorically.

Johnny returned to a soft giggle. “No, but loving you did,”

ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .* ♡̩͙ ✧˖*° ꕀ .*

a/n: hi everyone again! i’ve had a really fun time writing this one, i hope you enjoy and keep sending more requests. if you’re feeling generous, make sure to buy me a coffee to show ur appreciation!

love, mei

[witchbitchlovesdilfs]

Would you write a platonic daryl x reader fic? Daryl finding reader alive (barely) near alexandria after thinking they’d died in atlanta.

I Found You

Daryl Dixon x platonic! reader

synopsis: when the outbreak happened, daryl thought he lost his best friend forever. but when he's out with aaron looking for new recruits, he finds them again.

warnings: minor season 6 spoilers, language, injury

words: 950

notes: my first request! i hope you like it!

Daryl didn’t know how Aaron roped him into collecting people. He ain’t some cattle wrangler. But if it meant he got out of the walls of Alexandria, he would take it. 

So here he was, out in the woods for a third day in a row, accompanied by nothing but Aaron’s poor jokes and even poorer attempts at starting a conversation.

“All she talks about is getting a pasta maker,” Aaron huffs. “Eric and I had her over for dinner a few days ago and made the mistake of cooking pasta. She didn’t shut up about it until we called it a night.”

Daryl grunts in acknowledgement, kicking a rock.

“You should come over sometime,” Aaron continues.

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

Aaron gives up for now, following Daryl towards an old pharmacy. “There’s a bunch of walkers in there,” he tells him. “We haven’t had the manpower to check it yet.

Daryl scoffs and moves his crossbow from his back into his arms. “Yeah, well now you got it.”

Aaron gives in, but he moves with hesitancy as he pulls his gun out of its holster. They approach the pharmacy, and when Daryl reaches for the door handle, Aaron points his gun, ready to fire. On the count of three, Daryl pushes the door open…nothing. He peeks his head in. Still nothing. He taps his bow against the doorframe, and they wait a few seconds for the herd of zombies to come running…or, walking. Still nothing.

“Maybe someone cleared it out,” Aaron suggests, looking over Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl nods, but something doesn’t feel right. He keeps a tight grip on his bow as he steps inside. Aaron follows, carefully to watch his steps and keep from making any noise.

Shelves are knocked over; bottles of vitamins and stacks of birthday cards litter the floor. They step over them cautiously. 

Daryl reaches the end of a shelf when he hears it. A moan. Quiet, but there. Daryl shifts the crossbow in his arms and approaches the sound.

“Shit,” he grunts, and then he drops the crossbow. It clangs to the floor as Daryl dashes from Aaron’s view. 

Aaron was in shock. The crossbow Daryl treated with such care, like his own baby, and he threw it to the floor. That meant something more important was on the other side of the shelf. 

“I can’t believe it,” Daryl was rambling softly. You, his best friend. You’re alive. “I found you. I can’t believe I found you.”

“I thought you were dead,” Daryl continues. He studies your injuries; you’re pretty beat up from your travels, the worst being a stab wound to your stomach. Daryl lifts your shirt to check it out and takes off the handmade bandage you applied. “Merle grabbed me ‘fore I could call. You were in the thick of it, I-”

Another man crossed the shelf, and your grip tightened on the revolver you had across your lap, but you dropped when Daryl didn’t spare him a glance. He trusted him, which means you will too.

You shift my weight and hiss. “I got caught in traffic before I made it to worth. Somehow a holdover saved my life.”

Daryl drops your shirt and studies your face. This gives you the opportunity to study his. He’s older, more mature. He looks like he’s found himself, like he’s free from the fear his father instilled into him. You knew his father; he was a terrifying man. But Daryl was strong; he proved this by being here, in front of you. 

You also noticed the tears at the corners of his eyes, likely mirroring your own. 

“How’s the old bastard doing?” You choke out through the pain. “I’m sure Merle’s driving you up the wall.”

