#fasting focused lifestyle

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[rboooks]

DC x DP Fic idea: The Bakery is a Front!...right?

Danny Fenton starts his own business in Gotham. He knows that moving to Gotham is dangerous in a way, but it is the only other place with enough natural ectoplasm that can sustain him.

He wanted to move away from Amity Park to start on a clean slate. His parents now knew the truth, and to show their support, they were turning their research into a more sociological base instead of biological- I.E. ripped ghosts apart. Jaz got accepted into her dream college- Oxbridge. She moved overseas and is doing well in her advanced physiological courses. They told their parents of Dani, who promptly adopted her and signed her up for a traveling club under the condition she returned home for school.

The ghosts stopped challenging him after he explained Amity was his haunt and that it was bad manners to spar inside a haunt. He is open game in the ghost zone, but Danny got to choose when to go in there- his obsession requires him to defend something, so defending weaker ghosts in the Zone was a good option.

Danny always wanted to be an astronaut, but his teenage vigilante lifestyle ruined his chances- it isn't even his grades. It's a fact Danny's heart is so slow due to his ghost side it is mistaken as a heart condition. No space program would ever send him up with that. Danny decided that he would instead go with his second joy- baking. He opened Phantom Bakes in his second week in Gotham using funds from his Ghost King vault.

He served everyone and asked no questions. He was mostly sure half of his customers were gang members, but he didn't start anything and didn't allow any fights in his bakery. He became a sort of haven for everyone. He even began preparing packs for people experiencing homelessness, and bought the building next door to put some heating systems for anyone to sleep In during the winter.

Despite his obsession with protection, his human side made it possible for him to ignore it. He decided that his teenage years were spent too much giving in to his obsession and that in his twenties, he would retire. He did nothing while the various Bats threw themselves into battle, he turned a blind eye to petty crimes and basically tried not to bring any attention to himself.

He managed about six months until he accidentally walked through a cloud of fear gas while texting Sam and Tucker. His friends were tying the knot- the fact they all were best friends and exes was only slightly strange- and he was so focused on helping them plan the wedding as their Best Man he didn't hear the gasps, and horrified yells until he ran into Scarecrow.

He apologized for not looking where he was going and got a needle shoved unto his arm as a response. Danny's reflex to that was to punch the man a foot away from him.

The Bats quickly locked up the villain, and Danny decided he needed to be gone as fast as possible. He tried to return to his everyday life, but the next day, some of Scarecrow's goons showed up at his bakery asking him for work....so he hired them and taught them to make pastries. Then those goons brought over some friends who needed work but were recovering addicts and couldn't find employment.

He added coffee to his menu and threw them into that. Then some street kids asked if he would buy some stuff from them. Danny told them that he wasn't interested in car parts, but he was interested in furniture for the building next door. He had kids bringing in broken bookshelves, bed frames, and much more, paying them far more than the shady garages would.

Then some shady groups of men kept coming to his bakery asking for money for protection but Danny can protect himself just fine and proved it every single time a group made trouble.

He started having the streey kids make deliveries hoping to get them out of life of crime.

He made natural ectoplasm which, after much testing and research done by his parents, proved to clean out dangerous substances from the body. He made unique pastries that could help overcome addiction and heal withdraw.

He saw the light slowly return to the eyes of a drug-ridden community, and it brought him so much joy he barely charged for them.

Unknown to Danny, he has set himself as a up and coming villain. Rumors of his Fear Gas immunity attracted the attention of the Joker- who was found with all limbs broken, beaten black and blue after the clown tried to take a swing at Danny's employees. The baker had taken his broken body back to Arkharm, dragging the bleeding man through the streets uncaring of the line of red he left or the various people recording him in awed fear.

The rest of Gotham waited to see his true colors as he carefully built a front and gathered people. Some want to take him out as soon as possible.

Red Hood, most of all, after he heard that Danny had kids run special deliveries to know addicts. The only reason he hadn't blown his brains out was because Danny hadn't set himself up in crime alley.

The Bats had even talked him into joining an undercover mission to learn more about Danny. They didn't know what drugs he was moving or if he had a hand in other crimes, and needed more information that Oracle was unable to find.

She couldn't pull anything on Danny, driving her insane. (Techus erased Danny from the internet as a prank once and forgot to undo it.)

That led to Jason and Tim entering Phantom Bakes, acting like street kids who ran away from a homophobic father looking for a job.

Danny had them decorate cupcakes within the hour, letting them know he didn't expect them to crunch out masterpieces. They knew it would be a while to see Danny's real business so they bite thier tongues and got to work.

Tim just hopes they finish this mission before Jason snaps and shoots their main suspect....or before Danny romances the entire of Gotham because, goddammit, he has as much game as Brucie pretends to have. It's getting frustrating to see so many people throwing themselves at him, only for Danny to pretend not to notice. His good looks, charming personality, and carefully manipulated cover, drag good people into his schemes. He didn't want another Harley Quinn.

(He will ignore that his heart skips a beat whenever Danny gets too close. Thank you very much. It's just a crush; people get those all the time.)

(Part 2) (Part 3)

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part VI

1 2 3 4 5 6

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

Simon Riley is, like any other man who has been in the military for long enough and seen the horrors of war, a man who struggles. Struggles with feelings, actions, words, nightmares. The constant reminder that his career—the very same thing that made him grow a pair and go from a scared little boy to a proper lad—was what ultimately cut his family’s life short, weighed heavy on his shoulders, holding him down like Atlas holding the sky. 

Despite how much he tried to hide his own feelings from both you and himself, that icy gaze that seemed to be focused on nothing for hours and the lingering silence, along with the tired smiles he forced himself to give you no matter how awful his nightmares were the night before made it clear things were only getting worse.

Whatever was out there was oftentimes merciful enough to give him good dreams every once in a while, his psyche drowned in a sea of what the future could have been. A future with his family, a future with you. No matter how difficult things got in the black, buzzing mess that was his head, he saw his daughter and you like a beacon, a Star of Bethlehem during those dark, cold nights. 

The sound of stirring bed sheets is what originally wakes you up, the smell of tobacco and gunpowder that always linger on Simon’s body overwhelms your senses the longer you’re awake, slowly coming back to your senses. A groan, and more shifting from your left. 

“Simon.” Your voice is soft and even, hands feeling around the bed sheets until you find his shaking body. In the past, Simon used to sleep on the couch, refusing to go back to his apartment just so he could spend more time with you and your daughter, yet after Johnny’s death, the pain and trauma was always clear in his eyes, ending up with you offering to let him sleep in the same bed. 

Simon’s body feels extremely warm, a thin layer of sweat covering his burly frame, seeping through his clothes and into your fingers as you shake him harder, the room dimly lit with the bright moonlight peering from the window. You can see his features scrunching up, his hands balled into fists, the veins in his neck and forehead becoming more prominent as he relives what is likely yet another traumatic moment in his life. 

“Simon.” You repeat with more urgency this time, your body shifting closer to his in order to shake him firmly, watching as his eyes flew open, dilated pupils looking around the room before meeting your gaze, a mask of deception quickly taking over his visage as you see him force himself to appear more relaxed despite the fast-drumming of his pulse you can still feel beneath your fingers, his chest rising and falling, nostrils flaring as he forces himself to take a deep breath.

“Did I wake you up?” Despite how awful his nightmares were, Simon’s priority was always you. His kindness isn’t just fake sympathy, it’s the real thing. 

“No, I was reading something.” A little white lie that at the very least eased his concerns. Your hand squeezes the tense mass of muscle on his shoulder with such gentleness that he wasn’t used to, not after a year of being alone after breaking up with you. 

The corners of his lips tug up into a tight-lipped, tired smile, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly, trying to hold it together for your sake. His eyes examine yours for any hints of disgust, any hints that you may have seen just how disgusting he could be during those nightmares, his mind still fragmented thanks to Roba’s torture, never seeming to heal no matter how many years go by. 

Your fingers work overtime on trying to ease the knots formed on his muscles from the strain it takes to hold it together when you’re looking at him with so much trust and concern, not an ounce of disgust in you despite how ashamed he feels. His eyes momentarily drift away from you, focusing on the baby monitor, the tiny screen displaying your sleeping daughter, the living image of innocence, serving as a soothing balm for his broken soul. 

“Bad dream?” How lucky he is, that even crushed under the weight of looming grief and enough trauma to last him several lifetimes, he has someone to care about him, to care for him. His exhausted eyes leave the baby monitor, staring up at the ceiling as he finally allows himself the chance to take in your tender touch, the genuine kindness showing through your soft massage and concern, no matter how much of a bastard he was for leaving you. 

“Yeah.” You know better than to press him about it, too familiar with him to know if he wants to talk about his issues, he will. You lean closer to him, your head now resting on his pillow and your arm draped over his stomach, your body moving on nothing but pure muscle memory from four years of dating him. 

From this short distance, you’re able to admire the man that Simon Riley truly is. His short brown hair, the thin, pale scars adorning his visage, and the wrinkles that are starting to become more prominent as he ages, war and stress making him appear older than he actually is, yet looking as handsome as ever. His rough, calloused hand goes up to hold yours, fingers intertwining with the same muscle memory your body performed. 

It has been months since Simon came back into your life, the knowledge of the fact that he now has a daughter always made him stick around, not wanting to miss a single moment from the tiny bundle of joy that seems to adore him, a brave little girl who was as spunky as her mother, and as stubborn as her father. 

“‘Bout Roba, again.” He finally admits after seconds of silence. Manuel Roba, a name you’re unfortunately familiar with. The same man who tortured Simon and his mates for months on end, allowing him to escape and to feel a sense of false security, giving him the chance to have a proper family for once with his father out of the picture, just to rip everything that held him together from his hands. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His head shakes, signaling a no. The pads of your fingers run over his bruised knuckles in a calming fashion, tracing tiny, random patterns before his free arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest now that he’s laying on his side. There’s hesitation in his actions, yet his soul is filled with relief the moment you let go of his hand, just to circle his waist with one of your arms. 

“‘M sorry.” He’s not even sure what he’s apologizing for. There’s way too many things he needs to atone for, and he will be as patient as they come. 

“I’m sorry for leavin’. I was scared, didn’t want to mess you up.” He knows his absence did the opposite, and the idea of you giving birth without him present always shattered his soul. If only he had known about your pregnancy, he wouldn’t have broken up with you, never would have left. 

His chapped lips plant a comforting lip on your forehead, his warm hands running up and down your back, looking to soothe you as he can hear your breath hitch, salty tears already rimming your eyes. Your face is buried against his chest, lightly feeling his fast-beating heart as he holds you even closer, his eyes fluttering shut at finally having you in his arms again. 

“I missed you.” The shakiness in your voice breaks his heart even further, his soul being ripped apart by his own selfish, awful decisions. 

“I missed you too, sweet girl.” He manages to whisper out despite the way he’s getting choked up, his arms circling your form even more when your shoulders begin to shake. Warm, salty tears bleed through his clothes as he holds you as close as possible, squeezing your frame even tighter before he’s back to rubbing your back up and down, looking into spreading the warmth emanating from his large frame. 

“So fuckin’ much.” Another gentle kiss is planted on your forehead, holding you for as long as you need— for as long as he needs, too. You both lose track of time, simply caressing and giving each other much needed comfort, bringing you back to the ways you comforted each other back when you were dating after an awful day, all the crying and warmth coming from his body eventually exhausting you, idly playing with the fabric of his black shirt. 

“Can I…” There’s clear doubt in his words, and despite the fact that his exhaustion matches yours, there’s one last thing he wants to do. You lift your head, brown eyes meeting your gaze. You could drown in those eyes— in the way they always seem so loving and kind, so gentle despite how brutal you know he can be as a soldier… and yet that’s Ghost, not Simon, you remind yourself. 

His hand comes up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, ultimately pushing himself to cup your cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing your soft, warm skin, still moistened by tears. You get the message almost instantly, yet admiring Simon when he looks so unsure of himself steals your attention for once. 

A small nod of affirmation meets his words, and Simon doesn’t waste any time, leaning down until his forehead rests against yours for a few seconds before his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss, the hand on your cheek caressing your skin gently, his eyes fluttering shut.

[PREVIOUS]

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[running-with-kn1ves]

Got me awe struck how you write so well kinda wish i had that skill too! Anyway, how about boyfriend praising reader(who felt insecure) starting from sweet then getting creepier. Like something in the lines of "praising their kindness, so lucky to have them" to "he knows , he will kill for them."

A/N: A/N: sacrificed my soul for this one and it didn't turn out as slayful as I wanted.. Anyway, I hope this is what you were thinking anon :D sorry for any mistakes and thank you!

Synopsis: Your boyfriend's compliment goes a little too far when he tries to cheer you up.

T/W: Mildly graphic threats of violence, forced kissing, manipulation, insecure reader, yandere themes/behaviors

WC:3000

You found yourself in a bathroom stall for the fifth time in one evening, sitting on the toilet with your head in your hands. You just wanted it all to go away: the people, the drinks, the music that boomed in your ears. You had already stained your sequined clothes with spilt champagne earlier that night, the stickiness of it on your chest beginning to mix with the thick sweat crawling down your neck. It was too damn hot in here, the buzz of the bathroom fan making you claw at your updone hair. 

The mass amounts of club goers here were far more accustomed to this lifestyle than you. Which was intimidating, to say the least. They all looked so perfectly dolled up-- not a smudge of makeup out of place, delicious scents of colognes and perfumes mixing together. Not to mention, they could hold their alcohol far better than you could. 

One bitter cocktail and you were already hazy-eyed, your face warm and balance a little loopy.  You were by no means drunk, but the contents of your drink had certainly offered a level of instability to your emotions and movements. 

The image of men in their chic dress shirts that showed hours of gym time and girls in their tight party dresses made you want to curl up in the corner and marinate in self-pity. It was hard not to compare yourself, not when you spent hours searching for the right clothes that would fit with your boyfriend’s stylish accents, constantly perfecting your concealer to hide the dark bags beneath your eyes. 

And yet, even with your hard work, you still felt out of place, still felt the pinch of hundreds of passing stares and biting grins of condescension as you stood next to your overly charismatic significant other. 

Through your pounding headache and shaky breaths, You could hear the winding creak of the bathroom door being pushed open. 

Narrow-footed shoes echoed on the white tile floor, slowly passing each bathroom stall and sink basin. 

“Sweetheart?” A voice questioned. “You in here?” 

You stayed silent, covering your mouth and lifting your feet from the floor. You didn’t want him to know you had spent the past 20 minutes in here wiping away stinging tears from your eyes, shoving paper towels down the front of your dazzling shirt to soak up champagne. You smelled like alcohol and whatever cleaner they used to permeate the bathroom with, and it certainly wouldn’t be a sight that you wanted your boyfriend to see. 

However, despite your attempts to make yourself disappear, you saw his clubbing shoes patiently make their way to the front of your stall. You looked within the separating crack of the door and the wall, seeing a blur of black clothes and sun-kissed skin. Your eyes focused and without warning you made eye contact with him, his face showing a worried, yet sly grin. He was waiting-- peering in on you sitting there in ruin. 

You jolted in surprise, your foot slipping from the toilet seat as you looked away. You hoped if you moved fast enough, that maybe he would think you were someone else.

“C’mon, let me in.” He pressed against the door, trying to open it from the outside. 

Well, seemed like tricking him didn’t work. 

“Don’t come in here Ezra! I--” You weren’t sure how to convince him to go away. “I don’t want you to see me.”

He went quiet, keeping his hand atop the door handle and watching the door.

“Why not?”

Panic rose in your chest again, forcing you to try to come up with a way to get him to leave you alone, atleast long enough to make yourself look presentable. 

“I-... I just--”

“C’mon, I promise I won’t make fun of you or anything, just open the door,” He raddled the handle, pressing his face against the crack of the door. 

“Don’t!” You shout, trying to cover the crack with your hands.

Your boyfriend let out a low grunt, annoyed at your stubbornness. 

He tried rattling the door once more, pulling hard enough to make the hinges creak. You feared that if he pulled any harder, he might rip the entire door off. 

“You’ve been in there for almost a half hour,” Ezra impatiently replied, putting his hand on the top of the stall door. “If you don’t open up, I’m going to force my way in there.”

He began to pull, jerking the door hard enough that the other stalls began to clatter. 

“No-- wait okay okay okay!” You panicked, trying to pry his hand away from the top of the door. 

Instantaneously he grabbed your wrist, pulling it upward to get a good handle on you. His fingers were warm, as if he had his hands clenched for a long period of time. 

“I’m not letting go until you do.” He said coldly, squeezing your hand. He was serious, holding your wrist securely enough to show he meant business: he’d stand there all night if that's what it took. Your several disappearances had worried him enough.

His thumb moved up to caress the dip in your palm, turning your hand to face outwards. Ezra’s face was still pressed up against the door crack, looking to provoke you further out. 

Stomping your foot, you wracked your brain for something-- anything, to deter him away. But the lingering threat of his hand left your mind to draw a blank. 

“....Fine.” You mutter, pulling the paper towels out of your chest. You try to wipe away any leftover tears, but you know it does little to lessen the redness of your eyes. 

With a shaky breath, you ask him to stand back, and slowly unlock the door. Purposely taking as long as possible, you keep your feet moving at an inchworm's pace, hardly stepping away from the stall. 

Your boyfriend tears open the stall door now that its unlocked, not yet releasing your arm. 

You see his figure in front of you but refuse to look up, instead turning away and allowing him to drag you out of the small confines of the stall. He pulls you to the large sink basins, reaching for your chin. You flinch a little as he turns your head, looking at your tear stricken face. You felt like a mess, but he didn’t seem to change expression as you stared back. 

 “Now, what’s been the matter sweetheart?” 

You feel the cold of his rings against your balmy cheeks, his thumb running over your wet eyelashes to brush away unfallen tears. 

“I just don’t feel good…” You say, relishing in the affection, even though it makes your stomach churn.

“What doesn't feel good?” He asks, letting go to inspect the rest of you. 

You relax against the low counter, feeling it hit your tailbone. 

“Did someone hurt you?” He searches your body for marks. “Are you feeling sick? Had too much to drink, baby?”

You shake your head, suddenly feeling like a child answering to their mother. 

“You’re going to have to tell me what it is, then. I can’t read your mind.” He lightly scolds.

There’s a gentleness in the deep vibrato of his voice as he bares the blunt words, looking at you with an expectant gaze.  

You fidget a tad, beginning to pace in a small two-step dance. 

“I just--” You turn away, fidgeting with your fingers. “I feel, ridiculous.” 

You move to grasp your forehead, avoiding your boyfriends gaze. 

“Dressed up in this stupid get up, surrounded by these people who-- who I don’t belong next to, who make me look like a fool for being here…!” 

You fold your arms over your chest defensively, turning away from the man. 

“Did you see the way everyone was looking at me? I looked so stupid, standing next to you! Or even next to them, as if I could convince them that I belong here, next to someone of their own.” You turned to stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person who stared back. “I just.. I don’t belong here, with you… with these people… I feel absurd for even trying.” 

You hear your voice shake at the last few words, not realizing you were getting worked up enough to cry. But then there it was, that burning in your nose and the blurriness of tears in your eyes. You felt your face scrunch and tense up, the ugliness of your cries breaking out to make you feel even smaller.

Putting a hand to your mouth and turning away from the mirror, you hoped your boyfriend hadn’t seen or heard the way you appeared ready to sob. 

But a heavy, commanding hand pulled your shoulder back, turning you around with ease as you let your body fall to whatever whims he desired.

Your nose was shoved against Ezra’s chest as he pushed your head against him, wrapping his arms around you. He stroked your hair, pushing it off your sweaty skin. It was almost suffocating, the way he trapped you against him. But it made you feel secure, knowing that he couldn’t see your face full of tears and shame, that you didn’t have to continue to spill your heart out to him. 

“Baby….” He said. It was in such a soft, understanding tone that you didn’t think it came from his lips at first. “How could you ever, ever, compare yourself to these… strangers?” 

You sniffled against his dress shirt, hiding yourself in his chest and expensive cologne, a scent so familiar and potent that it put your body at ease. 

“I mean, you? Versus them? These half drunken idiots who can barely hold themselves up?” Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking slightly against you. “Darling why would you ever want to be like them?”

You wiped your eyes, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“I thought thats what… you wanted. How else am I supposed show up when I meet your friends.” You mumbled. 

Your boyfriend pulls your chin, lifting you to face him.

“I brought you here to meet everyone because I wanted them to meet you, not whatever persona the rest of the assholes here portray.” 

You looked away, letting his words sink in. 

“Besides, they were only looking at you because you were the most captivating thing in that room,”  He ran his pointer finger over your bottom lip, the cold of his rings hitting the bitten skin. 

“The most,” He cut himself off with a kiss to your neck. “Stunning,” kiss, ” “kind,” another kiss, “and amazing thing in that room. They were just how awestruck I was when I first saw you.” 

He softened as he saw you squeeze your lips shut, preventing a smile from escaping. 

 “Though I won’t let them make the same moves on you like I did.” He joked, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes. 

Brushing his thumb on your cheek, Ezra took away the remnants of tears. A pit of shame grew in your stomach when you saw him frown at your saddened state. 

“But listen,” He bent closer to your face, shifting his warm hands to cup your cheeks. “You’re the best thing to happen to me, hands down. And I wouldn’t trade any of the bastards in here for you, so enough self-loathing.” 

Your cheeks squish as he pressed his palms against them, forcing your head to nod as you went limp. 

“Good.” He smiled, grinning at how you seemed to wait for his next response.

You let him let go, even though you wanted to stay in that position of safety for longer.

He ruffled your hair back in place, fixing the few scraggled strands that he could. Ezra talked while fetching a paper towel to clean the goo beneath your eyes, originally from your tears.

“I mean, honestly, do you think I wouldn’t kill the bastards in here if they tried to look at you wrong? Come on, no way I would let that slide.” 

You smiled at hearing that, thinking he was just being dramatic. 

Paper towel in hand, Ezra lifted you up from the ground slightly. He put you down on the sink counter, keeping his hands planted to the sides of your abdomen. 

Letting out a low laugh, he continues to wipe away at your eyes. His demeanor shifted to be quieter; something you aren't used to from your blab of a boyfriend. 

Dark hair covers to his eyelids, sticking to his skin as the heat from the bathroom has begun to her to him.

The humming of the bathroom fan is all that fills the room for a few moments, Ezra’s concentration on your eyes leaving you both quiet. Though, you could tell he still had something he wanted to say.

"I mean, you don't understand how many times I've had the urge to mutilate the men in this club for staring at you, just from tonight alone" he licked his lips, curling his unmoving hand beside you. He seemed to be… nervous. "I'd pull their teeth out first, working my way down. Tearing each fingernail off one by one, pulling the veins from their wrists… I'd remove anything they have to witness you with."

He looked back up at you, staring within your eyes as if he was lost in them, as if he was looking inside of you. Despite his tender look that seemed to crave your cooperation, that should have made you blush– your smile fell. The warmth once spreading in your chest was now going cold, sinking to your stomach. 

"You captivated the whole room, and I can't stand it…" he didn't seem to notice your fallen expression, or the shaking in your hands on the counter. "I hate the way they can hear your laugh, sit beside you and feel your warmth… how you can smile at them and let them make you feel as if you aren't the best thing to ever walk into this club. I hate it so fucking much."

Your boyfriend trailed his finger down the sequins on your clothes, trying to hold himself back from getting too close. 

You shifted uncomfortably as your he leaned up close to your mouth, just far away enough to where he couldn't indulge in how badly he wanted to kiss you. There was this suffocating desire inside his chest to paint his claim violently upon your body in this bathroom right now, to let you walk put of this club with everyone staring at the little pieces of him only, forcing them all to know who you really belong to. 

You didn't know what to say to his confession…. Should you thank him? Run away? Beg him to go to therapy? 

Instead you stayed quiet, searching for the right words to not tick him off, now that you knew what he was potentially…. Capable of. 

"They want to hurt you, to use you and then throw you away like some brainless sex doll. They only have bad intentions, baby."

Your boyfriend slid down to your knees, crouching down as you sat on the counter above him. He pulled your left leg toward him gently, kissing up from your ankle, to your shin, to your knee. 

"But i'll take care of you, I won't let you be tricked.."He looks up at you with fluttering lashes, raising your leg ever so slightly to press his lips against your inner thigh. 

"You know how much I adore you… right?"

 Your skimpy clothes gave him even more access than you felt comfortable with, seeing the adoration pulsate within his eyes and the desperation in his hands.

"Of course," you reply, hesitantly bringing a hand up to his cheek, hoping he wasn't thinking of murdering you too in this bathroom. 

 His warm, damp hands molded the flesh of your bare thighs in his fingers, pushing in between the tight layer of where your tiny shorts and your skin meet, trying to dig beneath them. He wanted to hold all of you, to keep you in his arms so you couldn't even think of leaving, of running to someone else.

"You know that I'd never hurt you… that I only want what's best for you… that I'd kill for you--…" he mumbles the last bit, pressing your hand deeper against his cheek as he looks up from below at you, giving a cheeky grin. 

You nod your head, hoping his homicidal thoughts were just that-- thoughts.

He was quick to fool you again with that sweet, lovely smile that seemed to bask in your presence, the smile that made you feel like the most desirable person in the world. No matter how many threats he gave out they never seemed to deter the fact that his soft, adoring expression made you feel like he'd choose you in a room full of thousands. 

Your small assurance gave him the confidence to press his head further between your legs, running kisses back up from your knee to your thigh. 

He trailed up your skin, kisses growing hungry. Pulling your sequined shorts, your boyfriend buried his head between your thighs– trying to get where he knows he'll have full control over you. 

"Not here," you said breathlessly and bewildered, trying to push away his head. "We can't do that here–!"

His hair was soft, even with the thin spread of gel that kept it in place as you ran your hands down to his neck. Tugging at tufts of his hair and using your legs to push him away, you found little to nothing dispirited him. 

"Just let me show how much I love you..."

Each time you tried to use your knee to push him, Ezra pushed it against the sink countertop with the heavy weight of his hand. He looked up at you with a sick grin that meant: “just try and beat me.” A part of you felt panicked, not just from the compromising position-- but from how insistent he was. Like he was trying to prove something to you.

It wasn't until the echo of the bathroom door swinging open and hitting the wall, did he lift his head. His eyes went wide, jaw clenching as he whipped around to look. The fearful expression would've been funny if you weren't just as scared. 

You quickly jumped off the counter and pulled your shorts back into position, watching to see someone peak around from the corner. But the sounds of drunken laughter faded away, and no one made themselves apparent.

You and Ezra sighed simultaneously, the heat from the stuffy bathroom showing to have been too much for the both of you. 

He reached for your hand, pulling you towards him. Ezra goes quiet, and you keep your gaze to the ground. He had shown sides of himself tonight that you weren’t exactly sure how to process. 

“Lets just go home, okay?” Ezra says after a few moments, whispering with a grin.“I wanna finish what we started.”

What were you to say? You stuttered, thinking to protest, to run away or maybe even admit how afraid you were. 

But with a kiss to your sweaty forehead, your boyfriend slung his arm over your shoulder and began leading you to the exit of the bathroom. 

Your feet had moved on your own, your mouth still lingering to form words. As Ezra opened the door, the stench of alcohol and cheap perfume hit you once again.

[thelastairsimblr]

Family Pack #4

I’m happy to share some sims with you all today! In this post, you’ll find 12 households (40 sims total), each with their own stories and biographies. All of these sims have additional Everyday outfits, skills, bonus traits, Likes and Dislikes, sexual orientations, pronouns, family dynamics, and Lifestyles. You can find them all on the gallery under my Origin ID: TheLastAirSimmer or in the tray files linked under the cut! As always, feel free to tag me if you end up using them.

Abreu

A respected food critic, Maria’s opinion is highly valued by all as the towns’ baked good connoisseur. Her husband Joaquin, a renowned pianist, is no exception; he worships the ground she walks on. Together, they project their creative outlooks onto their sons. Santiago, the eldest and a romantic, has the full support of his parents and wants to become a professional wedding photographer. Even though young Rémy feels he didn’t inherit his parents’ imagination, he still wants to make them proud.

Naval

Aparna owned her own restaurant while raising her two girls alone. Hema was able to help out when she was old enough, allowing Aparna to find success and receive critical acclaim by publishing her own cookbook. Today, Hema is focusing on her engineering studies while trying to find love; she’s very smart and sincere, but a bit naive. Ridhi is chasing a riskier path; she wants to be a famous musician. And while Aparna hopes that this is just a phase, she supports her youngest daughter anyway.

Monaghan

As young parents, Stefan and Marianne sacrificed a lot. Stefan became a cop to support his family, but still gets caught up trying to relive his youth from time to time. Marianne longs for the day that she can quit her job at the local diner and become a singer. Soren feels pressure to please his parents, but really just want to play videogames all day while Tatum and Aria constantly bicker, not at all concerned with their parents’ feelings or the wellbeing of Hunter, who just wants attention.

Larson

Quite the jazz singer in his day, Clive is desperate to find ways to stay relevant in the ever-changing music scene. Fiona, longing for the authentic soul who serenaded her years ago, knows she can inspire him again; she’s stood by him through a lot. But until then, you can find the melancholy art critic drinking to yesteryear at the bar. Jade dropped out of college to pursue a career in social media (much to Fiona’s discontent) while Candice is following the artistic path her parents paved.

Agawa

Ever the class clown, Yuto knew that he had a knack for entertaining people. This was only confirmed after he went viral on Social Bunny for the first time! When he told his parents that he wanted to pursue a life in the public eye, they saw it as further evidence that he couldn’t take anything seriously. He makes a decent living streaming video games and his eccentric personality is pure internet gold. Though to be fair, he should probably be a bit cautious with what he says and does online.

Hollifield

As a teen, Whitney’s future looked bright. But she forfeited a lot of opportunities to pursue a whirlwind romance with a boy who had a dangerous edge. They were happy for a time, but it didn’t last and the only thing she kept from that relationship was her daughter Emma. She now works a lowly job in fast food while taking classes at Britechester, hoping to find a career in social media. Her days are busier as a working single mom, but Emma keeps herself entertained by befriending her neighbors.

Catton

Following the loss of her son to avoidable circumstances, Dottie found herself in the care of his two children. Filled with regret for not doing more for her son, the college professor watches the kids like a hawk! She’s keen on using her connections to better their lives. Temperamental Owen does well to make her proud with his grades, but he has an artsy side that he only shares with those closest to him. His little sister Bonnie would rather spend time making friends than studying though.

Qian

After founding a groundbreaking app, Shirong found a place among the company of the rich and powerful. His charming wife Meifing, quite the schmoozer at elite parties, is constantly looking for funding for her next big venture (while also being the go-to-girl for all the neighborhood gossip). Nuo chose to move home after grad school to save money, but is ready to leave and start her own law firm. Her younger brother Haoyu adds to her restlessness by barraging her with his antics.

Sullivan

Atticus’ dad Clifford, a retired veteran, supported his sons’ musical dreams fully, having raised him alone after his wife died. While roaming the world, Atticus met Elisa; a fashion guru with a fiery disposition. The pair had three children and Clifford moved in to help with the newborn. Like her dad, Lydia also wants to be an artist (whether if it’s for her love for acting or a desire to be in the spotlight remains to be seen) while Malicia, afraid of being unseen, finds relief in her friends.

Kingsley-Ramirez

Jaime and Paxton met/moved in together before they could actually get to know each other, both having been new to the city at the time with zero connections. They found themselves compatible not only as roommates, but eventually boyfriends as well! Jaime always puts others before himself; it shows in the passion he has for social justice causes he advocates for. Meanwhile, Pax works a parttime job at a small coffee shop, but is intent on putting himself through school to become a veterinarian.

Tanaka-Murdock

Nigel and Shannon met at Foxbury and developed feelings for each other during study sessions. Though Nigel was the only one to graduate, he admires Shannon for making the decision that was right for her. He enjoys being the breadwinner while Shannon follows her artistic instincts, though he wishes he had his wife’s free spirit. Shannon is quite hard on herself and works tirelessly until she makes something she’s proud of while their son Kason, while a quick learner, really just wants to play.

Miyake

Even if he’s never been the most social person, Kenzo is a loyal and fierce friend to those lucky enough to make it into his circle. A patron of the sciences, he cares deeply about precision and perfection. However, when it comes to raising his son Akira, he wants the boy to follow his own path, even if it’s not exactly the one he would choose for himself. Akira seems to be doing just that; far more sociable than his father, he never fails to leave a lasting impression on anyone he meets.

[cupidastrology]

Love Composite Astrology 🩵💖 Sun ⵙ through the 12 Signs

Please do not repost or copy.

Composite Astrology is a form of astrology that is all about putting 2 birth charts together to seek out the connection of both as one. It Is closer than synastry, in my view, and offers to see everything in one package. Please check for the Sun ⵙ sign you have in your composite chart!

Sun ⵙ in Aries ♈︎ - the relationship is the life of the party, there is always focus on the brand new and the risky. the only downfall is to not love bomb, to not go fast paced, but this can be a strong temptation.

Sun ⵙ in Taurus ♉︎ - the connection is full of pleasure, patience, and at times silence. you both are okay with the sounds of the world around you, but also the sounds of your voices blending within together. money, drinks, and recipes are always discussed.

Sun ⵙ in Gemini ♊︎ - you are forever in a discussion of brand new ideas, introducing possible forms of inspiration and optimism to inspire each other. it is important to take note that this connection grows through how you two speak, and think of the world around you.

Sun ⵙ in Cancer ♋︎ - a desire to always care and express adoration is involved in the connection together. you may want to always lean on each other for guidance, comfort, and reassurance. you are known for many talents and skills, but you are most known for being a home for eachother.

Sun ⵙ in Leo ♌︎ - the life of the party flows through you, endless enjoyment and pride seeps into this connection endlessly. you may have always had to expose each others' pains and insecurities in order to keep the connection strong, and without doubt this is the constant challenge of the connection.

Sun ⵙ in Virgo ♍︎ - words and how both are treated are important in your relationship. both parties are constantly looking for realism and honestly, and at times it may be hurtful to hear the truth from each other. this, though, helps to see what page each of you are on, and how your perspectives in each other's thoughts affect the connection.

Sun ⵙ in Libra ♎︎ - there is always a desire and need for balance and welcoming in your connection. you may be known for having your own styles of flirtation, and may love to treat each other as everything is the first time all over again. to be spoken to with respect and elegancy is important, though both you may always speak in rose colored glasses.

Sun ⵙ in Scorpio ♏︎ - the connection is often seen as forbidden but felt so true and intimate as a strong romance from the both of you. endless promises and sacrifices ridden this connection, and its hard to ever leave eachother. it is well known to understand and connect with the most vulnerable sides of each other here.

Sun ⵙ in Sagittarius ♐︎ - your connection is full of strength, attitude, personal perspective and personality. you are both full of life reading to take on a new trip, a new experience in a new location, or a set goal to travel to a newfound place. you may have met and are seen in places of the spiritual, the religious, the hidden, or the educational field.

Sun ⵙ in Capricorn ♑︎ - your connection has been full of struggle but is always met with strength and understanding again. full of control and power, you are constantly in need of connecting with the deepest sides of the self, before ego can walk in. you must both always learn to parent and lean on each other.

Sun ⵙ in Aquarius ♒︎ - the relationship is unsteady, full of rapid changes, and difference in ideas. you may want to both place a label on the connection but at the same time enjoy the presence of each other. this may an open connection, but also a connection that based on understanding eachothers' lifestyles.

Sun ⵙ in Pisces ♓︎ - this love or connection is often seen in dreams, felt before dealt, and focused on the influences around each other. it is important to always focus on what is meant to be released before getting any closer or having any bonds. regardless, both of you go through ups and downs together.

[its-avalon-08]

Nico Rosberg x reader, age gap, she's at a GP. Jenson Button is her friend, and he introduced Nico with a "This is Britney!"

its britney bitch (nr6)

anon note : I forgot to clarify, about Nico x musician reader, the age gap she could be just 3-5 years younger than him....

The roar of the engines vibrated through your chest as you stood beside Jenson in the Monaco paddock. The air crackled with a mix of nervous energy and adrenaline, a feeling you were very familiar with despite not being the one behind the wheel. Jenson, your best friend since your teenage days in the McLaren Young Driver Programme, was gearing up for another shot at the podium.

"Alright (Y/N), ready for some action?" Jenson grinned, his usual infectious enthusiasm washing over you.

"Always," you replied, returning the smile. You weren't a driver yourself, but music was your track, and the high-octane world of Formula One was your melody. You were here not just to support Jenson, but also to perform at the after-race party.

Suddenly, Jenson nudged you with his elbow, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Speaking of action, check out this driver I want you to meet." He turned towards a tall blonde man walking towards them, his face etched with a determined focus.

"Hey Jenson," the man greeted, his voice surprisingly melodic for someone who seemed to live life in the fast lane.

"Nico, this is (Y/N)," Jenson said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "(Y/N), this is... Britney."

You blinked, thrown for a loop. Britney? A nickname for a championship contender like Nico Rosberg? Before you could question it, Jenson winked. You realised it was a reference to the good-natured paddock ribbing Nico often faced about his supposedly "pop star-ish" looks.

Nico, catching your surprised expression, chuckled, a hint of amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Jenson's a comedian, don't mind him. I'm Nico." He extended a hand towards you, and you took it, surprised by the warmth that spread through your palm.

"Nice to meet you, Nico," you replied, your voice a touch breathless. There was something undeniably captivating about him, an aura of quiet intensity that hummed beneath the surface.

The conversation flowed easily, despite the age gap of four years between you. You discovered a shared passion for electronic music, Nico confessing a secret love for your latest album. He listened intently as you spoke about your upcoming performance, his blue eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

The playful banter between you and Nico was undeniable. You teased him about his "Britney" nickname, and he countered with a playful jab about your supposed rockstar lifestyle. The air crackled with a current that had nothing to do with the high-powered engines surrounding you.

By the time Jenson was called away for a pre-race briefing, you and Nico were lost in your own conversation, oblivious to the world around you. As you laughed at one of his witty remarks, a thrill shot through you. It was clear this wasn't just a casual paddock meet-and-greet; there was a spark, an undeniable connection.

The sound of roaring engines jolted you back to reality. The race was about to begin. You squeezed Nico's arm playfully. "Go get 'em, champ," you said, a teasing lilt in your voice.

Nico's smile widened, the amusement in his eyes deepening. "I will," he promised, his voice a low rumble. "But you better be ready to celebrate after I win. Maybe you can give me a private concert later?"

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you couldn't help but return the flirt. "We'll see how you perform, Nico Rosberg, or should I say Britney?"

The starting lights went out, and the roar of the crowd drowned out your playful banter. But as you watched Nico storm off to the grid, his focused expression masking the amusement you'd sparked in his eyes, you knew this was just the beginning of your story. The race might have been about speed, but the connection you'd felt with Nico Rosberg promised a different kind of exhilarating ride.

time skip

Weeks after the Monaco Grand Prix, the afterglow of your first meeting with Nico lingered. You exchanged playful texts, Nico inquiring about upcoming gigs and you sending him interview snippets praising his driving prowess. Finally, a free weekend between races offered the perfect opportunity to bridge the gap between the roar of the racetrack and the rhythmic pulse of your music.

Nico, ever the thrill-seeker, suggested a visit to his home track in Germany. Intrigued by the world that fueled his passion, you readily agreed. Stepping into the sterile white paddock felt like entering a different universe. The air hummed with the precise efficiency of a well-oiled machine, a stark contrast to the electric chaos of your backstage routine.