Daryl’s silent for a minute. Oh. “He’s dead,” he says softly, carefully. “Has been for a while.”

“Oh.” Weakly, you take his hand in your own. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugs it off, shaking his head. His bangs fall into his eyes, just like they always did. “It’s okay.”

“I’m Aaron,” you hear the man behind him say. 

You smile weakly. “Y/n.”

He nods at you in greeting, and you turn back to Daryl. “I got stabbed a few days ago,” you wheeze. “I’ve been on the road since looking for something to treat it.”

Daryl takes this in. “It’s infected, but we should be able to calm it down. There’s gotta be somethin’ here to help.”

You laugh weakly. “We are in a pharmacy after all.”

“I’ll look for some antibiotics,” Aaron says, then disappears.

Daryl settles down across from you. “When’s the last time you ate? Drank?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know.”

“You look pale.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been stabbed, and I’m probably dying from malnourishment, so…” You shrug. 

Aaron appears again. “I found some.” He hands the medical supplies to Daryl and turns to you. “Did you kill all those walkers?”

Daryl freezes. “What?”

“There’s six walkers in the back, man,” Aaron says in admiration.

You grin, super proud of yourself. “What can I say? I’m a badass.”

Daryl scoffs, but there’s a glint in his eyes. He begins to dab at your wound.

By the time he’s done, you’re lightheaded but relieved. “I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper.

Daryl puts everything down and leans in, resting his forehead against your own. “Always.”

You sit there for a moment before Aaron clears his throat. “Are you good to move?”

“I’ll carry them,” Daryl says.

You laugh. “Always the gentleman.”

He scoffs. “Shuddup.” He pauses and studies you again. “We’ll find a car and take you back.”

You halt at that. “Back where?”

He grins. “Back to civilization.”

[gilmorenights]

Hmo on a Varigo assassins au inspired by the black widow movie

So Varian and Hugo met as children, they were both taken and forced into a top secret operation that takes young kids off the streets and trains them to become elite assassins (basically just the red room and for this post I’ll just be calling it the red room). Who runs this operation? I dunno. Maybe Andrew, maybe someone else 🤷‍♀️ not Donella though because I refuse to make her a truly bad person

Basically the kids were psychologically tortured into obedience and mind control, I’ll attach screenshots of what the women in black widow went through at the end of this rant as examples, but yeah it wasn’t very pretty.

Varian and Hugo were inseparable and became extremely codependent on each other because they both knew they’d have to do some pretty terrible things to survive and were quick to become exceptional assassins. They were favorites of the red room leaders, but with the attention came expectations. When said expectations weren’t met, they were punished accordingly. They were the only two who knew what the other was going through, so yeah. Unhealthy relationships built upon codependency and trauma yay!

Fast forward a couple years, they’re adults and Hugo has managed to escape the clutches of the red room. How? Idk he just does, but he has to leave Varian behind. This fuels him with bitter anger and an insatiable need to destroy the red room, for Varian if nothing else. This is where the tts crew and possibly Nuru would come in. They’d would be like S.H.I.E.L.D I think? Another illegal operation except they’re the good guys, and they’ve spent years trying to track down the red room so they can destroy it once and for all and free the victims. Their operation is called New Dream (ha) because they have a program for people like Hugo who’ve been brainwashed their whole lives and deserve a second chance. Hugo found them by chance but after learning about his past with the red room, they offered him a job and he took it because he wants to take the red room down.

One day Hugo and a couple others are on a mission after receiving the possible location of some red room assassins. The others are going to attempt to try and convince said assassins to come with them and start a new life or whatever, but Hugo is perched on a rooftop ready to shoot in case things get violent. He’s the best with firearms, never misses. Blah blah, dramatic stuff ensues and the group realizes it’s an ambush and they’ve been set up. A bunch of red room agents come out of nowhere and Hugo scrambles to take aim at the one cornering Nuru when something stops him. A red bandanna covering the bottom half of the agent’s face, with sharp teeth faded with age but still there. Hugo hasn’t seen that bandana in years, not since he last saw… but it’s not him, right?