Nico, in his element, gave you a guided tour. He pointed out the meticulous engineering of his car, explaining the intricate dance between driver and machine that achieved such heart-stopping speeds. You listened with rapt attention, his technical jargon punctuated by bursts of laughter as you teased him about his "need for speed" addiction.

Later, as you sat by the pit lane, the setting sun casting an orange glow over the track, Nico's demeanor softened. He confessed the immense pressure that came with being a driver, the constant scrutiny, the relentless pursuit of victory. You, in turn, shared the challenges of the music industry, the fleeting fame, the vulnerability of pouring your soul into every song.

Suddenly, the differences between your worlds seemed to melt away. You both understood the exhilarating pressure of performing, the constant push to be the best, the vulnerability of putting your heart on display for the world to see. A comfortable silence settled between you, a shared understanding blooming beneath the vast, star-studded sky.

The evening continued at a cozy restaurant tucked away in a nearby town. You played him snippets of your new music on your phone, the raw emotion in your voice resonating with him. He, in turn, shared stories from the road, the camaraderie with his team, the adrenaline rush of a perfectly executed race. The conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and stolen glances that spoke volumes.

As the night drew to a close, standing outside his hotel, a comfortable silence settled. Neither of you wanted the night to end. Tentatively, Nico reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in slowly, his eyes searching yours.

"This," he murmured, his voice husky, "might be riskier than any race I've ever driven."

You met him halfway, the kiss a delicious mix of excitement and newfound connection. The world of Formula One and the world of music might seem like polar opposites, but in that moment, under the soft glow of the streetlights, they felt like two sides of the same coin - a thrilling pursuit of passion, fueled by a connection that promised to be as exhilarating as the fastest race.

[pickingupmymercedes]

I need you to let me go - Lewis Hamilton

Sequence: Not just a pretty face / I need you to let me go / Fly on my own / Leap of faith (bonus)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: angsty

wordcount: +2K

a/n: It's not even a slowburn atp, just pure longing and angst. Anyway, do we want a happy ending or just pure heartbreak and right person wrong time trope?

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The air thrummed with a deafening bass beat, the pulsating lights painting the faces in the opulent ballroom with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Y/n felt the familiar unease crawl up her arms. Parties like this were a necessary evil, a way to keep her father's business connections happy. But that night, the forced smiles and meaningless conversations felt unbearable. Her eyes flitting across the room, searching for the familiar dark hair she had seen before, a hint of that easy swagger that always seemed to draw her gaze.

Lewis stood laughing to a corner, his arm casually draped around the waist of a blonde model. Y/n recognized her from his Instagram baddies rounds; someone with a penchant for fame, fast cars and the medal that was having Lewis Hamilton for a weekend.

A sharp annoyance twisted in her stomach, but not jealousy, not exactly. It was more a bitter disappointment, a confirmation of something she'd always knew but had been trying to ignore. Lewis, the man who often made her world tilt on its axis, was just like the others and their list of conquests.

She straightened her back, forcing a smile onto her lips as a group of her father's associates approached. They were a predictable bunch – men with oil money dripping from their tailored suits, wives adorned with enough diamonds to blind those who didn’t know any better.

The conversation followed a familiar script – pleasantries about the weather, questions on her father, on who would take after his business, about her "jet-setting lifestyle." Y/n answered with practiced ease, her mind already a million miles away.

But then a voice cut through the monotonous drone. "Y/n! Looking as radiant as ever."

She turned to see Francis Chrysler, heir to a automobile empire and carrying his family name on that party, much like Y/n. They had known each other since they were kids, Y/n would travel up north to spend summer in the Hamptons with her grandmother and Francis would meet his parents in the US, back from his bordering school in the UK.

Y/n couldn’t deny he was something. Tall, impeccably dressed, and with a smile that could charm the birds from the trees, Francis was exactly the type of man everyone hoped she’d marry – stable, successful, from a “good family” and undeniably the type to merge her family’s fortune to even deeper riches.

But that night, he was also the perfect tool for the job at hand.

"Francis" she replied, a touch of coolness in her voice. "Lovely to see you."

The blonde took her hand, his fingers lingering a beat too long. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in the city so early in the year."

" You know me too well. I’d much rather stay in California until it’s warm enough up here" she said, her eyes scanning the room again. Lewis was gone, the blonde model nowhere to be seen.

“But duty called?” Francis focused his gaze on her, trying to get her to look at him before he touched her arm “Something like that” she finally conceded, looking up at him with a warm but emotionless smile.

The rest of the night was a blur of champagne flutes and hollow conversations. Francis, was attentive, even charming in his way. But his attentions only served to highlight the hollowness that echoed inside her.

Lewis's fleeting stares, the way his eyes seemed to see right through her meticulously facade - those were the things she craved, the things she couldn't have.

As the party started to wind down, Y/n found an excuse to slip away. She needed air, needed a moment of sanity away from the suffocating atmosphere and maybe some fresh air from her own mind.

Stepping outside onto the balcony, she took a deep breath of crisp night air. The city lights shimmered below, a glittering reminder of everything she was supposed to aspire. But all she could think about was how her mind and heart could never reach an agreement.

A sudden movement near the edge of the balcony caught her eye. Lewis stood there by himself, leaning against the railing, his face hidden in the shadows. A surge of conflicting emotions coursed her as she noticed he too studied her face – relief, anger, hope.

"Lewis," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Enjoying the company, Y/n?" His voice was a low murmur, his hands gripping a bit too tight against the metal bar.

The question was laced with a playful challenge, a reminder of her earlier display with Francis as they talked and his hand rested a bit too low on her waist. "I manage" she replied, forcing a lightness that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"So, I see," he said, his gaze dropping to where the blonde’s hand had been. A flicker of something dark crossed his face before it was quickly masked by a charming smile. "He seems...familiar with you."

"He's harmless" Y/n said dismissively, the lie bitter on her tongue.

"Didn’t look like that" Lewis countered, his voice taking on a serious edge.

They stood there, the unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air. Y/n, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, broke eye contact.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Y/n" Lewis said, his voice laced with amusement.

She scoffed. "Jealousy? Don't flatter yourself, Lewis. You can have your little arm candy."

His amusement vanished, replaced by a coldness that made her shiver. "Is that what he was then? Your arm candy?"

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/n knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that probably wouldn’t end well.

"Why the charade, Y/n?" He took a step closer, the air crackling with unspoken tension. "Why the forced smiles?"

"Maybe," she countered, her voice holding steadier than she felt "because I'm tired of the stolen glances and the late-night texts that lead to nothing."

Lewis stared at her; his expression unreadable. She could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, processing her outburst.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it too, Lewis. The frustration, the longing. We dance around each other like moths to a flame, but neither one of us dares to get burned."

He remained silent; his jaw clenched tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse. "What do you want, Y/n? Because honestly, I have no idea anymore. It was never a secret how I feel about you."

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Here it was, the question she both dreaded and craved.

The answer, however, remained a tangled mess of emotions.

"I..." she started, then stopped.

There was the comfortable life she'd always known, the endless jet-setting, the security of her family's wealth. The power she carried with her from a very young age. A power her mother had taught her to never take for granted. To never trade for a man.

But then there was Lewis, her very own whirlwind of passion and ambition who challenged everything she thought she knew and wanted. He was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. And she couldn’t stand the possibility of changing a single inch of him, even if he offered.

"I don't know," she finally admitted, a tear rolling down her cheek. A truth so raw and honest it took her by surprise to being able to say out loud.

Lewis reached out, brushing the tear away with his thumb. His touch a reminder of their connection that transcended words. For a moment, they were lost in each other's eyes, a silent peace hanging in the air.

"But you want something" he pressed gently.

She nodded, unable to speak through the lump in her throat. Part of her yearned for a life intertwined with his, a life with the adrenaline he came intertwined with. The other though, craved stability, a future that she could plan about.

"Why are we doing this, Lewis?" she blurted out, finally turning to face him fully again. "This game of… of pretending we don't care."

His jaw clenched briefly, a flicker of frustration mirroring her own. "Because," he began, his voice low and controlled, "because it's easier than this. Easier than admitting what this is."

He gestured vaguely between them; the unspoken truth thick in the air.

"And what exactly is this, then, Lewis?" she challenged, a tremor in her voice finally showing the faltering of her walls.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers, and with each step, the temperature between them seemed to rise, Y/n not backing the slightest.

"It's frustrating, isn't it?" Y/n spoke the words hanging in the air, her voice barely a whisper.

"It's torture," he corrected her, his voice raw with emotion. "Seeing you with someone else..." He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. The implication hanging heavy. Y/n felt his pain echo within her, a bittersweet recognition.

His eyes searched hers, a silent plea hanging between them. He wanted her, she knew that much. But the fear of disrupting their fragile equilibrium, of sacrificing their comfortable charade, held them both captive.

A wave of despair washed over Y/n. They were caught in a never-ending loop, dancing around their desires, afraid to take the leap.

"Then why do we keep doing this?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why do we keep pretending?"

He reached out, his thumb tenderly brushing at her hand.

"Because," he said, his voice barely above a murmur, "because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

"Is it?" she questioned, the tears she had tried so fiercely to keep in finally spilling over. "Because all this yearning is slowly breaking me."

He flinched at her words, the pain in her eyes mirroring his own. They stood there, bathed in the city’s lights, the weight of unspoken desires and the reality of their relationship created a suffocating silence between them.

Finally, Y/n took a step back, pulling away from his touch. The physical distance mirroring the emotional chasm that seemed to be growing between them.

“I can keep you in the dark, Lewis. You deserve love. And I can’t give you that. Not right now” The look of raw vulnerability on his face tore at her heart, but she knew she was right. They couldn't keep living in this state of perpetual longing.

"Y/n, I’m not a child, I know what I’m getting myself into" he began, his voice laced with annoyance. But she held up a hand, silencing him.

"I need to go" she choked out, turning away from him before she crumbled completely.

Without another word, she walked back inside, the party lights blurring with the tears that she fought so valiantly to hold in.

Weeks later y/n found herself sneaking into a european f1 paddock late at night on a Friday.

The roar of the engine had long been replaced by the sterile hiss of the garages closing around them. It was a sound she would normally hate, a constant reminder of the world that made Lewis impossible to her.

But that night, it was a chilling and fitting melody to accompany the hollowness in her chest that threaded to swallow her.

They hadn't spoken in almost a month. Not since the party and since their talk, the one that shattered the fragile peace they'd managed to balance.

His silence was a language she knew all too well, a tapestry woven with disappointment and unspoken blame, his and hers.

She watched him from across the dimly lit garage, the harsh overhead lights glinting off at his temple. He looked beautiful, untouchable, a goddamn champion shrouded in the shadows.

It was a sight that would've probably lighten something in her, a reminder of why she kept coming back.

But tonight, all she felt was a cold dread.

"I need your help Lewis.” she whispered, the words a plea and a surrender all at once. The air hanging heavy, thick with the unspoken truth that both refused to accept it.

His eyes flickered to hers, surprise quickly replaced by a steely glint. He opened his mouth to retort, but the words died on his lips as she continued. “I need you to let me go”

Maybe he saw it too, the raw vulnerability etched on her face, the fear that threatened to consume her.

"Because honestly," she murmured, her voice barely above a choked sob, "I haven’t been able to do it on my own”

The words hung in the air, a desperate confession that shattered the carefully constructed walls around her heart. Lewis took a hesitant step towards her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n?" His voice was rough, laced with something that sounded suspiciously like hope.

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. "Nobody gets me like you" she choked out, the words echoing the hurt in the duty she felt to follow her better judgment instead of her heart.

It was a messy confession, a tangle of contradictions and unspoken desires. But in the quiet of the garage, under the harsh glare of the lights, it felt like the only truth that mattered.

Lewis closed the distance left between them, his arms enveloping her in a warmth that chased away the chill that had settled in her bones since that NYC night.

There were no answers, just the echo of a question hanging in the air, a question that they both knew neither had the answer to. But for those moments, in the fragile space between letting go and holding on, they hung to a sliver of solace, a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out.

______________________________________________________________

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[stellarsagittarius]

Where you would meet your future husband / wife based on your Jupiter / Venus Persona Chart, Pt. 2

Masterlist: All my astrology posts at one place

(If you are looking for a man, check your Jupiter Persona Chart. If you are looking for a woman, check your Venus Persona Chart)

(Disclaimer: Don't be fixed on this reading! Always have an open mind because the Universe works the best when you have trusted and let go of expectations! Also, the chart won't tell you the exact place or time or how you would feel about something, no one can do that. What it WILL tell is the theme that can be the most prevalent during that event, and how the event can play out.)

Asteroid 1585 is the Union asteroid. It will show how you can "meet" or "come together" with someone.

◇◇ Union through the Signs ◇◇

Union in Aries or Mars as the Ruler

The energy will be sudden, spontaneous and impulsive. Expect the unexpected. Aries energy is in a constant motion. Mars rules motion and drive. The situation could be very new to you, or you were totally unprepared when this happened. Aries is hot and fast so it could be associated with cars, driving, amusement parks, the color red, spices, fireworks, war, battlefields, etc. [I hope nobody meets their s/o in a battlefield! It's giving Fortnite/PubG, tho, if Union has 4th or 3rd house connection!] Regardless, the energy will be quick and sudden. Expect someone to overcome their doubts or finally make the move. It's all about courage, being bold, and stamina. The communication is expected to flow quite well. You can meet while at the gym or in traffic. Think of a situation where you have to exert labor or force. This energy is giving, "Getting out and grabbing something!" The meeting will be direct, and for achieving a certain purpose. The purpose can be anything, but the communication will take place to get to something.

Union in Taurus or Venus as the Ruler

Taurus rules earth, natural beauty, the five senses, stability, a long term focus, the material realm. So this meeting could take a little time to materialize. With Taurus, there is the need for patience, to build a stable thing one step at a time. Perhaps communication takes time in this relationship. Taurus rules earthy color tones. Taurus energy is slow moving, practical, stubborn, materialistic. Perhaps you meet around nature or around a very pleasant weather. Perhaps self care is a big focus around the time you meet them! You might have long terms plans that you are working on, at the time you meet them. It could be a quiet phase in your life where you are taking it day by day, building things for yourself and focusing on living a very grounded lifestyle. You could be naturally drawn to their beauty or they could be drawn to yours. You guys might talk about/bond over the matters of your possessions or shared values/beliefs. You can give each other a valuable something on the first meeting.

Union in Gemini or Mercury as the Ruler

Gemini is quick, but it's not quick in the mars way. Gemini is quick mentally. It rules your mind, logic, communication, young restless energy, curiousity and an energy of speaking your mind. There could be direct communication or sharing of information involved. Gemini rules early education, the hands, writing, speech, words, information, news, etc. Perhaps you meet them while gossiping! This is a classic social media indicator, as well. This could be a person with similar ideas as you, they could even be "around" you a lot before you actually notice them. Like a classmate or a cute waiter at the coffee shop you regularly visit to complete your homework, and you realise that they are interested in what you are studying. You both will bond over similar ideas and interests, and will be very talkative right from the beginning. Some places could be a library, bookstore, classrooms, newsrooms, news agencies etc. (I have this with 2 of my besties that I met in high school, in our class!)

Union in Cancer or Moon as the Ruler

Cancer rules your emotions, your gut instincts, the person you are at the deepest level, what's truly in your heart, your home and privacy. So think of being in your comfort when you meet them. This could indicate having quite some boundaries up, the inability to open up right away, and being protective over yourself. This meeting can also happen in a very emotional period your life, or a period where the "mother" archetype is pretty prevalent, whether it's you or someone else very close to you. This could be at home, or somewhere where you feel comfortable. A place/time without rush or aggression or a lot of movement. This person might look straight into what you had been feeling. Opening up to this person may take some time. You might meet at somebody else's home, if not yours, like your Grandma's or Aunt's. Cancer rules water bodies, crabs, the home, seafood, the color of the moon, etc. Perhaps it's around a time where there's a significant event going on with the moon, like a full moon or a lunar eclipse.

Union in Leo or Sun as the Ruler

When there is Leo energy present in a chart, expect bold moves. Expect confidence and a desire for self expression. Sun as as the ruler signifies that this is gonna be a situation where you are shining/or they are shining. This is related to charm and creativity. This energy would make a situation/person lively, dramatic and strong. Situations that remind me of Leo and the Sun energy, is a creative social media platform, theather, the stage, being a leader or an influential person, getting major recognition for something, etc. This is also a situation where you are the center of attention. You might be in a very important part of your life regarding fame and recognition. Expect to meet in the daytime, or during a warm sunny day! You could be focusing on becoming more confident. Or you could be simply having a lot of fun, and life is filled with something exciting!

Union in Virgo or Mercury as the Ruler

Virgo rules the practical side of mercury. While Gemini is quick in thoughts and restless which can cause them to be in a scattered energy, Virgo is analytical, practical and grounded. Details don't go unnoticed. Virgo is related to health care, everyday tasks, an eye for detail, problem solving, fixing things, etc. You might be super focused on your work and routines when this meeting happens, to the point you become lost in details. This can lead to a meeting where you are pretty skeptical of the person, or you would want to know every detail of who they are, why they texted you, etc. You will meet in a pretty regular/ordinary manner. Think of going to get your groceries and you guys' bump heads. Virgo is the energy of a busy-body, someone who gotta run errands, check off the list, etc. This will be a pretty regular meeting, nothing over the top, no effort that you have to make to have that meeting. Go with the flow of your daily life, focus on your wellbeing, and one fine regular morning you will bump into each other. Also, pay attention to the details you would normally ignore because there might be something important that you would be overlooking.

Union in Libra or Venus as the Ruler

Libra energy is all about harmony, balance, relationships, the art of being pleasant, beautiful aesthetics, etc. It's different from Taurus energy in the sense that Taurus is stubborn and focused on materials and practical things, it's the natural kind of beauty. While Libra is the sort of beauty that radiates attractiveness, a good-looking face/style/body, etc. Libra also rules harmonious relationships, it is a very social sign. Think of a very high class event, where everything is very plesant, the interactions are super elegant, the aesthetics are super pleasing to the eye. This could indicate meeting through someone else, or meeting in a social circle, through networking, etc. Your beauty/fashion could be a significant factor in the meeting. You could meet in places related to art, fame, beauty, fashion, a place where your "image" matters, a networking event, music festivals, etc. You both could be introduced to each other through someone who is in the art/fashion industry. You both could connect over similar interests related to beauty and fashion. Or when you meet this person, you might be in a pretty well balanced/harmonious stage of your life. They might approach you in a very friendly manner.

Union in Scorpio or Pluto as the Ruler

Scorpio rules secrets, depth, taboo, intense emotions, privacy, etc. If Cancer is private and homey, Scorpio is freakin closed off shell, and the definition of intense. So, there could be themes related to privacy or secrets. If this has 3rd house connections, it's giving meeting while gossiping. You could be at a point in life where you are self-evaluating, you could be going through many transformations, you could be at a point where you are reconsidering which people to keep in your life and which people to cut off. The meeting itself can be at dark or secret place. There could be themes of alcohol, cigarettes, weapons, night, abandoned places, conspiracies, scandals, etc. You can meet through something that is quite a topic that we don't talk about just with anyone. On your first meeting, you both could be distrustful of each other, or the communication could be very lowkey and mundane (to avoid letting each other see deeply). This also relates to private accounts. I honestly can't say much about this placement. But yeah, this person or you could see each other as quite intense or closed off.

Union in Sagittarius or Jupiter as the Ruler

Sagittarius rules travel, philosophy, expansion, foreign lands, long distance communication, a broad horizon, a bigger and open mind, higher education, etc. Wherever Sagittarius is placed, it will give an air of expansion to the native, whether it's physical or mental or emotional. You can meet this person through travel or through pursuing some sort of higher education. And since it also rules long distance communication, social media is a thing here, especially if there is a 1st, 3rd or 10th house connection, since it relates to "profiles and messaging another person". Sagittarius will give a sense of abundance to the native, so perhaps you or your s/o will see each other as pretty philosophical or open minded. Sagittarius is also associated with exploration and being curious to see what is out there, so you can literally meet while having some adventure or activities where you do something to gain spiritual insight. This kinda reminds me of Ayahuasca, because you gotta travel to gain that wisdom, so take it however it resonates, it's more prominent if Sagittarius is in 12th house! So yes, this meeting will have the theme of philosophy and discussions of topics that are very wide and requires a higher perspective.

Union in Capricorn or Saturn as the Ruler

Capricorn is the energy of building something, reaching a certain height focused on building things, whether it's for your career or your hobbies or your relationships. Capricorn energy gives a structure to whatever house it's placed it. So it can be perceived as formal and ambitious. Capricorn is associated with hard work, hustle, limits, the order and structure of things, etc. It also rules the bones in a human body. And this is a classic indication for work and career. So you can meet your s/o through your work or career. Capricorn reminds me of buildings, so think of a a company or an apartment complex (depending on which house Capricorn is in). The first meeting could very well be formal and about a problem that needs to be solved. Capricorn reminds me of the color grey, and naturally quite dull colors, so take it however it resonates. There will be themes related to ambition, work, problem solving, public image, achieving a goal, etc. The situation could be pretty slow moving, but there will be this sense of loyalty and responsibility with each other. This isn't a meeting where you would ditch each other for the next two months or ghost each other after a week of talking. The communication will be carried out with a sense of responsibility! You both can be a bit shy as well :)

Union in Aquarius or Uranus as the Ruler

Aquarius is all the energy that you can't put in the label of other zodiac signs or houses. It has everything that is not classified or unusual. Uranus rules unpredictability, out of the ordinary, innovations (only when they are new, because after some time they will become a part of the ordinary). Aquarius is otherworldly. But it also cares a lot about this world. So think of humanity, environment, activism, wanting change for a better world, etc. As a first meeting, it could be super unpredictable! While Aries is the energy of being unprepared, Aquarius is kind of the same, but also unpredictable. With Aries, once you know what you got yourself into, you may plan ahead. But with Aquarius you don't know what will happen next. You both may connect over humanitarian themes, or the communication might feel super detached and aloof. This meeting wouldn't have emotional intimacy in it, there will be an aura of detachment. With Aquarius, simply expect nothing. It will happen in a super unique manner. You may want to look at the house Union asteroid is in, since it will give this meeting a better context!

Union in Pisces or Neptune as the Ruler

Pisces rules mysticism, the imaginary, dreams, visions, creativity, intuition and anything that is from the unseen realm. It has much to do with the mind, than the material world. This meeting can really feel magical or you won't be able to focus on the details. As if it just woo you away into a dreamy inner world. This can feel very intuitive and emotional. Fishes, water and waterbodies can be involved somehow. You might even meet your s/o on a vacation. There is the energy of relaxation, honoring your inner world, feeling vulnerable, etc. The communication might be pretty deep or you might miss out on plenty of details because of the dreamy nature of this situation. You might dream of this person the night before you meet them. Perhaps this person is a bit shy or you aren't able to know things/information about them clearly, (due to Neptune almost blurring out important details). It will be more passive and receptive. The places associated with Pisces are aquariums, art museums, theaters, bookstores, art/literature schools, picture galleries, etc. Look at more details of the place, in part 1 of the series!

You can book an Astrology reading with me 🌙✨️!

Stay tuned for more Astrology content ✈️!!

[goldsbitch]

Just don't talk---

-to me.

p4 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. Y/N unknowingly crosses a line, making it impossible for Lando to continue their little affair.

warnings: cursing, typos

Sometimes, the world of F1 really required one to grow up fast. Y/N had noticed strange looks from few of the team members during meetings and sessions for the whole week. She tried not to give it much thought - that was until her manager called, on a late Wednesday evening and broke the news. There were serious talks of her being replaced by someone, who used to drive for her team before and wanted back. She, as an average rookie, couldn't stand a chance and couldn't possibly play the "female driver" card (which she hated anyway). The phone call with her manager was a hard one, nothing seemed to be confirmed, but her pro active guardian angel worked on having enough close friendships around the team to know the news before it got to be known around the paddock. Her heart was racing for life, hand shaking, mind running wild. This couldn't be happening. They can't just drop her out of nowhere, she tried to convince herself.

She lived in this uncertainty for three days, constantly in contact with her own team, focusing on not failing at her job, completely ignoring any texts or calls from people outside her comfort zone. Yet, she didn't hesitate to schedule a hook up with Lando. A break though came when her manager called, informing her that she currently in negotiations with another f1 team for potential transfer, she called it a "just in case" back up, but sounded a little too excited for it being a back up team. Even when Y/N begged to know what team that was, her manager did not cave in, saying it was just too early stages.

//

What a perfect waste of time. Every evening in her busy life was a calculation, a plan to keep or alone time prescribed by herself. Tonight they were suppose to meet up with Lando, in the morning they'd texted about it, he even cracked a joke and appeared to be in a generally easy going mode. But 8pm rolled in and no text, call or even a doorbell. After a half an hour of pacing around and pretending to be busy, she found herself in a completely clean kitchen, finished emails and painted nails. Lando was rarely ever late without a note beforehand. She was not going to text him. That would be too needy. Few episodes of some sitcom, which she had to rewind several times as her attention span lasted about two minutes. Minutes rolled in like a cruel indicator of how much she took as a given that they'd see each other. How much it wasn't on the table that he would ditch her. At some point, she had to come to terms with it. But nobody was there to force to admit that she felt a strange hollow feeling in her stomach. She pushed all thoughts into the back of her head and focused on her next racing plan. That's what she was suppose to be anyway. She might face being replaced out of nowhere, she had to be at her best game. Only when she lost the option of the only distraction that seemed to work in the form of Lando's smirk, she realized how much tension she held within her. It wasn't a night filled with much sleep for her. The late night loneliness crept in, loveless mornings had pilled up over time into a tower blocking the sunshine in. She sat on her bed, second guessing every choice she ever made - was the racing even worth it all? She could have been married by now? What a strange concept. Was she ever going to do so? In a man's world, was there an option to find a lover who would not challenge her and only induce her anxiety? She circled back to her first and only love and wasn't even sure if she had the privilege to call it that as the memory of the slacker guy from her hometown literally slept through their break up. Often she'd watch her colleagues hop on the first plane to spend as much time as this lifestyle allowed with a loved one. She had yet to find out what that kind of a flight felt like.

A whole week had passed since that night. They saw each other on numerous occasions and both of them avoided each other's looks, as if they would turn to stone if their eyes had met. It was good for their public image.

Y/N was excited when her manager finally met up with her in person to tell her about a potential team transfer, should the silly season kick in hard. "I'm not saying anything is set in stone. There have just been few meetings, lawyers checked up your contract again for potential breach causes, so we did some work in the meantime," she stated dramatically over a coffee date they'd set up at Y/N's hotel room. Her manager seemed unusually giddy, excitement poking through her professionalism. "There is a possibility, now, hold your horses, just a possibility, that there might be an open seat at McLaren soon." This came as a shock wave. Y/N always admired her manager, who was always three steps ahead of everyone. Her mind started to race in many conflicting directions. McLaren was an exciting team, definitely a promotion. So was this why Lando ghosted her? Because she might potentially become his teammate? That was just a little too childish of him, she thought, judging her own choices in a hook up "buddy". "So does that mean that Oscar is thinking about leaving the team?" "Well, not exactly. Technically, nobody is thinking about leaving the team. Also, it's not Oscar, but Lando." And the penny dropped.

//

Lando had been in this business for years. He knew well enough what was up. Made sure to have people at the right places, faithful souls who loved him a little too much and were willing to breach their NDA for him. Of course he knew that Y/N's managers were speaking to McLaren. And also why. It took him by surprise, that was for sure. He was a great racer with a big potential. When he learned in secrecy that the reason why McLaren is thinking of changing up their driver line up, it wasn't exactly because of the actual racing, but more of marketing and appearing as a young hip team, it made him furious. Lando had started to become an old news for the marketers. Oscar and Y/N pairing had intrigued them. Of course he wasn't going to keep on with their little love affair. She was becoming a threat, more so outside the track than on the track. He was mad when he found out. Of course he had always kept his distance from Y/N. But this felt personal. She truly was a ruthless bitch, as his gut had told him from day one. It probably wasn't even attraction what he felt towards her, just his subconsciousness telling him to keep his enemies closest physically possible. He tried to hold of thinking about their glorious sex. There were bigger things at stake. He didn't feel threatened. Just little bit betrayed. He had to take action.

//

Once her manager left, she found herself pacing around her room yet again. Thoughts jumping one over another. Excitement skipping over anxiousness, joy being overrun by a sinking fear. She was always going to put her career first. So why was there a sudden urge to run to wherever Lando was and explain that she had no idea this was being set up in her name.

It was a strangely bittersweet feeling, standing at a photoshoot for her contract renewal. There was an unspoken tension between her and the team leaders, nobody willing to talk openly about the fact that they were about to drop her and she was talking about running to different team. But there she was, faking smiles, staying with the team for another two seasons, hating this industry more than ever before. In the end, she gave her everything just to stay in an environment that made her feel just like another clog in the all too big entertainment machine. McLaren calls were getting postponed and everyone knew what that meant, so her own personal team decided to jump for the first option that offered some security. With that, she smiled and posed again. Merely a shell of the fiery girl that bit Lando's arm just weeks ago. All this stress, loneliness and self-doubt had changed the course of her energy.

//

"Oh, you're taking the same elevator?" Lando asked, shooting arrows at Y/N as he pressed the close door button. He had imagined many times that he would slam a door in her face and this was the closest her could get to that. She put her hand into the door gap, giving him a strict eye roll. Finally, faith brought them into a place where they were alone again. "Really?" she said walking in the elevator. Lando tried to be the bigger and mature person. Being around her was making it impossible. He was angry and frustrated. "So...how are you?" she tried to break the ice. "You have never asked me that before. Are you sick?" "No, I'm just...we haven't spoken-" "-ever. No reason to start now," he said, acting as if this was all passing him by. Scrolling on his phone without a care in the world. "I didn't know..." "What..?" "I didn't know that my managers were having these talks," she said softly. There was an apology on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to actually say it. "And are you looking for my advice on how to keep the people who you pay in check? Or what is the purpose of this conversation?" "I'm just...I never wanted to try and push you out of..you know." Lando laughed. "That's some severe delulu vibe you're giving off." "Sorry?" she reacted, genuinely confused. "The audacity you have! Thinking you can manipulate the situation better than I do. Princess, I've been in the game years more than you and survived bigger shitstorms - do you really believed I'm here only because I'm a good driver? No, these games are half of the work. So no, I absolutely do not believe that you didn't know about this. And the fact that you're trying to convince me of that is highly disrespectful." Y/N was taken back, processing several conflicting reactions at the same time. The always calm Lando got pushed over the edge. And he was not done. "Next time you're drowning, don't reach out to drag me down too. You should be grateful, you got to keep your job and certainly no thanks to the shitty managers of yours, so you're welcome. I'm genuinely surprised that you landed the job you now have in the first place."

It was a lot of information blurted at her. But she got a hold of the important part. "Lando? What did you do?" He took a deep breath. He said too much. "You will never find out. Now stop talking."

Y/N hit a pause on the elevator. Not that it would help, she figured they had only few minutes extra before someone would be over to run the machine again. "The fuck are you doing," Lando exclaimed and tried to stop her. His hand grabbed her arm and Y/N got an instant flashback to the night he tied her to her own bed frame. "Did you help me?" she asked, anger spitting out of her lips. "Let's not dive into that, shall we? Now, get the elevator running." "I don't need your help, Lando." "This was not any help, I'm trying to keep you out of McLaren, so don't read into it." While that did sound reasonable, Y/N knew there was more. With that, the fire she'd been missing for weeks entered her system again. "Stop helping me, Lando," she said in a serious tone, stepping closer to the guy still holding her arm. She quickly pushed it away. "I don't need your help." She was really pushing it, he thought and bursted. "Is that so! I saw that last week. Your weak strategy and poor results nearly got you dropped. " "No, not dropped. Replacing you." "It would take the hell to freeze over for that to happen, Princess naivité. It was a straight path back to f2 at best. Get your shit together and get a grip over those who act in your name and grow up. Nobody is going to save you next time." She wondered what exactly he did, but knew that there will be a time and place for that conversation. Lando cursed himself for saying it all at once. He was there, lecturing her on strategy, while not being able to follow his own for a second when she was around. Said things he planned on keeping for himself forever. She stood in front of him and he could read the surprise on her face. Anger left her body and suddenly she never looked so innocent. Just a scared girl standing in front of him, trying to navigate their complicated world. The only reason he helped her was because he felt sorry for her. Nothing else. Definitely. "How can I repay you?" she asked, humbled by the newly found information. He took his time to respond. Prolonging this moment just a little. Knowing that soon enough, the innocent face he stared at would soon turn to its usual pseudo-tough-cool-girl mask. It was as if he saw the real Y/N for the first time. "You could stop whining and get this elevator running," he said slowly, as if his body was rejecting these words. Without any other comment, she obeyed his wish. They both turned away from each other and continued in silence. Lando had secretely hoped that she would question him more. She let out a little thank you when exiting the elevator. He watched her leave and forgot for a moment into which floor he was supposed to originally go. She paced away from his as fast as she could. These past few days have pushed her to the limit and the conversation with Lando was the last straw, the word "Princess" screaming in Lando's voice in her head.

part 5

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @multifandomwhore-003 

[babygorewhore]

Tempo

Frat!Rafe Cameron x sporty! fem reader!

As Kiara’s older sister, gifted athlete and now college student, you never had time for dating. Or time to acknowledge your secret crush on Rafe Cameron. But when your eighteen year old little sister visits, she pushes you to attend one of his parties.

W.C. 2.4k. I was requested by anon for inexperienced!reader! And size kink! I hope you enjoy!! I lowkey wanna burn this lol

Warnings! I am NOT an athlete by any means so this is very vague lol. Size kink! Inexperienced reader! Manhandling, slapping kink! (Rafe likes to be slapped) degrading, praise, oral! Fem receiving! Unprotected sex! Reader is sporty and frequently works out. Kiara is also OOC but it’s my fic lol. Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Getting a visit from your parents and little sister motivated you for the performance as you accepted flowers and praise after the competition. Your mother and father finally allowed Kiara to stay the weekend with you on campus, you managed to convince them that your eighteen year old baby sister would be completely safe with you.

You knew they were mostly attempting to keep her away from Pogues back home but with your down to earth nature she felt comfortable to get along with you.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time studying something else. Why don’t you go to a fancy art school or some shit? Follow your dreams!” Kiara flopped on your bed in your dorm and you sighed.

“Because. Sports aren’t a long lasting career choice for me. Besides, if you want to live with me, I need to have a good paying job, right?” You countered as you sipped a protein shake.

“You need to stop thinking about everyone else. Think of yourself. You don’t have a life. All you do is study, work and compete. You’ve got to be so bored.” She argues, folding her arms.

“I’m not bored, Kiara. I stay busy and I’m fine with that. And I do have a life! I have a few friends and I have you.” You mumble and she lifts herself up, walking over to you and lightly elbows you.

“You know how much I hate them, they’re a waste of money that could be used for donations but what about parties? Have you gone to any?” Rolling your eyes, you groan at her lecture.

You knew she was jealous of your freedom, considering her relationship with your parents and her full time job. But she also didn’t understand you. The pressure you’d always been under. At a young age, you were in gymnastics. Building your body like a machine while you spent everyday challenging yourself to meet your next goal. And you were good at it.

Your wall was covered in medals, your shelf had a few trophies and photographs of your proud moments.

Dancing was a natural evolution for you. Something you’d discovered when one of your gymnast friends opened their own studio after graduating high school a few years ago. The fluidity of movement, the tempo of the beat and music brought you to life. You were strong, frequently at the gym to keep up with having to flip yourself around in the air with your part time job that was physically demanding.

Your life was fast paced, a competitive streak in your blood motivated you to remain disciplined and focused. Your guilt for being so busy was one of the reasons you wanted Kiara to stay with you this weekend. But she did have a point.

You didn’t have time for dating. You’d never had a boyfriend, guys in the past weren’t exactly pleased that you could fairly put up a physical fight given your athletic lifestyle and razor sharp drive. Men found you…boring. You had an obsession with Halloween and darker things too. It was a nice change from the neon uniforms you were forced to wear.

Her question about parties reminded you of a instagram post you were tagged in yesterday and Kiara must have sensed your train of thought. “Don’t tell me you were invited to one and you’re not gonna go?”

“I’ve been too busy! Plus I wanted to hang out with you-“

“It’s tonight?” She shrieked and started shoving you to your bedroom. “What the hell are we doing? You need to get ready.”

“Kiara, I’m not going to some stupid party. I’m tired from dancing earlier and besides Rafe Cameron isn’t going to notice one person who doesn’t show up.”

“I fucking knew it. You’ve been crushing on that asshole for years. That’s why you were so happy you got into this school.” She accused and you defensively shook your head.

“No I haven’t-“

“Me and Sarah knew you liked him when you shoved him in the pool years ago when he was messing with us when you were life guarding. And that’s why you always offered to babysit during high school. You just wanted to be near him.” Kiara made your jaw drop and you turned away.

“That’s not true! He’s a dick! Why would I like someone like Rafe? That’s why I’m ignoring his invitation.” She extended her hand.

“Let me see the post.” You grumbled something about how your little sister was the one bossing you around and you slapped your phone in her palm.

She read the invite with her mouth parted. “It’s a fucking Halloween themed party? You can dress up and you’re not going? He’s obviously obsessed with you.” You yank your phone back.

“What are you talking about? He’s not!”

“He was there tonight. I saw him watching you dance in the crowd.” You gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. “And now, he’s doing something knowing you like it. Get out of those damn sweatpants and put on something cute. You’re going to that party.”

“No I’m not! I don’t like Rafe Cameron and listen here you little goblin,” Kiara ignored you as she dug through your drawers for another set of clothes.

She tossed you an oversized shirt with skulls on it, knee socks and your converse. “Here. This is good.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly? You hate Rafe!” You complained and she waved her hands.

“Yeah I do. But I want you to have fun. Let loose for one night. Show off what you worked for and finally put yourself first.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You really wanna talk to someone don’t you and you don’t want me hovering?” She was finally silent for a few seconds and you smirked triumphantly. “Fine. I’ll go to this damn party.” You walked away, preparing to change clothes but you gave her a light smack upside the head.

“Ow! The hell was that for?” She whined.

“For telling me what to do.”

You felt your heart in your throat as you knocked on the door of the house where the party was held. You could hear the sound of music and chatter from behind the door as you shifted your weight from leg to leg.

Your face was covered in makeup and your jewelry dangled from your neck as you waited. The entrance opened and Topper ushered you in. “Hey! Look who it is! The girl of the hour!” His arm slung around your shoulders and the bustling crowd cheered. You awkwardly smiled and waved. Girl of the hour?

“Cmon. Rafe is upstairs.” Just the mention of the males name made you swallow thickly and you followed him. A lot of people were wearing costumes, fake blood and merchandise from scary movies.

You recognized Rafe because of his clothing and body but his face was covered. He was wearing a Ghostface mask. Plain black shirt and jeans. Your eyes widened briefly when he turned, noticing you before you smoothed back your nerves and approached him. He met you half way and looked down at you, mask tilted.

“You did show up after all, princess.”

You give him a smile. “Yeah I did. I heard you were at the dance. Did you like what you saw?” You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from but he seemed to be enjoying it. Rafe stepped a little closer, “Oh I loved it, baby. That’s why I told everyone to dress up. Gotta celebrate my little champion, huh?”

“Champion?” You parrot and he chuckles.