Hugo hesitates to shoot, only being yanked out of his stupor when the assassin presses a dagger against Nuru’s throat. He takes aim, and—

Misses his target completely. The bullet whizzes past the stranger and Hugo just barely has time to register what just happened before a families blue gaze he hasn’t seen in years fixates itself on him. It’s him. It’s Varian, he’s alive and working for the red room. Before he can really do anything, the dagger against Nuru’s pulse point is being launched and embedded in Hugo’s shoulder. Then he and the other red room agents are gone.

Nuru obviously gives him an earful about how he never misses and that it’s an awful habit to start now as she tends to his shoulder, but all Hugo can think about is Varian 💔

That’s all I have for now I think. They have a little enemies to loves thing going on because the red room wants Hugo gone and New Dream wants the red room dead, so once Varian realizes Hugo is alive and figures out where to find him, he’s sent on mission after mission to finish him off.

Also the red room leaders totally punished Varian for Hugo’s escape and turned his love into burning hatred, which was fairly easy cuz he was already spiraling once Hugo abandoned him (like Catra when Adora left in She-Ra). Brainwashing-wise, think mutt peeta after 13 saves him from the capitol. They brainwashed him into believing Hugo is a threat and that he needs to die. Yay!!!

Haven’t decided whether this would get a happy ending or not, but either way someone is dying. Whether it be Varian, Hugo, or someone else. Uhhh yeah I think that’s it for now!

For anyone not well versed in mcu lore here’s some of the stuff v and h would’ve had to go through:

[sapphiresaphics]

“Vi is in a vulnerable state where she never seeks any sort of apology for Caitlyn's actions despite her crimes against both her and Zaun.”

1. Yes she does. She specifically calls out Caitlyn for her actions with Ambessa and Caitlyn acknowledges what she did was wrong.

2. Both Vi and Caitlyn committed crimes against Zaun together. It’s really weird that you guys feel the desperate need for Caitlyn to apologize to Vi when Vi is the one who helped propose the strike force team in the first place.

3. Caitlyn DOES apologize. I’m so fucking SICK of you guys complaining that she doesn’t when she DOES. Just because she doesn’t do so verbally doesn’t mean she doesn’t apologize. This is a visual medium. Actions speak louder than words. Caitlyn’s ACTIONS of letting Vi free her sister proves to Vi that her love for Vi is more important than getting revenge on Jinx. It shows her she trusts Vi to make the right decision and cares about her wants and needs.

ADDITIONALLY, during their make-out session Caitlyn SPECIFICALLY stops to look at where she hurt Vi, tenderly puts a hand on the spot and looks sad and remorseful. That is Caitlyn preparing to apologize for what she did… when Vi CUTS HER OFF AND KISSES HER BECAUSE SHE ACCEPTS THE APOLOGY BEFORE CAITLYN CAN VOCALIZE IT.

When we say you guys have no media literacy it’s because of shit like this. The show gives you all the information you need to put these pieces together yourself, but you either ignore them, misrepresent them, or complain that characters need to express every facet of their being vocally.

I’m so incredibly exhausted that after 8 months people are STILL repeating the same nonsense talking points of “Caitlyn never apologizes and that’s why it’s a bad ship because there’s a power imbalance!” Fuck you. You’re offering nothing new to the conversation, you’re just keeping us in the same limbo mode of worthless complaints and arguments that have been debunked months ago.

And additionally, because I’m so tired of this too, I hate how you idiots think Arcane was about revolution and complain that the series “ignores its politics.” It didn’t ignore SHIT. The point of the series is the cycle of violence that Piltover and Zaun are. Regardless of who’s actually in the wrong (Piltover obviously) the point of the show is how this cycle will CONTINUE. The show was never going to end with the liberation of Zaun. It’s using the conflict between the two cities to show how the cycle works, how it hurts people on both sides, how you can get blinded by “othering” each other, how you can overcome it, and how you can break free of it. They do this so that when the show ends with Piltover STILL in a position of power and Zaun only starting to get a tiny bit of recognition you’re supposed to be smart enough to grasp that the cycle of violence is going to happen again. Caitlyn’s voice over LITERALLY spells this out for you in case you missed it. That’s not “abandoning its politics” at all, it’s literally broadcasting its political message in bright fucking neon lights at you.

Can you guys PLEASE learn what themes are??? This is not a show where it thinks Piltover did no wrong and wants you to side with them. That ending is a CONDEMNATION of Piltover for not growing and learning the lesson the show has been trying to teach the entire time. It’s a sad ending because Piltover has an opportunity to do better… and they CHOOSE not to. The cycle will continue. For fuck’s sake, the show is LITERALLY a tragedy. Do you guys not understand w tragedies work?

I need people to understand that liking a ship doesn't always mean that there is agreement with how it was played out. IMO Arcane is one of those shows that has infinite amounts of potential but was sadly squandered and the writers never even realized a fraction of that with the way they handled resolving the story and characters. For instance, CaitVi as it ended in S2 left things between them with a massive, unhealthy power imbalance (Vi having literally nothing and no one else except Ekko with whom for some reason the writers never mention their relationship again?? Meanwhile Caitlyn still has all her wealth and her father at least), and Vi is in a vulnerable state where she never seeks any sort of apology for Caitlyn's actions despite her crimes against both her and Zaun.

That said, it's abundantly clear that the writers' intentions were to end with showing CaitVi as a relationship between two people who have overcome adversity and healed from trauma together (despite their god-awful failed attempts at demonstrating that by just... never addressing Vi's trauma with Enforcers or Caitlyn's police brutality again so that everything "conveniently" ends up okay), which is what a lot of people choose to interpret the relationship as, and I think that's okay because frankly it's not their fault that the writing became so messed up that CaitVi actually turned from an incredibly popular ship into a controversial one through tone-deaf character arc "development" and how there was absolutely no conviction whatsoever behind the politics that Arcane loves to show off for aesthetics but never actually follow through on with ANY of the characters you know... actively engaging in revolution or political change (and if they DO *cough cough Ekko* *cough cough MEL* then they're whisked away to isekai timeout while the rest of the characters get oh-so-cleverly manipulated by the Big Bad Ambessa, an outside threat there to conveniently unify Zaun and Piltover together without any sort of internal revolution or ANY of the issues with how Piltover treated Zaun addressed at all!!!).

Anyways, I think CaitVi as it stands still had the potential to be one of the best sapphic ships in media, it's just sad that it was never fully realized due to shitty writing.

But that's what fanfiction and headcanons are for, amirite?

[puhpandas]

emotional 3 star fam + m.x.e.s arc where after they steal them they learn more about them and find out that they're a lot more sentient than they thought an antivirus from the late 70s would be and that m.x.e.s was built for one purpose to fight against the mimic, but it hasnt been able to fulfill that purpose in a long time after being left to rot all alone in that factory. 3 star took them to use them to be the mimics warden and everything already so theyre able to help m.x.e.s feel fulfilled again by it realizing its purpose again, and updating them so their outdated programming is new and shiny and the cobwebs are dusted off :)

[claitea]

wait oh my god the new anni lillie is just a palette swap of the old one? this actually sucks why did they do that

[nataliedecorsair]

I wanted to give you some of Pticenoga's Borderlands AU backstory, how she was raised by Shade and before starting her shenanigans with Vaughn.

Plus a bonus comic about how she decided to set up a meeting for Vaughn and Shade, but didn't tell Vaughn who is supposed to be there x) Mostly because Vaughn has met Shade before in his macabre World of Curiosities museum and thought that Shade is too weird for him. Well, that's the kind of person that would raise a feral harpy siren, gotta deal with it!