“Of course, Angel. You think I’m stupid or something? I’ve been a big fan of yours for a while. I couldn’t wait to get you here so I could have you all to myself.” He trails off quietly and you feel his big hands settle on your hips, squeezing lightly.

“Well, we’re not alone,” You respond and he tugs you against him, as much as you love the mask, you wanna rip it off.

“Easy fix, baby girl. C‘mon.” Instead of walking, Rafe lifted you off the ground and you squeaked. Throwing you over his shoulder, he walked through a hallway before opening a door.

Rafe easily tossed you onto the bed, the plush covers and pillows bounced. You shakily sat up as he tore off the mask and looked down at you with a dark smolder.

“Oh, princess. You have no fuckin idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed.” He leaned down and put both hands on either side of you as you looked up at him, doe eyes staring into his.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why would you like me? I’ve never told you-“

“Like you? Baby, I don’t just like you. I think about you all the time. No one else has made me feel like this. You’ve always stood up to me and didn’t put up with my shit. You think it’s a coincidence that I liked to push your buttons when we were kids?”

You’re breathless as he tugs on the end of your shirt with a smirk.

“I like a girl who pushes back. You’re my strong girl, hmm? But not tonight. You’re not in control for once. I am.” He grips your waist, your bare skin from your top pulled up and your core pulses.

You reach up, lightly smacking him in the face. “You think you can earn my submission?” Rafe gives you a chuckle and flash of excitement crosses his eyes.

“Princess, by the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be my little fuck toy. You just wanna push my buttons so I throw you around.” His words turned you on more and you shudder as goosebumps rise on your skin. “Slap me again. Get a good one in too.”

“You serious?” You whisper and he nods.

“What? You too scared?”

You slap him. Hard. Hard enough that his face turns but Rafe doesn’t look angry. “That was a good one, baby. But I’m gonna make you forget any other fucker. I’m sure all those other dudes are all over you at the studio or some shit.” He grunts and tugs off your shirt. Exposing your torso and bra.

You have the urge to cover yourself but you resist. “I don’t have time for dating.”

Rafe pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you haven’t dated? You a virgin?”

You bristle. “No but…it’s only happened once.”

Rafe cups underneath your arms and manhandles you higher on the bed. You don’t have time to breathe before you find yourself pinned with your arms above your head, his face inches above yours. “Bet you’re soaked right now. Underneath those panties you wear.”

He reaches in between your legs and cups your cunt. “God damn, princess. This what you needed? Me to take care of you? Shut off that overthinking head of yours?” He muses and you cup his face bringing him down to fuse your lips together in a messy kiss.

He moans against your mouth and shoves his tongue inside, you separate your legs and tug him closer.

“Gonna taste more than your mouth, baby girl.” He promises and kisses down your body, peeling off your underwear.

“I’m gonna worship this perfect pussy. I’m gonna take such good care of my girl,” He mutters against your pelvis. Rafe shoves your thighs apart and buried his head in, making you groan and dig your fingers onto the sheets.

His tongue laps hungrily at your clit, sucking in all your wetness as he moans and grinds on the bed. You whimper as he fucks you with his mouth.

“You like that, babydoll?”

“Mhm! I’m gonna cum,” You stammer and he lifts up, his massive body flexing as he rips off his shirt. Exposing his fit body.

“You’re gonna cream on my dick, then you’re gonna clean it up. Are you going to be a good little whore?” He breathes and you whine.

“Mhm, yes. Please, fuck me. I need it so badly. I want you to fill me up,” You beg and he shoves off his pants. His big, thick dick slapping against his thigh.

“How can I say no to such a pretty girl?” He gives your bare ass a slap before he pumps himself a couple of times, his cock in his fist before he presses into you.

You mewl and bury your head in his neck. He growls and thrusts, hard enough that you almost feel like you’re gonna burst from how big he is. But he quickly adds his fingers to rub your clit.

“This fuckin pussy is mine. It’s so tight, splitting you in two, baby girl. Gonna breed this perfect cunt.” He huffs and your eyes squeeze shut as your peak rises.

“That’s it, princess. Cream on my dick.” He praises and your climax overwhelms you.

You cry out and sink your teeth into his naked shoulder and he moans. He moves harder, bringing slight pain but it only adds to your pleasure. He spills in you, “Gonna stuff you so full of cum you’re gonna be a brainless little doll.”

Rafe pulls out, pumping himself again as cum drips onto the bed. “Give me that pretty mouth, princess. I wanna see your eyes roll back. You can fuckin take it. Like a little champion.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @rafeinterlude @gri959 @rafesthroatbaby @slvt4jamesmarch

[lingerina]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝓛𝐄𝐆 𝐂𝐔𝓡𝐋𝐒 ／ park jihyo

➛ g!p jihyo x fem!reader ➛ 2.8k words ➛ smut ➛ public setting, spanking, squirting, creampie, praise ➛ part of SWEAT&TEARS. ➛ you thought going early meant you would be the only one there. you thought wrong.

4:30 A.M.

It might be insane to willingly be at the gym at this hour, half-asleep and dreaming of being in bed again.

But here you are, dumbbells in hand while staring at your reflection in the massive mirrors, wondering how you were able to do this before.

Once upon a time, you were an avid gym goer who was on top of her nutrition (and honoring her cravings) and an inspiration to her friends for maintaining a well-balanced lifestyle.

After getting laid off, you had all the time in the world to work harder. To cook for yourself, for your friends who were heavily reliant on takeout, and to dedicate more time to the gym. You didn’t think you’d get back into the workforce so quickly but you did, and this job was going to consume much of your time and energy.

Just cooking right after work was exhausting for you. The few days that you intended to take a break from the gym became a week.

Then, it became two weeks.

Three weeks.

Three months.

If it weren’t for incompetent management, you would’ve been able to manage your work-life balance already. You wouldn’t turn to freezer meals and fast food for sustenance. You wouldn’t have to rely on caffeine to get you through the day. It took some mild threats and a long, colorful discussion with the directors to hire more people but now that the new hires have been trained and settled, you could focus on getting your life back on track.

The avid gym goer is still in you somewhere. She just needs to be lured out again, and what better way to make a comeback at the gym than to resume your journey at an all-women’s gym that just opened down the block last month?

Having a safe space accessible to you is enough encouragement for you to pick up your gear again and return to the active life you once knew. You had to reason with yourself to get up this early and you were fortunate enough to still have some level of self-discipline to do so.

While you don’t mind working out with other women, you would much prefer to be alone. Not only is the crack of dawn the only time you have to fit in your workouts, but it’s also when it’s not crowded. You hoped you would have the gym all to yourself until you walked in and discovered one other soul on the premises.

You weren’t in the mood to interact or be perceived so early in the morning but upon making eye contact with you, she beamed and greeted you with a quick wave. Of course you had to wave back, even with how obviously dead you looked. It would be rude to ignore a pretty woman, and you weren’t that rude.

At least until you realized how often you were sparing a her a glance (specifically at her behind) while you were warming up on the treadmill. That was disrespectful.

You shake your head and assume an exaggerated wide stance, your feet planted a fair distance apart. You adjust them while observing yourself in the mirror to ensure that you won’t strain your hips. When your legs are wide enough to feel the burn but not a straining pain, you hold both dumbbells in front of you at waist level. Your eyes close, your head lowers, and you drop down into a front squat. 

You steadily drive back up while squeezing your core and proceed with the next several reps of sumo squats, unaware of the only pair of eyes in the building skimming over you.

Jihyo is no longer performing her routine. Her headphones are now sitting around her neck, and she’s more focused on the glorious view in front of her than on finishing her workout.

It’s not like she’s never seen a woman squatting before. She has.

Dozens of times.

And it gets her rock-hard every time.

She notes that today must be leg and glutes day for you due to the various squats you’ve done, and how you barely targeted any other part of your body. It’s a blessing (and a curse) for her since it’s been a week since she last got some action. That may not be long but as someone who has a decent roster of friends (and patrons) with benefits, a week without pussy is far too long.

And she’s not going to let this opportunity slip up.

She approaches you when you pause for a water break, forgetting that just because other people are up at the same time as her doesn’t mean they have the same energy as she does. “Hi!”

You crane your neck to look at her as you hydrate and greet her with a small nod. “Hello.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Are you new?”

You nod. “I am.”

She clasps her hands with a grin. “How lovely! Welcome aboard. I’m Jihyo. Do you need any assistance or guidance?”

With pursed lips and a second to think, you slowly shake your head. “No thank you. I appreciate it though.”

She nods. “Let me know if you do. I’ll be happy to help!”

You’re lying face down on the leg curl machine, your mind slowly polluted by the images you didn’t think you’d see.

With how courteous Jihyo is with extending a helping hand, you had asked her to spot you at the squat rack. As you were performing your barbell squats, you didn’t miss her intent gaze on your behind as you were going down. You didn’t miss the way she licked and bit her lip. How shameless and disrespectful she was with staring, in comparison to the polite gesture of her hands only hovering over your hips. 

Not touching you at all.

What had really seared into the back of your mind was the view that you came eye level with when you bent down to pick up your water bottle: the massive tent in her joggers.

Jihyo’s boner has occupied your mind since then. You have been laying still for the past five minutes wondering just how big she is, how friendly she has been, and how innocent her intentions may (or may not) be. You’re not one to stare and ponder the strangers around you, but she caught your eye the very second you set foot into this gym and she now dominates your thoughts and fantasies.

It’s sorely obvious that you made her horny, and now you’re aching because the effect is reciprocated.

“What’s the matter?”

Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when Jihyo’s voice snaps you out of your trance. You turn your head and, once again, come face-to-face with her pelvis. She’s standing too close to you. So close that you can make out the outline of her erection through her black joggers.

Face heated. Core clenching. 

You let your head drop back down, your grip on the side handles tightening at the thought of this woman taking care of you in.. other ways. “Nothing. Just resting.”

“Oh?” She chuckles. “But you were doing very well.”

“I just need a little rest,” you whine.

A light smack on your rear surprises you, but her laughter insists that this is all in good nature. “Don’t slack off now.”

Another smack, and now you’re the one laughing. “I’m not. I promise!”

The empty gym reverberates with laughter and squealing. 

You don’t recall when, but it quickly echoes with solid thwacks as her playful smacks have progressed to full-on spanking. You’re no longer giggling. You’re gasping, moaning, and tensing up with each slap that targets your sore ass. Jihyo’s playful jabs have morphed into something darker and more threatening.

It’s exactly what your pussy is aching for.

Being in a lust-filled haze, you don’t budge when your leggings are yanked down. Its compression and tight fit takes your panties down with it, and both garments sit at your ankles, exposing all the intimate parts of you to her–and whoever will stumble through the doors.

As much as you want to be ruined by an insanely attractive woman at this very moment, you’re still in a public place. It would be shameful to be banned on the very first day.

“W-Wait,” you pant as you grab her wrist. “What if someone comes in?”

“They won’t.”

“Doesn’t the manager come in early?”

You’re confused by her hearty laugh.

“Oh darling,” she coos, her fingertips tenderly tracing your slick folds and spreading your arousal. “I’m the manager, and I’ll make sure no one else gets to see you like this.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as two of her fingers dip inside you. 

They shove deeper in the second time. Deep enough for her knuckles to graze your hole. You were always keen on being spanked and manhandled, and she is proving just how drenched it can get you. 

The squelches of her fingers being suctioned by your aching walls fill the silence. It should be embarrassing to be turned on by so little, but you barely feel any shame. You barely feel the shame of dripping all over the padded surface, dirtying the machine with your juices as Jihyo fucks you with her fingers. You barely feel the shame of allowing the manager to ruin you like this.

And she doesn’t feel an ounce of it either.

“Such a pretty thing,” she mutters, her slow but calculated thrusts doing a splendid job at making you feel full somehow. “It would be a shame to not get a taste.”

Much to your dismay, she withdraws her fingers and leaves you clenching around nothing. “On your back.”

The machine offers little real estate for you to move significantly but with your raging hormones and a rush of adrenaline, you manage to do as told. Jihyo wastes no second getting down, spreading you open, and flattening her tongue on your slit.

The immediate touch of heat on skin is all that you need after months without action. She knows how to use her mouth, just like how you know where to grab to stay balanced as she eats you out. You didn’t think you’d ever find yourself in this exact position again at another gym, but you’re glad you do—and with someone attentive.

Your eyes roll back as her fingers fill you up again. You clutch tighter on the edge of your seat as your engorged clit gets catered to by her mouth, the sharp tugs between her teeth creating even more tension in your limbs. You don’t feel the burn of your core clenching from holding onto the machine, but you’re guaranteed to feel it later when it’s all over and you’re left yearning for more.

The lethal combination of her fingers buried in your cunt and her mouth spelling out filth on your clit is enough to rush you to your brink. You arch your back, colorful words threaded through breathy moans and pitched cries as her deep and steady thrusts work their way up in momentum. 

The lewd squelching of her knuckles brushing over your slit is deafening. It reminds you of the strength that you lack. The strength of keeping your head straight and not falling into the palms of a pretty woman. You don’t think your wet pussy can be any louder until she’s working quicker through you. For a stranger, she knows how to navigate your body a little too well.

“Fuck,” you pant, your grip on the sides of the seat squeezing tighter.

Jihyo replaces her mouth with her thumb on your clit, and you fall apart. She watches your drenched cunt cream her digits and make a massive mess on the seat. Your release streams down the surface and puddles to the floor, and the filthy view only makes her cock swell more.

She has waited long enough.

You fall limp when she removes her fingers. With your head spinning, you intend to recuperate from the ecstasy. Not a minute later, however, is your peace compromised when a massive intrusion slides inside you, prying your slick walls open and earning a loud cry from you.

You scramble to look down and find Jihyo’s cock stuffed inside you. You peer up at her with wide eyes, gulping at the smirk on her face. She slowly pulls out.

Agonizingly slowly.

You discover just how big she is before she drives it back into you. You fall back with a moan, once again reduced to a mess as your body is at her mercy. 

Your tits, confined in a low-impact sports bra, are squeezed together by her hands before she yanks the garment down to free them. Though she’s still and snug inside you, pleasure continues to surge through your limbs as she sucks on your nipple. Lips clasped and teeth nipping at the sensitive peak, she suckles and pulls and gets you flowing even more.

“Please,” you exhale. “Please move. Please!”

She chuckles and releases your nipple with an obscene pop. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Very nicely.

Nice enough for her to prop your legs over her shoulders, bend you in half (unearthing the flexibility you didn’t know you had), and fuck you.

Her pace varies between quick and mildly painful, to slow and deep and intoxicating. Your pain threshold can carry you through the phase of her drilling your aching cunt. When she suddenly slows down and her thrusts are drawn out, the brunt of the pleasure hits you.

“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she coos.

Another thrust, and she grunts. “Just a little more. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

She fucks the words out of you. What you intend to say is disrupted by the lewd noises that leave your lips. You muster a stiff nod to acknowledge her and she responds by leaning forward, forcing your thighs up to your chest, and picking up her pace.

She’s so deep inside you with this new angle. You were going to bruise and stagger for days to come, but you can only focus on how this woman’s strict fitness regime is showing in the unforgiving momentum of her hips and her effortless grip to keep you balanced, Since you barely had a breather from your previous orgasm, you’re quickly driven to that brink.

As your eyes roll back and your body arches, Jihyo smirks. She digs her fingertips into the softness of your thighs, panting as she drills you. “Go ahead, baby. Come for me.”

The machine is slick with your overflowing arousal. With how hard she’s fucking you and how much you’re dripping, the obscene squelches of her cock pounding your poor cunt echoes through the empty facility. If you weren’t so lost in lust, you would feel embarrassed about dirtying the equipment.

“Oh, fuck!,” you cry out, thighs trembling violently as you gush all over her.

The force of your release pushes her out, allowing all the room you need to spatter and spill all over the seat. She vigorously strokes your engorged clit while pumping her pulsing cock as she is just as close. She drains you of all you have before sliding back inside you with ease, courtesy of your ample wetness.

“God, yes,” she hisses as your slick walls immediately tense around her.

Your thighs lock around her neck from the sensitivity as you’re subjected to her endurance. Her persistence. Your stamina is nowhere near hers, and you wonder just how quick it’ll take for her to break you.

To destroy you.

Loud moans erupt from both of you as she bottoms out, stretching you with her girth and filling you with her load. She weaves a tight embrace on your thighs, draws out, then pistons back into you, pushing her cum deeper inside you. Your hips lift just slightly from her hold on your legs, and the feeling of her dick buried inside you is now burned into your memory.

You were going to crave it more than ever.

When she pulls out of you, you lay lifelessly on the machine.

Sweaty, ruined, and filthy.

Jihyo, on the other hand, has already straightened herself up. You assume she’s about to tell you to hurry up and clean the equipment before people start coming in. Instead, she lowers to your eye level and strokes your hair.

“You did so well, pretty girl,” she praises with a grin. “Go hop in the shower. I’ll clean up for you.”

“Really?”

She nods. “Let me know if you ever need assistance with your… workout.”

You giggle, and proceed to slide off the dirtied seat. You feel the impact of Jihyo’s strength now that you’re on your feet, and it’s even worse as you amble to the shower. 

If you’re feeling this now, you’re certainly not ready for the full soreness tomorrow.

[glorysiren444]

♰ . 𝒹opamine detox & why it’s important

⠀⠀

─── first of all what is the role of dopamine .ᐣ

dopamine acts on areas of the brain to give you feelings of pleasure, satisfaction & motivation. dopamine also has a role to play in controlling memory, mood, sleep, learning, concentration, movement & other body functions.

⠀⠀

─── what is a dopamine detox (fasting) .ᐣ

dopamine detox is a form of fasting from any activities or pleasures that produce dopamine so that drive for quick rewards decreases.

⠀⠀

─── what are the benefits of doing dopamine detox .ᐣ

𝟭 . regulates your dopamine response, so your brain can function at it’s best. when dopamine level is to high it can lead to addiction, impaired decision making & mental health problem,

𝟮 . makes you feel calmer & less anxious,

𝟯 . reduce the risk of depression that social media produces by addiction & comparing your life to other people,

𝟰 . boost your sleep quality & academic performance,

remember: benefits will always depending on the person, so do NOT compare to each other ♥︎

⠀⠀

─── what to avoid during dopamine detox .ᐣ

social media: spending endless time scrolling, liking, & commenting on social media platforms can really mess with our brains because of these little dopamine hits what keep us addicted,

gaming: especially avoid the super stimulating ones. they send our dopamine levels through the roof & make it hard to pay attention to real-life stuff,

eating junk food: high-sugar & high-fat food destroy your eating habits & body, including brain,

caffeine: it gives us that kick, but it also stimulates dopamine, which is why we gotta be mindful of our caffeine intake during a detox,

nicotine, alcohol & drugs: do i really have to explain?

watching shows: binge-watching your favorite tv shows it’s amazing way to spend time & flood your brain with too much dopamine,

⠀⠀

─── how to create a detox-friendly environment .ᐣ

𝟭 . designing a digital detox space

set up an environment that minimizes digital distractions. you can do this by creating a dedicated workspace or relaxation area where you limit or eliminate access to digital devices,

𝟮 . mindful nutrition

it’s important to choose foods that help maintain balanced dopamine levels. this might involve consuming foods rich in precursors like tyrosine (found in lean proteins), clean food & nutrients like antioxidants (found in fruits and vegetables) to support overall brain health and function,

𝟯 . engaging in low-stimulus activities

low-stimulus or low-dopamine activities are those that don't trigger excessive dopamine release. examples include meditation, gentle exercise, reading, or spending time in nature. engaging in these activities during your detox helps maintain a calmer & more focused state of mind, making it easier to resist the allure of high-dopamine behaviors & substances.

creating a detox-friendly environment is crucial to supports your efforts to reduce the impact of overstimulation on your brain's reward system. it sets the stage for a healthier lifestyle and a more balanced relationship with activities that can lead to excessive dopamine release.