When she was very young, nothing bothered her much as she was just a wild baby exploring the world x) And Shade was a good father figure to her. However, as she grew older, she realized that she doesn't really "fit in": yeah, Pandora is a crazy planet, but not every person there is crazy. There are plenty of "regular folk" like Shade or other people from their town - and many others. And she was frequently called a monster, a mutant and many other things by the regular kids and even adults. She was wild though, could bite them or fight with them in a pretty feral manner, and, even though she protected herself, it didn't help the situation much. She wasn't crazy enough (and too small) to fit in with the psychos or bandits, was "too human" for actual monsters living on Pandora, and for a long time she had no idea she was a Siren, as even for Sirens she looked too different. Only when she hit her teens, she was able to confirm that she is one, started using her powers, and in her human form she could see the full extension of the glowing pattern she had on her skin. She still, however, didn't know why she wasn't born "normal", and there were no older Sirens around.

At some point, she decided to become independent and live on her own. Her "wild" upbringing was helping that a lot, and she felt fine being away from people. She'd still visit Shade frequently, of course, and at some point she'd even met Zer0 and could hang out with him for some time. As Zer0 is a mystery himself, they had some common ground between them (though constantly listening to his haiku were exhausting xD). Sadly, Vault Hunters attract attention, not always positive, and that was the reason why she got spotted by a big bandit gang (could be the beginning of Vallory's gang, but before she took over). And local scientists like Tannis already declared that there may be some connection between Sirens and the Vaults. And they noticed that she's a Siren, but also pretty young (and dumb). After the first Vault on Pandora was opened, there was plenty of weird and valuable stuff around, but it wasn't so easy to get it when you're just regular bandits. And when Eridians, the aliens that are guarding the Vault, are everywhere. The Sirens like Lilith were too strong for them, and hiring a Vault Hunter is expensive, so they decided to wriggle into her favor and use her to gain access to the area. She didn't know she was dealing with bandits first, she naively thought it's a rare case of nice fellows just wanting to be friends and such, plus the Vault could have answers about her origin, and the new "friends" confirmed it.

At some point, she realized she was being used, and got into a fight with the bandits - and lost, as there were too many of them, and she had too little experience, and they knew about Shade. She got kidnapped and told that she'd do everything they told her to do, or they'd kill Shade, so she had to obey. She helped them to fight the way to the Vault and get some of the riches, and during the process she felt that she really does have a connection with Eridians - they boosted her powers and helped her to get free, and kill every presenting member of the gang. She was worried about Shade though, so she left immediately to find him before the remaining members found out what happened and could harm him. But she was too late - the water source in their town of Oasis was poisoned, and every single person there died. Except Shade though - he lasted longer, but dehydration made him insane, and he turned corpses into the stuffed dummies he could talk to (though she didn't have much of a problem with this part). As she was gone for at least several months, he didn't believe she's real, and she had to adapt to the new reality.

She never got back to the Vault after that as she felt it was a source of more trouble than anything good (in her view, the price was too much for a bunch of physical stuff).

That lasted for years, and became a bit easier as her powers, enhanced by the Eridians, wasn't only serving the destruction,  but could eventually "heal" some part of Shade's mind, so the moments of clarity became more frequent (she didn't know it's the reason, though). And you still need money, whether you like it or not, so, when Shade decided to use his World of Curiosities as a spot of illegal deals and smuggling, she didn't resist, but would watch over him in the shadows in case something goes wrong.

Eventually, she calmed down and just embraced herself. And, after some time, she met Vaughn, whose personal struggles she could sense right away, as she had to experience "being different" herself.

[ambrosiagourmet]

Every time I revisit chapter 86 and the events right after the group talks Marcille down, I'm always struck by this bit here:

In particular, how similar it is to this:

The Winged Lion ate the same desire in both of them, more or less (I'm sure there are some nuances in both flavor and intent, but they are clearly similar things here). The Lion basically used this technique to kill Thistle, and for Marcille it was... not insignificant, but something she and her friends overcame without even fully realizing it was an obstacle.

I feel like this is another small piece of the story that shows how important support and love are - in navigating mental illness, in dealing with abuse or addiction, or in working through any other similar struggle that can be read into the Lion and his eating of desires.

It almost feels like Marcille was able to borrow the desires of her friends. She loves them and she trusts them, so even when she didn't have a desire to free herself from the Lion, the care they had for her well being still mattered to her.

It's the same thing later, with her hair.

She isn't able to notice the way her messy hair is making things harder, let alone do anything about it. But when Chilchuck points it out and then braids it back for her...

It's better. She likes it, things are easier now. Even though it isn't a desire she can feel for herself, it's not something that doesn't effect her. And because her friends care - because they know her well enough to notice the difference - she is given the chance to have a preference and to ask for their help.

We can obviously see some parallel ideas here with Mithrun and Kabru as well, but I'd also like to point out that Thistle gets this grace, too. Thistle, who had no one to help him up once he lost his will to resist, or to encourage him to find new desires once the Lion ate them all.

Thistle says he doesn't need anything, anymore...

But he is given an apology anyways.

It is not a kindness he desires. It is not a kindness he is able to ask for.

But it is a kindness that helps. It is a kindness that matters.

[severepink]

Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Ok so i saw a tweet that made me feral, so here i am with a request

It was based on a still from Thunderbolts* with Bucky in the kitchen wearing the tank top, the person said he looked like a dad waiting for the baby bottles to sterilise,,,, so true

I was thinking about #that bucky joining reader in the kitchen after dinner and doing it for the first time after having their baby 😵‍💫

so sorry it’s taken me way longer to get to than planned. thanks for requesting 💌

EIGHT WEEKS. 18+

bucky barnes x fem!reader

wc. 1407 warnings. 18+ only! quickie in the kitchen, pinv (but not much smut, my apologies. ive written so much porn lately i fear my brain may explode) mdni

⎯ ☆ ⎯

For the last near eight weeks, shitty diapers, vomit and fatigue had been all you and Bucky had known. The excessively late nights and nipple pain all being traced back to the sweet, beautiful tyrant of a daughter that you recently welcomed into the world.

And while you were both worse for wear and stretched incredibly thin with the new change of dynamics in the household, you wouldn’t have it any other way — motherhood a great look on you and fatherhood just as good a look on your lover. 

Like anything, it all took some getting used to: the stress, running on minimal sleep, intense blinding irritation, but it was all made easier with the great support system you call a husband. All of his attention and time being divided between his two girls. And with time, you began to feel like your old self again.

By now, it was late and it was like you were each too tired to sleep, each of you barely functioning as you work through the household jobs. 

Bucky’s at the kitchen counter, his time split between bottle sterilisation and the dishes, while you’re at the sofa’s, organising and piling the excessive amounts of baby grows and other laundry. Each of you doing jobs to lighten the giant load.

You stack the clean laundry in the basket and set it on your hip, using your free hand to drag the laundry hamper with you as you walk. You set it in your shared bedroom and meet Bucky back in the kitchen.

You stand beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing as if to soak up the calm quiet. He presses a kiss to your temple and lays the side of his head atop yours, giving you a moment of attention while he focuses on the tasks at hand: carefully attaching bottles with lids so as not to contaminate the sterile vessel.

You wrap your arm around his back, snuggling into his side as you watch him. Whoever would have thought that the hands that were made for death and destruction could now be preparing bottles for your baby in a few rooms over. 

“Good news about the doctors today, huh?” 

He pauses and lifts his head from yours. So you turn and see his expression confused, brows furrowing.

“What news?” he asks, utterly perplexed.

“I texted you this morning,” you match his befuddled tone and reach into your robe pocket for your phone. “The doctor gave me the all clear. I told you about it as soon as I found out…” you mindlessly reiterate, eyes then beginning to narrow as you look at your screen. “Oh my god,” you whisper, and shake your head. “I never send it.”

“Is it bad news?” he questions, eyes softening slightly as they meet yours.