─── with 𝑙ove, 𝓋ittoria ♥︎

[sanrielle]

Amazing fanart by Joanacchi! Posted here on tumblr with their blessing. Each one is based on a style that reflects a particular ancient culture's art history. (See below for descriptions provided by the artist!)

Store (buy these prints!) Twitter Instagram

Aang: Tibetan Thangka

"Thangkas are traditional Tibetan tapestries that have been used for religious and educational purposes since ancient times! The techniques applied can vary greatly, but they usually use silk or cotton fabrics to paint or embroider on. What you can depict in a Thangka is really versatile, and I wanted to represent things that make up Aang as a character."

Zuko and Azula: Japanese Ukiyo-e

"Ukiyo-e is a style that has been around Japan between the 17th and 19th century, and focused mainly in representing daily life, theater(kabuki), natural landscapes, and sometimes historical characters or legends!

Ukiyo-e was developed to be more of a fast and commercial type of art, so many drawings we see are actually woodblock prints, so the artist could do many copies of the same art!

I based my Zuko and Azula pieces on the work of Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1798-1861) one of the last ukiyo-e masters in Japan! He has a specific piece which featured a fire demon fighting a lord that fought back with lighting, and that really matched Zuko and Azula's main techniques!”

Toph: Chinese Portraiture from Ming and Qing Dynasties

"Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) was one of the longest in China! It was also a period where lots of artistic evolutions were happening, especially when it comes to use of colour! There was not a predilection for portraits during this time, but there are a lot of pieces depicting idealized women and goddesses from the standards of the time. For this portrait of Toph, I imagined something that maybe their parents commissioned, depicting a soft and delicate Toph which we know is not what she is about ♥️

Qing Dynasty (1644-1912) was the last Chinese Dynasty to reign before the Revolution. One of the most famous emperors of this period was Qianlong, and he really liked Western art! He commissioned a lot of portraits of his subordinates, and I chose a portrait of one of his bodyguards as a reference for the second Toph portrait, which I believe is much more like how she would want to be represented! The poem on top talks about the bodyguards' achievements during a specific war. I had no time to come up with a poem for Toph, so I just used the same one for the composition!”

Sokka and Katara: Inuit Lithograph

"For a long time, Inuit art expressed itself in utilitarian ways. The Nomadic lifestyle of early Inuit tribes played a huge part in that: most art pieces are carved in useful tools, clothing, or children's toys, small and easy to be transported, and depicted scenes and patterns representing their daily lives!

That changed a lot during the colonization. Since the settling of the Inuit tribes, many art pieces began to be created in order to be exported to foreigns, so they started to sculpt bigger and more decorative pieces.

Lithography, which is a type of printmaking, was introduced to Inuit people by James Houston, that learned the technique from the japanese. The art form was quickly embraced by the inuit, as part of the process is very similar to carving. Prints that are produced by inuit artists are still being sold today!

As lithography is not an old art style and it's still commercially relevant to the Inuit communities, since creating these in 2021 I have been donating regularly to the Inuit Art Foundation, not only all the money I get from selling some prints of these but a bit more, at least once a year. Hopefully, I can increase donations this year!”

[thatesqcrush]

Beautiful Sinner (Priest! Barba AU), Prologue & Ch. 1

Priest! Barba x f! reader | SVU au

Rating: NSFW for language, graphic smut, basic desecration of religious upbringing.

WC: 8.6K

AN: I am so going to hell. One way ticket for lil old me.

AN2: Big thanks to @beccabarba for reviewing and being my soundboard.

Prologue:

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been, It's been too long since my last confession.”

“Go ahead,” the voice behind the screen began. “Tell me your sins.”

You shivered at the tambor of the words spoken. And you know that your sins were also their sins.

“I'm not seeking penance for what I've done, Father. I'm asking forgiveness for what I'm about to do,” you clarified. Your voice was soft.

“That’s not how this works,” the familiar voice replied. “What exactly are you going to do?”

You let out a shaky breath and heat flushed your cheeks. You began to unbutton your blouse. “I think you already know, Father.”

— Ch. 1—

*six months earlier*

It was a blistering summer day in Manhattan, the sun beating down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows on towering skyscrapers. The pavement radiated intense heat, mirages shimmering above the asphalt street. The air was thick with a suffocating blend of exhaust fumes, unpicked garbage bags and urban heat. City dwellers sought refuge in shaded pockets, and the city seemed to pulsate with the collective desire for relief from the oppressive heat.

It also happened to be your first weekend in your new home-a nine-story walk up in Hudson Heights.

You received your pink slip and had to make the hard decision to move. Your aunt was subletting her apartment while she traveled across the Borneo rainforests. Transitioning to a more modest apartment was a challenging shift. You had to adapt to a different community vibe and recalibrate your lifestyle expectations. You had introverted tendencies but you tried to remain resilient, focusing on navigating this life change as a time to reset.

You opened the window and stuck your head out. Spanish music played outside loudly and the normally traffic filled street was closed, with people milling about. It was the annual block party for the neighborhood, with vendors and entertainment alike. The food smelled wonderful and your stomach growled in response. The sound of a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. You ducked your head, making sure to avoid giving yourself a concussion. “Coming!” You called out as your bare feet padded the floor. You knew who it was - Maria, your next door neighbor who you met on move-in day. Maria was friendly with your aunt and you knew that she had promised your aunt that she’d keep an eye on you. She was close in age to you and immediately offered you a helping hand, helping you bring up boxes. You thanked her with pizza and beer and the two of you were on your way to becoming fast friends.

When Maria had texted you earlier in the week,” ‘Block party! Want to come with?’ it was an easy yes.

You opened the door and let Maria in. “Just need shoes and my bag. Help yourself if you want anything,” you called out, heading back towards your bedroom.

You heard your fridge open, the cacophonous sounds of beverages clanking together followed by the click and hiss of a can opening. Soon enough, you were both on your way.

–

Time flew and you found yourself really enjoying yourself. Eventually Maria had to leave - she was meeting her boyfriend and his sister to head into Queens to catch the Mets game.

You were still beyond hot, the humidity was thick, almost choking you. You pulled out a claw clip from your bag and pinned your hair up. Just even having the damp strands off the nape of your neck provided some, albeit, minimal relief. In that moment, you missed your pixie cut from years prior.

The local fire department had opened the fire hydrant and there was a gaggle of kids playing in the water. You looked at the water longingly before you internally said ‘fuck it,’ and ran through the open fire hydrant. The force of the water was stronger - and colder - than you had anticipated and you let out a shriek. You ran through it once more - this time not as close to the hydrant - enjoying the water washing over your overheated skin. Sufficiently cooled off, you continued on your way through the neighborhood.

There was a generalized area with a tent set up for community outreach. Curiosity piqued, you moseyed on over. You picked up a pamphlet - St. Blaise Church. You were religious as a child, it was as how your parents raised you. As an adult, you found yourself straying away, not agreeing with the church’s ideals which contradicted your more liberal beliefs. Sometimes, though, you found yourself missing it - especially during Christmas and Easter, when the congregation would meet up together in mass throngs. There was something about community that made you wistful.

“Interested in the Church?” a voice questioned. You looked up and you locked eyes with a handsome man. That was an understatement. He was obscenely good looking. Almost as if it hurt to look at him straight on. You felt a jolt straight to your core. No one should look as good as he did.

He took your breath away with his green eyes and thick, fitted build. His hair was dark with flecks of gray at the temples. His salt and pepper beard neatly framed his jawline. The man gave you a smile, his eyes crinkling. Crow's feet gracefully fanned out from the corners of his eyes, evidence of a life rich in laughter and stories. Dressed in comfortable yet stylish summer attire, he exuded a casual sophistication. He wore a fitted polo with fitted shorts that were borderline criminal. The polo was slightly unbuttoned, which allowed for a hint of chest hair along sun-kissed skin to peek through. Immediately your brain went to the gutter.

“Miss?”

You blinked. It was as if your brain broke and you had no idea as to how to respond. He raised a brow and inwardly you melted, feeling warmth bloom through you.

“Uh, sorry. The heat is just getting to me,” Nervous laughter accompanied your lame excuse.

“No worries, it happens to the best of us. I’m Rafael Barba.” He offered his hand and you took it. As you shook his hand, warmth bloomed through you.

He offered you a beer from a cooler and you happily accepted. And over beer, you find yourself enamored with every word from his lips. You suspected Rafael was involved with the church with how passionately he spoke about it. And when he invited you to attend the Adult Fellowship group after Sunday’s mass, you found yourself agreeing.

“...the fellowship hour following the Liturgy provides opportunities to develop friendships, meet parishioners or simply exchange information of mutual interest. There are monthly birthday celebrations and seasonal events, such as Christmas and Easter parties, as well as a spring picnic. We are always looking for more—”

Rafael’s cell rang and he apologized before excusing himself. You nodded and rocked on your heels, once again taking in the scene before you as you finished your beer.

This new neighborhood was already looking up.

—

As Rafael took the call, he couldn’t help but turn around to look at you once more. His eyes raked over your form, fully drinking you in. He swallowed hard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He could feel a slight stirring in his pants, and furiously shook his head.

‘No,’ his brain argued. ‘No.’

He was not being turned on right now. Rafael tried to push the thought away and turned his attention back to the phone.

After the Householder case and resigning from the D.A.’s office, Rafael decided he needed to get away from it all. He spent the next three months holed up in his apartment, avoiding anyone and everyone.

Even if he didn’t want to - there was no one who would understand what he did. His mother was horrified and stopped talking to him. He received more than one gloating, sneering call from the recidivist he should have blocked — Alex Muños. Even Yelina spurned him.

He was truly alone.

So what was an acquitted, former ADA to do?

He prayed.

He had lapsed from religion. After working in the DA’s office and seeing all the especially heinous, depraved, evil out there - he was convinced there was no God.

He couldn’t explain why he did what he did - he did what he had to. Something called him to do it.

Was it God? Was it the Devil?

He wasn’t sure. So he prayed some more.

And then one night it came to him. The calling from God.

After a lengthy period of hemming and hawing, weighing the pros and cons, he contacted the local diocesan vocational director and began the requisite training. That training looked like pre-theology for 2 years followed by a tenure at a major seminary where he studied languages—some of which he already knew -Latin, Spanish, Greek. He also took graduate level studies in theology, including Doctrine, Canon Law, Church History, Scripture, and Liturgy.

He called St. Blaise’s home for three years. He found joy in community and spreading the Gospel. He gave to the community as much as he could possibly give. He thought it would be weird - that people would recognize him and call him a baby killer. And if they did - they never did it to his face. Rather, the community embraced him.

He was still busy as ever - mass was everyday, there were funerals, baptisms and weddings. He did outreach with the youth and began a fellowship for parishioners who were in a similar age cohort. Having saved quite a penny as an ADA, he lived off his savings. A priest’s salary was meager and he still had to pay taxes. So his salary sat in another account which went towards that.

The summer block party was an annual event, but very nubile - only in its third year. It’s where he felt he could give most back and the community could truly come together.

He hadn’t felt an attraction to any form of secular life in ages.

Until you just now.

He could use the excuse that he was a man after all. A man who used to be sexually active with both men and women alike. But before you, he was able to steer his thoughts away and put that energy into something else for the betterment of the church and community.

And then you came along, soaking yourself as you sprinted through a pump before going back for more.

His eyes traveled over you again. You were soaked, the material of your clothing sticking to you. Your tank top - now sheer - showing off your nipples which were diamond hard due to the combination of the cold water and air.

‘Fucking hell, get a grip.’

But he turned around to get yet another look, while yes’ing the person on the phone. His eyes trailed over the shorts you wore, perfectly molded to your ass and thighs. The rest of your legs were equally toned and for a split second, he could imagine them wrapped around his hips.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake.’

He wanted to talk to you more but this phone call ate up his time. Finally after what seemed like forever, he was free again. He decided at that moment, he needed to clear his head, so he sat back down and willed his cock to deflate. He closed his eyes and was about to cover his face with a hat when you interrupted him again.

“So what’s a lapsed Catholic to do if she wants to rejoin the church?”

Rafael lifted the hat off his face and sat fully. He cocked a brow. “Well, you can start by coming to mass tomorrow.”

“I suppose,” you sighed. “It’s been awhile.”

“How long is a while?” Rafael inquired gently. He gave you a kind smile. You looked away, embarrassed. Heat flooded your cheeks.

“Years,” you supplied.

Rafael nodded and then cocked his head. “Are you familiar with the parable about Jesus and the lost sheep?”

You nodded. “I’m the one that Jesus is looking for?”

Rafael nodded. “Maybe. But what about coming to mass first and checking it out before making any commitments?”

You nodded again. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hey stranger! Long time no see!” a familiar voice called out, interrupting the conversation.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Maria, now accompanied by her boyfriend.

“I thought you were going to the city,” you asked, chucking your beer in the garbage can next to you.

“Changed our minds. Plus Robbie’s sister is being a little bitch.”

That earned a ‘hey!’ from Robbie before he acquiesced. “Yeah, she is being a little bitch.”

You turned back around but Rafael was nowhere to be seen. You looked at the pamphlet once more before folding it and tucking it away for later.

“I cannot believe you spoke to Fr. Barba like that,” Maria continued.

“Wait - what? He’s a priest?”

Maria nodded. She then pointed to your still soaked appearance. “You can see your tits through your tanktop. Wrong day to not wear a bra. You look like you could win a wet-tshirt contest.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment as you looked down and realized Maria was in fact correct.

“Probably thanked God - that celibate life must be rough,” Robbie laughed. “He’s been a priest for how long? I can’t imagine not having sex.”

You weren’t listening though, too consumed in your embarrassment and attraction. Of course the hottest man on the planet is a fucking priest. ‘And of course I would basically flash him.’

Later that evening at home, you poured some kibble in a bowl for your cat and heated up a quick meal. As you waited for your food to finish, you rifled through your closet for something to wear to church. Your eyes landed on a sundress that you knew was probably much too short for church. You frowned and kept looking until you found the perfect outfit.

You told Maria that you were going to attend mass. You had already promised the hot priest you’d come to the fellowship group. If you didn’t show, then you would be a liar, and you couldn’t lie to a priest - right?

—

The following morning you found yourself at church with Maria.

“I want to sit up in the front,” you whined as the both of you shuffled into the pew.

“I’m too hungover to sit in the front,” Maria grumbled. “You think I can get away with leaving my sunglasses on?”

You rolled your eyes. “This is probably the one mass you can get away with that shit,” you replied before slapping your mouth with your palm. “I didn’t mean to curse, shit, oh no, God damnit!”

Maria laughed at your foul mouthed word salad. “You can confess to Fr. Barba after.”

The organ began to play and you stood. You motioned to Maria to stand and she ignored you, instead choosing to rest her head on the back of the bench of the pew in front of her. You watched as the altar servers carried in the items needed for mass - Cross, the processional candles, incense and Bible. Your eyes followed as Fr. Barba walked behind. He wore green vestments and you vaguely recalled that the color of the robes indicated where you were along in the church calendar.

Mass went as typically as you remembered. You sang from the hymnal, prayed along the congregation, and actually listened to the homily instead of daydreaming about being anywhere else. Fr. Barba was straightforward, discussing Jesus’ anger.

“Paul commands us in Ephesians 4:26, be angry and do not sin; don’t let the sun set on your anger. I’ve heard a lot of sermons on the “but do not sin” part: anger can give opportunity to the devil and birth all manner of hell in relationships. I’ve also heard a lot of sermons on the “do not let the sun go down on your anger.” But I haven’t heard any sermons on these two words: be angry.”

Fr. Barba paused before continuing. “Be angry. As we look upon a world of injustice and abuse, even in the church, we can learn how to be angry in love together. And we learn this the way Paul did: from Jesus. Jesus got angry. Regularly. And we see a pattern in his anger: whenever someone vulnerable or powerless suffered injustice at the hands of the strong and powerful, Jesus opposed this injustice with loving anger.”

The Liturgy of Word concluded and then transitioned into the Liturgy of the Eucharist. You watched intently as he performed prayers and rites in Latin that had existed for thousands of years.

It was time for Communion but you didn’t feel up to receiving. So instead, you just watched. As you scanned the church, your eyes locked with Rafael’s. He was watching you, a frown on his face. You felt your cheeks grow hot once more and you turned away out of embarrassment.

Mass concluded shortly after. The fellowship hour was immediately afterwards, held in the basement of the church. Maria had zero interest in attending so you parted ways before heading down. The smell of incense and something very “churchly” permeated in the air as you walked down the dimly lit stairs.

The basement was as expected, acoustic tile ceiling, fluorescent lights, that unique slight churchy smell, boxes of various items, beige metal folding chairs, long tables, pillars in the middle of the room holding up the sanctuary one floor up. There was a life-size nativity in the back, with a Joseph whose hand was broken and an unfortunate beheaded sheep statue. Someone was setting up a coffee maker and someone else was plating store-bought cupcakes.

You chit-chatted with some congregants, majority of whom you met at the block party.

As you made a cup of coffee, you were unaware of Fr. Barba entering the room. It was only when you heard his voice and the sound of people shuffling to sit. You turned, sipping your coffee as you did so. No, Fr. Barba was no longer in those ceremonial robes that hid away everything. Instead, he wore fitted dark denim with a black shirt and his collar.

Your eyes tracked him as you continued to speak with others. You made sure to glance back to the folks you were speaking with - implying you were listening when you really weren’t. You watched as he moved easily through the room, greeting people, making jokes. What a waste of good looks.

People began to slowly sit, the chatting quietly winding down. Eventually, you took a seat. Everyone sat in a circle and you felt as if you were in an AA meeting.

“Welcome,” Fr. Barba began. “Thank you all for taking the time to come today.” He turned his gaze to you and stretched his arm in your direction. “We have a newcomer.” He gave you a small smile, his eyes crinkling in the corner.

You gave a small smile and waved, before introducing yourself.

There was a more in depth discussion of the readings from the mass. You hung onto every word Rafael said. Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba, Fr. Barba you chanted in your mind as if you were trying to ensure that stayed in your mind.

He’s a priest you told yourself. He’s Father - not Daddy.

—

You became a regular at church and also at the afternoon fellowship. You were usually quiet, opting to listen more so than anything. Today was different.

Fr. Barba asked the group to share their most favorite parts of scripture; he had anticipated the majority of responses - Genesis, one of the Gospels, Proverbs. Your comment made his stomach flip.

“I personally enjoy Song of Songs,” you offered. “It celebrates sexual love.”

“Jewish tradition reads it as an allegory of the relationship between God and Israel,” Fr. Barba offered.

“In Christianity, it is read as an allegory of Christand his bride, the Church,” you countered.

“I am my beloved’s, and his desire is for me,” Fr. Barba responded.

You flushed. “His mouth is sweetness itself; he is altogether lovely. It is an unabashedly sensuous, even at times quite erotic, paean to love,” you continued as you leafed through the Bible you held.

“No matter what interpretation you choose to believe, the book is a powerful and profound reminder of the beauty and depth of God’s love for us. It is a beautiful book that has been celebrated for centuries and one that can still bring joy and comfort to believers today.”

There was a pause and then Rafael clapped his hands. “I think that’s enough to stop for now. Thank you all for coming. I’ll see you all next week.”

You hung back, helping to clean up. Slowly the group dissipated, leaving you and Fr. Barba alone.

“You’re still here.” Fr. Barba’s voice was thick and dark. You shivered in response.

“I really enjoyed myself today,” you replied softly as you approached him. You closed the gap between you and him. You could press your hands to his chest if you wanted to.

Oh how you wanted to.

Your nipples strained against the confines of your top. You wanted to drop to your knees and show your worth - take another type of communion.

‘Behave,’ you told yourself.

“Did you now?”

His expressive, bright green eyes are now dark and stormy. His jaw is tight. You swallow hard.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I won’t have it,” he continues. His voice is clipped and you shivered in response.

You shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m not playing at anything Father. I’ll see you next week.”