“God no, well… depends how you look at it,” you smile and turn your phone, showing him the screen.

He stills as he reads your unsent text, brows continuing to furrow. “What is that? Is that an eggplant?”

“Yep,” you nod.

“Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why is it there?”

“It’s supposed to be sexy,” you playfully frown.

“Sexy?”

“Yeah,” you nod, pointing to the emoji beside the eggplant one. “See, the peach.”

“I don’t understand,” his head shakes, eyes flickering between you and your phone.

You inhale and close your eyes. “Okay, alright,” you focus on him. “I saw my doctor today, and she gave me the all clear…” you pause, watching the connections slowly being made in his tired blue eyes.

“So we can have sex?”

“So we can have sex,” you repeat, mirroring his tone and expression. 

Part of you questioned whether you should wait until the weekend, wait until you’ve dropped your daughter off with your family. It had been a long time since you’ve been properly fulfilled by your husband, everything but full penetrative sex to suffice during your weeks of healing. 

So this was quite the confliction.

You give it a moment's thought and meet his eyes again.  “Are you tired?” you ask.

“Are you?” he deflects and returns the question, wanting to hear what you have to say before he answers for himself.

“I mean…” you shrug your shoulders. “Yeah, very. But… a quickie can’t hurt, right?”

“Who doesn’t love a quickie?” 

“Exactly,” you smile and turn so your back is against the counter. You lift yourself up onto it, sitting on the edge with your feet dangling down.

He moves to stand between your knees and settles his hands beside yours. “And then this weekend…” he pauses and itches forward, lips ghosting yours briefly. “I can take you up to the lake…” he presses a slow lengthy kiss to your lips.

“Yeah…” you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him again. “What else?”

He pretends to give it some thought but the plan was already extensively created in his head. “I can make us some dinner,” he begins to list and reaches for the bow of your robe, tugging on it gently. “We can go for a walk around the woods, maybe collect some firewood. Sit on the deck and watch the sun go down.”

You drop your hands from around his neck and move to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, fingers mindlessly slipping into the top. You reach down the front and begin palming over his cock, eyes focused on his as you listen.

“Mhm-hm,” you prompt, eager to hear more.

“Well,” he pauses and reaches into the elastic of your underwear. “We can sit in the cabin, maybe have some wine by the fire…” he starts, voice drawing to a whisper, speech halting when he leans in to kiss you again. But he doesn’t continue on with his plan. Instead he grows quiet, quite like he was wanting to reserve the more intimate moments for a surprise. 

And so he slips your underwear down your thighs, the lifting of your ass from the counter aiding the removal. He watches the fabric drag across your skin, the material grazing flesh until it gets caught between your knees. You feel the resistance and lift a knee, letting the underwear fall from one leg and down the length of the other.

The hand you had tucked down the front of his boxers moves back up to the waistband, fingers resuming their prior finnicking into the elastic. You drop your hand from around his neck and join the one at the top of his pyjama bottoms — both of them hastily yanking on the fabric. 

Bucky helps, moving his hands from your underwear to his own. He gives both garments a heavy tug, each catching around the swell of his thighs — revealing just enough of himself as required.

He spits into his palm and smears it messily over his dick. You both watch the lewd display between you, eyes transfixed on the slight twitching of him, cock growing hard under his touch. 

Guiding himself closer he smacks his head against your cunt. The little slaps an attempt to speeden up his erection. 

He holds himself within his left, metal hand and spits once again into the palm of his other, only this time he smears it over your pussy — a makeshift lube saving you both a trip to the bedroom. 

Lining up with you, he teases at your entrance briefly, quite like he was refamiliarising you with the contact of his cock and himself with your cunt once again. He sinks into you slowly and both of your faces contort, the feeling of sheer, unadulterated, lustrous bliss growing with each passing inch.

Your arms wrap around him as if you’re in dire need of his touch, your hands squeezing tightly around his bank. And with the close contact, his forehead falls to press against yours, bodies close as you both delve into the bliss of what got you your daughter in the first place. 