Rafael didn’t reply. He watched as you turned about and walked away with a deliberate sway of your hips. His eyes were focused on your ass. All he wanted to do in that moment was to haul you over a pew and spank your ass for your insolence. His cock ached and twitched in his pants.

You turned back towards him, a full smile gracing your face. “I’m really looking forward to being a member of this congregation.”

Once you were gone, Rafael sat down on a folded chair dismayed.

He was so screwed.

God almighty help him.

—

It was a delicate dance. There was a part of you that enjoyed toeing the line with Fr. Barba. And part of you felt a smidge guilty. But fuck, he was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him.

As Fr. Barba. Well, you weren’t alone in the desperate want and lust you were feeling.

He played with you in his fantasies. He knew what he was getting into when he became a priest. He swore to God to not know another’s body. It was the least he could do considering he killed baby Drew.

He wasn’t supposed to have these kind of thoughts.

It had been so long and he was under your spell.

After the group meeting, he had to hustle back to his home - a small home attached to the rectory. He made quick work of removing his clothes. He hissed as grasped his aching cock. Stroke, stroke, stroke.

Self pleasure was also a no-no.

Masturbation involved lust. It’s to use another person for your own selfish pleasure. The person becomes an object and it denigrates their dignity as a human being.

When he was around you, he wanted to throw everything into the wind. The image of your soaked tits haunted him. He threw his head back as he continued to jerk himself. Desire. You made him fucking feral.

He imagined kissing you after the meeting the second you and him were alone.

His lips crushed against yours. He pressed your back against the wall, his knee parting your legs.

One hand tangled in your hair, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot of your skin.

It was as if you released a part of him that he had kept tucked away for so long.

He stripped away your top, before mouthing your tits before dropping to his knees. Your hand moved through his hair.

“Taste me,” you’d beg. You’d beg so nicely and who was he to deny his lamb?

He imagined grabbing your ass, pulling your dripping pussy to his mouth. You would drape a leg over his shoulder, grounding yourself hard against his mouth.

“Fuck, right there. Just like that.”

He would put his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles as he pushed his tongue inside, tasting, licking, and sucking.

“You like that?”

“Yes,” you’d moan. “Don’t stop. Oh God, I am going to come. Please, fuck me.”

He would undo his belt and drop his pants, grasping his cock in his hand. He’d rub the head of his cock along your folds, teasing you until neither one of you could stand it before burying himself deep inside of you.

“I want everything you’ve got. I want to feel it all.”

“Is that what my little lamb wants? To be fucked hard like a whore?”

“Yes,” you’d beg. “Please.”

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Come for me little lamb,” he’d encourage. You’d fall apart at his words. He could imagine how your wet, soft, pussy would suck his cock in, deeper and deeper. He would imagine thrusting deep and hard, his cock dragging against your sweet spot. He’d come hard, deep inside of you, his come painting your walls.

In reality he grunted and groaned as his cock kicked. He came all over his hand and belly. He panted, waiting for his breath to even out.

‘Shit.’

—

It was a gloomy Tuesday morning as Rafael worked in his office. Homilies were a lot like closing arguments. Instead of trying to sway the jury, he had to connect with his congregants. Instead of evidence, it was the gospel.

He was distracted. His mind kept wandering to you. Were you some kind of a test for him?

You were under his skin. An itch that couldn’t be scratched. Or stroked. You had consumed his thoughts.

He tore the yellow sheet off the pad before crumpling it.

Rafael tried very hard to live a holy life, especially as he had known what life was like, could be like, outside of the church.

And until now, through God’s grace, he had done very well.

He looked at the time. Confession was to start soon. Confession wasn’t popular. Usually before the bigger high holidays, people would come in droves. But a regular, run of the mill Tuesday? Not a chance.

He had his regulars though, who would come without fail. They were long standing members of the community. Being bilingual was a big boost for the church.

Rafael put on his collar, and changed into dark slacks from jeans and then headed out.

—-

You peeked into the booth. Seeing that it was empty, you made your way in and sat down.

“Forgive me Father for I have sinned. It’s been… um, years since my last confession.”

Rafael was stunned. It was you.

‘Focus.’

You began with some menial, ordinary sins. Rafael focused on what you were saying, ignoring the throb of his cock.

“And, of course, this… all leads to the most wicked one.”

Rafael swallowed hard. “Go on.”

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Me?” Rafael questioned. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ “What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind and thoughtful. I probably shouldn’t say this because it’s so inappropriate, but you’re so fucking handsome. And it’s resulted in some wicked behavior.”

“Wicked how?” His hands ball into fists before he grabs the tops of his thighs hard, trying to steel his thoughts.

“I— I’m sorry. I need to go.” You’re stammering over your words, your heart racing.

Rafael heard the panic in your voice and he frowned. The confessional creaked as you stood. Rafael was filled with an overwhelming need to get you to stay. “We all sin. Including myself. God made us imperfect and can he really get to be disappointed in us when we do imperfect things?”

“I— I’ve never felt the way I do about you with anyone else. And I am filled with despair about wanting what I can’t have,” you reply softly. “What can I do about this? Can I say 10 Hail Mary’s or something?”

You continue. “And can I be absolved if I don’t feel bad about what I’ve done or said in the past? They’re all things I wanted to do.”

Rafael wracked his mind on what to say.

And before he could, he heard you open the door and leave. He stood quickly and pushed open the curtain. But it was too late. You were already gone.

—

Sunday mass came like clockwork.

As Rafael led mass, he scanned the pews for you. He was disappointed when he didn’t see you. He saw your friend and he made a mental note to talk with her afterwards.

“Fr. Barba, great service,” Maria commented as she shook Fr. Barba’s hand.

“Thank you. I- I am glad you came. You had been coming with your friend—“

“Oh! You mean — yeah, she couldn’t come today. She had some stuff to take care of. She’s new to the area and I know she could really use the community support,” Maria replied. She looked past Rafael and smiled brightly. “Oh there she is!”

Maria called your name. Rafael turned around and he saw you across the street. You were dressed more conservatively and he felt a wave of disappointment.

You half jogged across the street and before Rafael knew it, you had materialized in front of him.

“Hi,” you greeted as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “Sorry to have missed mass.”

“It’s okay,” Rafael laughed. “It’s not like God is keeping tabs.”

You smiled. Maria turned to you. “Was just telling Fr. Barba how you could use some community.”

“Uh,” you blanched. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, help is always needed at the community center or food pantry,” Rafael offered. “Meet plenty of people that way.”

“Yeah, sure. I - I saw in the bulletin you were looking for someone to go over your books.”

Rafael shifted. “Um, I was looking more for a CPA—“

“Well you are in luck!” Maria hit your arm. “You’ve got your own CPA here.”

“I-I am not a CPA. I was treasurer of my sorority years ago,” you explained. “But I lost my job and I need money,” you shrugged. “That’s all.”

Rafael sighed and rubbed his neck. As much as Olivia was a bleeding heart, he was too, especially with his roots. “Um, stop by the rectory sometime next week and we can talk it through.”

You smiled brightly. “Oh that would be great! Really! Thank you.”

Rafael nodded. You turned to Maria. “We have to go. Reservations?”

Other congregants had started to line up to speak with Rafael. He turned towards the line, but not without glancing back, watching you walk away.

Rafael admired you from behind, appreciating how your jeans hugged you in all of the right places. A flash of heat coursed through him.

‘God damnit, what are you doing?’

—

You never came by. Or to mass. Rafael thought you might have had a change of heart. Perhaps your flirtation with religion had flamed out. He found himself longing to see you but also increasingly frustrated with himself. He busied himself as much as possible so that he couldn’t even think of you. You were the absolute last thing on his mind.

When you rapped on his door two and a half weeks later, Rafael was more than surprised. He was downright startled, like a horse with thunder. He had been knee deep in the church’s financial books.

“I’m sorry, I hope I am not intruding. I know it’s late.”

Rafael relaxed. “No, not at all. Please, come in, sit.”

You slunk in the chair with ease and eyed Rafael’s outfit. “You don’t look like a priest.”

Rafael arched a thick brow. “And what do I look like?”

“Like a regular guy. Someone I would meet at a bar,” you shrugged as you waved your arm as if to make a point. Rafael was wearing dark jeans with a button down, sleeves rolled up and brown brogues.

Rafael laughed. “Well, there was a point in my life where you would have found me there. Speaking of bars, would you care for a drink?”

“I thought priests could only drink church wine.”

Rafael laughed again. “No, no, we can drink more than church wine.” You heard the clatter of glass and the sound of liquid pouring. “Here,” Rafael turned to you, his arm outstretched, holding a lowball glass with amber liquid. “Macallan 18.”

You took it from him and swirled the liquid before sniffing. You closed your eyes as you took a sip. You hummed, pleased. “This is good. Dangerously good.” You took another sip. “Oh this goes down way too easy.”

‘I bet my cock will go down easy.’

Rafael coughed and shook his head. “Uh, yeah, it does.” He took a large swallow of his glass and then poured himself another glass.

“You��re wondering why I’m here now. Instead of two weeks ago.”

Rafael perched himself on the corner of his desk. “I am.”

“I wish I had a reason that made sense, but I don’t. The truth is…” you glanced around the office and it became very apparent that the room was decorated more like a legal office than what you assumed an office in a church would be like.

“The truth is?” Rafael prodded.

You stood and started walking around the room. Your hand trailed the spines of the stacks of books lined up. It was then when you spotted the law degree in the corner.

“Wait - you are a lawyer? And a priest? How does that work?”

“Was,” Rafael clarified, before taking a long sip of his drink. “Was a lawyer.”

“You don’t practice anymore?”

“No,” Rafael shook his head. “Not anymore.”

You walked up to the bar cart and poured yourself another drink. You took the chair and pulled it until you were sitting directly in front of Rafael. “Tell me.”

Hours passed. Rafael unloaded everything on you - his time at SVU, baby Drew, the why to choose a life of faith.

And that bottle of Macallan?

You stood very close to Rafael. Your hands pressed on his chest. You swayed slightly and Rafael placed his hands on your hips, steadying you.

“Hire me. I’m really good with numbers.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “We aren’t going to have sex.”

You scoffed, before almost losing your footing. Rafael’s hands gripped your hips tightly. “Who said anything about us having sex?”

“Do you think I don’t realize what game you’re playing?”

“Game? I’m not playing a game. I need a job.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

You rolled your eyes. “I am not. Besides, do you even know how?”

Rafael pushed you away slightly. “Did you not just hear the story of my life?”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Father.”

“The how?”

You walked back and closed the gap between you and him. “Yeah. The how. To fuck.”

Rafael’s eyes darken. He cupped your face and you leaned into his palm. He slowly walked around and behind you. He dropped his mouth to your ear. “I know how to fuck. I’ve fucked plenty. Men. Women. I know how to make someone come.”

A rumble emanated from Rafael’s chest. You spun on your heels and looked up at him. Rafael loomed over you, your eyes growing wide. Your breath hitched. “Is that so?”

Your faces were inches apart. You were breathing each other's air, growing dizzy over the shared breath. Your heart was thumping and you were so needy in that moment you thought you were going to burst.

“Little lamb, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You let out a whine. “Please.”

Rafael lifted your chin with his finger. Your eyes searched his before settling on his lips. His beautiful pink lips that you knew they knew how to kiss. And lick. And fuck. And make someone come.

“You’re a good priest Father Barba,” you whispered. “But you’re also a good man. And doesn’t a good man deserve a little indulgence every now and then?”

The tension in the room was thick, the air electric. You almost felt moved to tears in the desperate way you wanted him. And he wanted you.

The sound of sirens blaring broke the spell. You both jumped apart. You both stared at each other. Rafael couldn’t help but notice that you were flushed, and that flush was making its way down. You worried your bottom lip.

“It’s late,” you rushed. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time.”

You spun on your heels and was about to dash out the door when Rafael gripped your wrist, pausing you in the middle of the door.

You looked back up at him with wide eyes.

“You start Monday,” Rafael gruffed. You nodded, unable to say anything.

You managed to squeak out an ‘okay.’ And before you realized it, the door was shut in your face.

—

Your first week was completely uneventful. As is the next. And the week after. You’re the epitome of well behaved and professional much to Rafael’s relief.

That still didn’t mean he didn’t imagine kissing you and then some. Or how when you leaned over his desk, he didn’t imagine lifting up your skirt and plowing into you. Or that when you chewed on your pen cap, he didn’t imagine his cock between your plump, soft lips.

Under the collar, he still was very much a man.

And you didn’t let him forget it. He lost track of the amount of times he had to get himself off. And still it didn’t nothing to quell the ache for you.

You threw yourself into the work and you actually found it quite fulfilling. You made plenty of friends and found yourself volunteering in other parts of the church - like working at the food pantry or singing as part of the church choir.

Summer ebbed into Fall. The air grew cooler. The days started to grow shorter and the leaves, once a vibrant green, were now tinged with yellow and orange, painting the city in a fiery palette.

You were working in the rectory that morning. When Myra, the arthritic receptionist, ended up in the hospital with pneumonia, you eagerly took over the job. You were busy enough with church duties as it was but it made sense for you to take over.

Utilizing your skills from past work experience, you ended up bringing St. Blaise into the 21st century thanks to Intuit and Microsoft.

Since you started, the more Rafael was able to get to know you. In turn, the more he wanted you. He did everything in his power to not even look at you for too long, at least when you were not not looking. It was hard - but Rafael was a glutton for punishment. Being around you made Rafael addicted.

It did seem as if you heeded his words - you were the utmost professional. You did such a good job that Rafael wondered if maybe he had misread the signals altogether and that one night was just the booze.

Then one particular evening, Rafael saw you walking with Maria, her boyfriend, and another gentleman. He didn’t want to stop and say hi - if anything he wanted to avoid it altogether and cross the street but you and him made eye contact. It would have been too awkward to avoid you by that point. It ended with the five of you at the local watering hole - where this gentleman who had his arm wrapped around you. Rafael didn’t enjoy how jealousy washed over him - he knew he did not have any right to you, or your body. And he would never be - you were never together like that.

You were waiting at the bar, ordering another round when Rafael joined you. You looked over at him and gave a small smile.

“So you’re on date then?”

You looked at him incredulously. “Rafael—“

“You live here, you can go on any dates and with whom.”

“He’s just— you and I— we never…

The bartender arrived with your drinks. You went to pay, but Rafael stopped you. “I got it.”

“Don’t you have to take a vow of poverty?” you asked as you grabbed some of the drinks. Rafael grabbed the remainder and the two of you walked back to the booth.

“One of the most common misconceptions about the Catholic priesthood is that all priests take a vow of poverty. In fact, most do not. Diocesan priests do not even make vows, they make “promises” of obedience to their bishop: chastity and to pray the Liturgy of the Hours. Vows, on the other hand, are typically made by members of religious orders, such as Franciscans, Benedictines, Dominicans, etc.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

You walked ahead of Rafael, a sway in your hips as you did so. Rafael’s eyes narrowed and he sucked in a breath as he followed, exhaling slowly.

When your date - Eric - as he later learned - began mouthing off about theology and religion, Rafael rolled his eyes. Still, he wasn’t going to let himself get bested and using the skills he acquired from all the cross examinations he had ever done, basically annihilated the other guy. You snickered behind the glass of your drink but Rafael saw it and felt his chest puff.

At one point - Eric whispered something in your ear. Whatever he said was enough to make you blush and shift in your seat, smiling to yourself like you had a secret. Rafael didn’t miss it at all and he felt himself stiffen and his jaw tighten. Your eyes met once more, and you witnessed the visceral reaction he was having, saw that little flex of his jaw and the way his eyes glittered with something primal and possessive. You could see that part of him would gladly punch Eric, and even as Rafael’s eyes locked with yours, he didn't hide it. Briefly, the kind and generous priest was all gone. Even the smart and sassy lawyer was superseded: you saw the man, capable of lust and jealousy. Over you. The thought of inspiring those feelings in him made heat pool in your body, and you squeezed your thighs together. His eyes registered your expression: you were certain he knew how you felt.

By end of the night, you went to hug him good night but Rafael dodged you. You frowned and bid him adieu as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. Rafael continued to head home - and had he turned around, he would have seen you still standing, watching him.

Another week went by.

The pounding on the door stirred Rafael awake. He looked over at the clock - it was a little after midnight. A breeze blew through, causing a chill to run through his body.

He tugged a t-shirt on and groused that he was on his way.

Rafael was not expecting to see you.

“Father,” you greeted. There was a very large bottle of Macallan in your hand. Your eyes trailed over the very sleepy priest in front of you. His hair was askew and he looked adorable. You swallowed at his tight white shirt and low slung gray sweats.

“What is going on?” Rafael asked. He reached in his pocket for his glasses.

“Fancy a chat about my existential crisis?” You thrusted the bottle of scotch into his arms and walked in, pushing slightly past him.

Rafael got a whiff of your shampoo and it sent all blood straight immediately to his cock. He looks back outside and satisfied not seeing anyone else, closes the door behind him. “Existential crisis?”

“Do you have any glasses?” You ask, ignoring his question, as you look around. You hadn’t ever been inside a priest’s dwelling and you were surprised at how normal it appeared.

“Wow.” You stopped misstep and looked around. “This is not what I expected.”

Rafael rubbed his neck. “Huh? Oh, what did you expect it to look like?”

“I don’t know. More holy? Crosses everywhere. Stacks of bibles? Not something out of an architectural digest - with a kitchen island!”

Rafael laughed. He took the bottle from your hand and walked over to the island where he placed the glasses. “A lot of this is from…” he waved his arm around. “Before.”

“Pre-priest Rafael.” You clarified as you walked over to where he was and took an amber filled glass.

“Yeah,” Rafael replied before taking a long drag of his drink.

You nodded and hummed before taking another sip. “When you were just a man. Who had sex. A lot.”

“I’m still a man.”

“Come on, you know it’s not the same.”

You knew better. You knew you shouldn’t.

What would your friends say, what would they do if they ever find out? What about the congregation and surrounding community?

This was bigger than you, bigger than him. What were you thinking?

But it’s Rafael. Fr. Rafael Barba. Not that it matters - he’s not actually yours. He belongs to God.

But now when he’s staring down at you the way he is right now, teeth catching his full bottom lip, sleep-tousled hair and stormy, smoldering eyes, you can’t help but fall from grace.

“Kiss me.”

“You know we can’t.”

“So? Kiss me anyway.”

“I’m a priest.”

“Kiss me anyway.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

Rafael swallowed the remainder of his drink and let out a huff. He pointed a finger toward you. “You…you’re trouble.”

You closed the gap between you and him. The room felt electric. You pressed your hands onto his chest. “So? Kiss me anyway.”

Rafael sucked in a breath. You press yourself even closer, your hips automatically seeking his. Rafael pushed you away gently. “I told you we can’t. I told you I can’t.”

“Why are you denying what’s between us?” Your hands shook as you poured yourself another glass. You turned and leaned against the island. “God made us to be sexual creatures. It’s his design. It’s his idea, his gift to us.”

Rafael sighed in irritation. “Our sexual desires are no surprise to God. He made us, and He gave us a strong sexual desire to enjoy within the proper context.” He pointed to you and then to himself. “This is not the proper context. If I wasn’t a priest, then it would be different. This is real life. What we do has real consequences.”

“If you weren’t a priest,” you murmured. You swallowed the remainder of your drink and slammed it on the island. Warmth flooded your body and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or him or a combination of both. Likely the latter. “Tell me you want me. Tell me I was never imagining things.”

Rafael remained silent.

“You have the right to lose control. I know you think—”

“You don’t know what I think,” Rafael acerbically spat. “And no, I don’t have the right.” He began to pace. “You don’t know the misery I live in when you’re not around.”

“And you think I am not?” you questioned. Your voice wavered and your eyes welled with unshed tears. “It’s never been like this with anyone. Never. I want you. I can’t have you. But please - let me live in the solace that you want me too. That I was never imagining any of it. I am going crazy.”