Although this brief, fatigued session was about to reopen a massive can of worms for your sex life, it was clear that this time it may have to be cut short — the long awaited sensations could not quite be replicated by one to the other meant things tonight were bound to end prematurely. 

And so this little session might just have to serve as an appetiser, a taster for the weekend to come when you both finally get around to rekindling things properly in the bedroom.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[misstycloud]

Isekai’d yandere x f.reader

We’ve all heard about reader getting isekai’d into another universe and bonding with the characters, but what if it was the opposite and the yandere was isekai’d while reader’s just a background character.

————-

You were the mere daughter of a baron. You were pretty, yes, but nothing to gape in awe at. To summarise, you were nothing special. Then how come the heir of a grand duchy followed you around like a puppy seeking its masters attention? Especially since it was only the day earlier that he smitten with another young miss, who he’d declared with his actions was to become his future fiancée.

Yandere! Noble who suddenly approached you out of nowhere one day. You weren’t friends and had hardly ever spoken; to ask directions or work in pairs, perhaps. He was way too cheery speaking to you. It was completely out of character for him. Where did the normally stoic and unphased young man go? He was certainly not to be found here. No, this man chatted your ear off and did not understand that you wished to be left alone. It didn’t feel very safe anymore when all his admirers glared daggers your way. There was one you were especially afraid of. He was head over heels in love with her before. What has changed? You always saw them together and she was the only one he’d smiled at genuinely. Now he didn’t even spare her a glance.

Yandere! Noble who sought you out whenever he had free time. He wanted to accompany you in breaks between your classes at the academy, he wished to escort you to town and he even showed up outside your estate. His change in behaviour was puzzling, but not as much as the shift in his speech. What were these ‘bruh’, ‘sigma’ and ‘I’m cooked’? You didn’t understand any of it, no matter how much he used it around you. You suppose you were thankful he did turn it down a notch when in others company. You already had a hard time with it, you didn’t think it was necessary for others to suffer as well.

Yandere! Noble who had been shocked when they died and woken up in the world of their favourite romance game. They had read a lot of isekai novels but never once thought the thing was actually real. Wait, if this was their favourite game, then wouldn’t that mean that you were there too? Yes! Maybe they should thank Truck-kun for hitting them on their way to work. This was much better than any ordinary life a citizen could have. At first they thought they’d be stuck in the body of a villain or a side character, but they were pleasantly surprised to find themselves being the male lead of the game. He was rich, noble, influential and devilishly handsome. He had everything.

Yandere! Noble who immediately went to the academy to find you. When playing the game, they never found themselves attracted to the female lead, despite the fact she was modelled after the general population’s preferences. It just didn’t work for them. No, they liked you. Loved you even! It didn’t matter that you were nothing more than a simple background character. You were way better and cuter than any other love interest! You kept to yourself and didn’t have many friends, however you were still very kind and modest. On top of that, you were also an animal lover- exactly like them! The two of you also shared one other interest. They wanted to know if you shared more, but unfortunately the information on you was limited(not created because you’re not important).

Yandere! Noble who wrote an email to the game developers about how they should make extra content that should only feature new information and updates on you. They insist it would sell well(no one except them would buy). Sadly they never got a reply back. Rude ass company. Maybe they should’ve claimed mental health damage because the love interests were bad, so they could sue.

Yandere! Noble who couldn’t care less about the female lead. Unfortunately they got isekaid to at the point of the game where you’d have to enter a relationship with the female lead, that you could break off eventually if you wanted to chase after someone else. And sadly for her, you were the only option. The look on her face was laughable as they told her they could give rats ass about her and how they’ve found someone much better than her in all ways.

Yandere! Noble who then realised they were not bound by any rules. In a lot of isekai the person would have to follow some original rules at least in the beginning, but there was no system or points you needed to collect. They could do whatever they wanted. They had the power, the looks, the wealth and what they wanted was you.

There is no way you’d ever say no to a future grand duke, right?