Rafael paused mid-stride and looked at you. He took a deep breath.

“What’s it gonna be? I am begging you.”

It was like something in him snapped when you said that. Rafael slammed his own drink before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He walked over and pressed you against the island. You let out a squeak in response. You could feel how hard he was against your belly. He brushed some of your hair back. Your breath hitched and a flush spread along your skin.

“Say it again.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“No - repeat what you said at the end,” he all but growled. You chewed your bottom lip and nodded.

“I beg you.”

“God help me. You beg so prettily,” Rafael murmured. He pulled at you, hands grabbing at hips, lips crashing into yours in a bruising kiss. It was over before you could register and you pulled back to look into his eyes. You wrapped your hands on his face and then dove back in, returning the kiss, equally as hard.

The momentum was desperate, frenzied, hands everywhere. You let out a gasp as Rafael backed you against the kitchen island. The scruff of his beard dragged against your skin, his lips working your jaw, your ear, moving down your neck, and you let out a strained moan. You pressed your hips upwards into his, feeling his erection. Rafael had to stop and inhale sharply before resuming his attack on your skin. The tips of his fingers find skin under your shirt, and dig into your flesh. One of your hands is twisted in his shirt, the other grasping the waistband of his sweats as he felt a leg curve around his; it was as if your body functioned in tune to keep him as close as possible.

Rafael’s lips found purchase on the hollow of your neck. You let out a groan as you sagged against him, melting into his embrace. The want was overwhelming.

His hands made way to the front of your jeans and he nimbly undid the button and fly before shoving his large hand down your panties. “So wet for me.”

And you are. You’re so fucking wet, it’s obscene.

The tips of his fingers drag through your slit.

“Fuck,” his teeth scraped along your jaw. “You’re soaking.”

He slid two fingers deep inside of you. You keened wordlessly into his shoulder, biting down on his shoulder to suppress a moan.

“No, no, pretty lamb. Look at me,” Rafael husked, his voice laced with an edge of dominance.

You pulled back and met his gaze. His fingers drove deep up into you, pumping, long and needy. His thumb rubbed against your clit. Your blood is boiling, your body vibrating. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers continue their momentum, finding that spongey spot inside of you that most folks couldn’t ever find.

The walls of your pussy ripple against his fingers. “Be a good little lamb and come for me.” It was Rafael’s turn to beg. “Be my good girl and give it to me.”

You chanted his name as if it were prayer as you come around his fingers. Your body is abuzz, vibrating. You whine out his name in three syllables as you coat his hand with your arousal. Rafael swallowed your cries as he covered your mouth with his. The kiss, which was initially passionate, slowed in intensity, to just soft, slow licks that almost felt reverent, worshipful. Eventually he pressed his forehead to yours and you both drank in each other’s air, breathing heavily. You whimpered as Rafael removed his fingers from your cunt. You watched him with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth. His eyes fluttered close as he let out an appreciative sound.

“Do I taste good, Father?” Your voice was laced with lust.

“My sweet, decadent little lamb,” Rafael complimented. “But we cannot do that again.”

“Do what?” You asked as you pushed him off slightly to give yourself room to drop to the floor. You palmed his cock through his pants, pleased with yourself as he groaned with want and need.

A car backfired and the sound caused you both to startle, effectively ending the spell. Rafael helped you up from the ground. “This cannot happen again.” His voice was firm. And before you could protest any more, you found yourself back outside, the door shutting in your face.

Rafael leaned against the door, his head pounding, his cock aching.

‘You idiot! You shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have given in to your melodic voice and sparkling eyes. You had no business being in his life.

But the crack he left open for you made him believe that he had more to lose now than when he met you at the block party all those moons ago.

He rubbed his face, tired and frustrated. And he went back to bed to once again to take matters in his own hands again. ‘Fuck.’

TBC.

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 10

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 5.6k

A/N: This might be my favorite chapter I’ve written so far 👀

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

“What type of flowers do girls like?” A burst of raucous laughter crackles through the speaker of his phone and Javy glares at the screen as he rifles through his dresser, looking for a clean pair of socks. The woman on the screen slumps over the wooden counter she’s sitting at, tears in her eyes as she keeps laughing and Javy rolls his eyes. “Isa, I’m being serious.”

“I know!” The woman looks up from where she’s sprawled over the counter, wiping tears from her eyes as she shakes her head at him. “That’s the best part!” Javy flips his oldest sister off as he puts his hands on his hips.

“Come on, Isa, help me out here!” He considers hanging up on her, but he really needs her help. She turns her head to make eye contact with the camera, still sprawled across the counter. The look in her eyes is a combination of mirth with a sharp glint of something dangerous and Javy swallows nervously because she looks so damn much like their mother right now.

“Tell me what’s really going on, Javier, and then maybe I’ll help.” Her voice is dripping with danger that urges him not to push her but dammit he doesn’t have time for this. He’s supposed to pick you up in an hour and he doesn’t want to be late. His mother raised him better than that.

“I have a date. I feel like I should get her flowers.” He blatantly ignores the way his heart starts pounding as the four-letter word passes his lips and focuses on the cool glare his sister is angling at him as she sits back up.

“With the girl you’re dating?” Javy’s brow furrows in confusion before it hits him. Fuck.

“Isa… Isa I can explain,” he stammers but the look he gets from her has him snapping his mouth shut so fast that he swears his teeth rattle.

“Javier Antonio Machado… you were raised by not one but FOUR women and we have to find out you have a GIRLFRIEND from the MEDIA?!” Javy flinches. A heavy silence falls between them before Javy dares open his mouth.

“It’s not that simple Isa, it’s complicated. She’s not technically my girlfriend, well she is, but that’s only on paper, she just…” He hesitates and watches his sister’s suspicious eyes narrow so he plows on. “We’refakedating.” The words rush out before he can avoid them and he watches Isa’s eyes widen and he keeps going before she can stop him. “We’re fake dating but turns out she’s actually really nice, and I think I like her, but I’m not sure because I’ve never liked anyone like this before. I don’t want her to get hurt, least of all by me, but it’s probably inevitable, and I’m really trying not to think about that right now so I’m taking her out on a date because I think she’ll like it and I want her to like it so I was thinking I should buy her flowers but I’ve never bought flowers before, I mean I have once but those were just from the grocery store and I didn’t really think about it, and this time I am thinking about it and that’s why I’m asking WHAT KIND OF FLOWERS DO GIRLS LIKE!” His chest is heaving by the time he finishes and he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. For once his sister doesn’t say anything and he feels ridiculous, standing there like he’s just run a marathon staring at her staring at him.

“Do you know her favorite color?” Isa says finally and Javy blinks a few times before he realizes she’s asked him a question. He shakes his head even as guilt bites at his stomach for never asking. She purses her lips in thought as she looks around her at the rows of pots and various greenery. “Well then, let’s get to work, shall we?” Javy lets his shoulders slump in relief as he nods nervously at his sister as she picks up the phone and starts walking around the store.

***

“Roadie these are really good!” You look away from the bathroom mirror where you’re putting the finishing touches on your hair. Unlike last time, you’ve gone as simple as possible. The green dress is elegant and you’ve elected for your usual light makeup, except for the slight dusting of gold Nat tastefully brushed on your eyelids. As you shyly regard your reflection you can’t help but feel beautiful.

You follow the sound of Nat’s voice to your living room where she’s examining the various canvases leaning against the walls. The space isn’t traditional in any sense, lacking any entertaining furniture such as sofas and chairs. Instead, you’ve repurposed the space into a makeshift studio, the space taken up with easels and tables, canvases leaning against anything and everything in various states of completion. It’s a little chaotic but it works for you. Truth be told, you’ve had more people visit in the last month than in the last three years.

Earlier, you’d stared at your phone while sitting on your bed, brow furrowing as you hesitated over who to call. Normally, Josie would be the obvious choice, but normally she’d be the only choice since you didn’t have any other friends. Tonight, however, you were faced with the possibility of options, your phone feeling heavy with the weight of all the new numbers you’ve been collecting. You could still taste the bitterness in the back of your throat after Josie had dressed you for your last date with Javy and how you’d had to explain to her afterward why her thousand-dollar heels were somewhere at the bottom of the bay. Before you could overthink your decision, you’d called Nat, inviting her over to help you get ready for your date.

To your surprise, you’ve become comfortable around her. She knows Javy, and slowly but surely she’s getting to know you, and as much as you love Josie, you can tell how much animosity she harbors for Javy. With every day that passes, you’re realizing that somehow you’ve started falling for Javy and while you’re terrified of the realization, you’re even more terrified of how Josie will react to it. Nat, however, you don’t mind. She’s only ever known you as Javy’s fake girlfriend, so if she’s going to judge you over any of your choices, it’s that, and she’s already made it clear that she doesn’t.

You make your way over to see which canvas Nat is looking at and your cheeks heat as it comes into view. The canvas is covered in swathes of dark shades of blue, silhouetting the shapes of the edge of the cliff and the roiling water at the bottom. The background is so fierce and dark that it draws attention from the tiny figures in the corner at the edge, curled around each other. You don’t normally find yourself painting scenes from your life, but something about the salt in your lungs, and the way the wind whipped around you as you became aware of your body like a live wire, has been stuck in your throat every since so you’d let the feeling pour out of you onto the canvas. You had meant for it to be a landscape, but the figures in the corner, light bluish-gray forms with no defining features, had seemingly painted themselves, flowing out of your brush before you could stop them.

“Thanks,” you murmur and Nat turns from the canvas to you, smiling.

“I mean it, Roadie. The world deserves to see them.” You squirm with embarrassment under the compliment but manage to find your words.

“I actually, I have my first gallery show next week,” you splutter. You haven’t told anyone, despite jumping and dancing around your living room when you received the news. You’ve dreamed of having your art shown at a gallery for years, a dream you’d thought was out of reach for the time being until you’d gotten the call earlier this week. “It’s not much, just a pop-up event for one night, but it’s something.” It’s everything. Nat blinks at you for a long second before she screams and jumps up, almost knocking over the easel in her excitement and she wraps you tightly in a hug, jumping up and down and you can’t help but join in.

“Oh, Roadie! That’s amazing, congratulations!” She squeezes you tightly and you try to force down the tears welling up in your eyes at Nat’s enthusiasm, trying not to ruin the makeup you’ve just finished. “You have to give me the info so I can swing by!” You freeze, surprised at the offer. You hadn’t even considered that anyone would actually want to come.

“But, but you’ve seen everything already,” you wave a hand at the room around you. She looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I mean yeah, but I haven’t seen them all hung up! Plus, I want to come see YOU, silly! This is huge, we have to celebrate!” You swallow hard as your lip begins to wobble and Nat’s eyes soften as she pulls you back into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay, that’s what friends do, okay? We support each other, we cry together during the losses, and we celebrate the wins no matter how big or small. I’m so proud of you, Roadie and I hope you can be proud of you too.” You nod into Nat’s shoulder, sniffling as you try to hold back overwhelmed tears. When she pulls away, she motions for you to stay still while she disappears into your bedroom, coming back with a tissue that she carefully uses to dab at your wet eyes, making sure not to smudge your makeup. “One more thing,” she digs into her pocket before she shows you a clear tube and when you frown at it in confusion she unwraps the packaging before carefully applying the clear gloss to your lips. “There we go, subtle but has the perfect amount of zing.” She holds up her phone camera for you to examine the way your lips shine with the clear gloss. She’s right, it’s subtle, not tinted, but it makes your lips look for lack of a better word, juicy. It feels sexy while being simple and it[‘s your turn to hug Nat.

“It’s perfect, thank you, Nat.” She squeezes you back before letting you go and pressing the small tube into your hands.

“Just so you know?” She says with a fond smile. “I’m rooting for the two of you.” You feel your cheeks heat at her words and you surprise yourself when your next words come out.

“Yeah, me too.” Before she can reply your doorbell buzzes and your head jerks towards the door as your eyes widen. Javy’s here.

“Go get him, tiger,” Nat says as she pushes you towards the door, gently and you shuffle over, stopping to bend over and step into your shoes for the evening. Another product of your and Nat’s shopping spree, they’re simple wedges that provide good support and are much shorter than the shoes Josie lent you.

You unlock the door with shaking hands and the sight on the other side steals your breath. You’ve seen Javy in a suit multiple times before, from the day you met, to your first date, and then yesterday at the game, but the sight of him in a full tuxedo has your heart skipping a few beats. The tuxedo is a simple black but the sight of his crisp dress shirt buttoned to his throat, complete with a black bow tie has him looking more handsome than the sexy that his usual style tends to lean towards. You’re so busy ogling him that you don’t see the flowers at first but your breath catches as your eyes find the brilliant orange flowers. You reach out a shocked hand to trace the curves of the tiger lily blossoms as you try to ignore the voice in your head screaming that you have their pink cousins currently wilting on your kitchen table after you’d excitedly purchased them for yourself last week.

“Hi,” Javy says and his voice is so soft you almost convince yourself that he’s as out of breath as you are.

“Hi,” your voice is breathy as you finally tear your eyes away from the flowers back to his face. “Tiger lilies,” you whisper like it’s a question and he looks down at the flowers like he’s just remembering he’s holding them.

“They reminded me of you,” he says to the flowers before he looks back to you, and your brow furrows in confusion. The blooms are bright and bold, shaped like trumpets that announce their presence, nothing like you. “They’re delicate and shy,” he runs a finger along a bloom that’s slumped over slightly, “but they’re also bright and full of life.” He gives you a gentle lopsided smile that almost knocks you over. Even so simple and small, it feels like you’ve been hit by a sunbeam and you can’t help the way you smile back.

“Thank you, Javy, they’re beautiful, I love them.” You reach for them and as he hands them to you, you realize they’re in a vase already.

“My sister, she runs a flower shop, and she said if you should get a proper bouquet made so whoever you’re buying the flowers for gets a gift instead of a chore, or something like that.” He scratches the back of his neck with his now-empty hand.

Before you can answer, the door opens wider and Nat appears. “Well look at you, who knew you clean up so nice? I’m gonna head out so you guys can be on your way, but I’ll take those first.” She takes the vase from you and heads back inside as Javy gapes after her.

“Sorry, I invited her over to help me get ready-” Javy turns back to you, shaking his head.

“No, no, that’s fine, great even.” He pauses before thoughtfully adding, “She needs more friends.”

“JAVY MACHADO I HEARD THAT!” Nat yells from inside the house before she emerges, glaring at him. “Fuck you, too.” She says flashing the finger at him before stomping past the two of you and heading for the parking lot. Javy sticks his tongue out after her. “Have fun, you two, and Javy if you do anything stupid, I’m calling your mom!” She calls and you watch Javy blanche slightly at her words before he turns back to you. You watch the worry slide from his face as he looks at you.

“I know I’ve already seen you in the dress, but you look beautiful, Meep.” Your cheeks heat at his compliment. He offers you his hand and you take it without a second thought, letting him lead you down to the parking lot. When you reach his car you frown in confusion as he opens the passenger door of the Land Rover.

“Where’s your car?” You ask as he helps you into the passenger seat. Javy looks like a deer caught in the headlights as he answers.

“I, uh, thought we could just go out tonight. Just us, no press or anything.” You feel your cheeks heat to match the way his have to be.

“Oh,” you whisper.

“If that’s okay with you, I mean,” he stammers awkwardly. You consider his words. He’s giving you an out if you want it. This isn’t a part of the contract, and you both know that. And yet you don’t want to get out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s okay with me, Javy.” You try not to focus on the way relief transforms his face as he grins at you before closing the door and jogging around to the driver’s side.

***

Your eyes are wide as Javy hands his keys to the valet in front of a gallery that you recognize the name of. You’ve never visited but the artist’s name emblazoned on the banners outside makes you slightly dizzy. Javy offers you his arm and you take it before turning to question him. “Javy, what are we doing here?” You whisper urgently as he leads you inside and towards a table where a woman with a clipboard is seated. He ignores your question to address the woman.

“Machado, party of two.” He says, flashing a polite smile at the woman and she blinks at him in surprise before she checks the list on her clipboard and gives him a saccharine smile as she hands him a pair of paddles that catch your attention as Javy pulls you closer and you look up at him, surprised before you catch the predatory gleam in the woman’s eyes and the way Javy’s gone rigid against you. You curl against him, silently reassuring him with a squeeze of his arm. You feel him relax at your touch and then he turns away from her.

You reach for his hand, fingers brushing as you take the paddles from his hand, examining the numbers on them as Javy silently leads you to a pair of double doors and into a big room. There are tables around the room and a stage at the front with a podium. He leads you to a table that’s currently empty as people are still arriving. When you sit he finally turns to you, and you see exhausted frustration in his eyes and you reach out, placing a green-painted fingertip against his lips. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” you whisper and his shoulders relax. You watch his lips pucker slightly in what could be construed as a kiss to your finger. You withdraw it and reach for his hand, squeezing it in yours. “Don’t let her ruin our night,” you remind him and he nods. In an attempt to take his mind off it, you gesture to the room. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” You ask.

He surprises you by leaning his forehead against the side of your head as you glance around the room. “Come on smart girl, you tell me,” he says and you hope he can’t hear the way your heartbeat is in your ears. You reach for the paddles he’s set on the table, turning one in your hand thoughtfully.

“An auction?” You ask, cursing the way your voice shakes in nervous excitement. He nods against your head before he straightens.

“Attagirl, I thought it might be something you’d be interested in,” he explains and your heart flutters in response. “Have you ever been to an art auction, before?” He asks and you shake your head.

“I can barely afford to make my own art let alone buy anyone else’s,” you admit before you can stop yourself and you cringe in embarrassment.

“Well that’s what I’m here for,” he watches your eyes widen in surprise and your mouth open to argue but he shakes his head. “My treat, if you see something you love, let me know. Plus, I need some pieces for my apartment, and I want to get something for my mom. I don’t really have a great eye for this kind of thing, so I figured I’d ask a professional,” he tips his head in your direction and you feel your cheeks warm. “You’ve seen my place, let me know if you see something that’ll look good there.” You nod, dizzy at the prospect of Javy valuing your opinion enough to want it.

“Okay,” you relent and the grin Javy turns on you may be worth more than all the art that’s going to be sold tonight.

***

“Javy,” you hiss as he raises his paddle, brow furrowed as he glares at a little old lady whose paddle is also up. The painting currently up for auction is a gorgeous modern impressionistic take on a rainy night in the French Quarter and the moment Javy had set his eyes on it, you’d seen the adoration and nostalgia in his eyes. It’s gorgeous and you think it’ll make the perfect centerpiece for his living room and you told him as much, but things have quickly spiraled out of hand.

“$30,000” the old lady exclaims indignantly and you feel sick to your stomach.

“$35,000” Javy retorts, and your eyes threaten to bug out of your face.

“$38,000” the old lady aims a sharp glare back at you and Javy.

“$50,000” Javy’s voice is almost lazy and you gape at him as he shrugs and smirks at the old lady who’s gone white as a sheet.

“$50,000 from the young man in the back. $50,000, going once,” The auctioneer calls, looking impressed. Javy arches a challenging eyebrow at the old lady who’s gaping at him. “$50,000, going twice,” Javy gives the old lady a nonchalant shrug. “Sold to the young man in the back for $50,000.” He finally turns to you and you’re still gaping at him.

“$50,000?!” You squeak at him and he shrugs.

“You said, and I quote, ‘It’s beautiful, and it would be like having a piece of home in your apartment and it would make the perfect centerpiece for the living room,’ and I remember telling you I trust your judgment.” You shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Not for $50,000!” You hiss and he rolls his eyes.

“I thought you believed in supporting artists,” he says, arching an eyebrow at you and you throw up your hands in exasperation. He leans in then, whispering so only you can hear. “You know if you let me see yours, I’d bet it’s worth a lot more than $50,000,” you roll your eyes even as heat creeps up your cheeks. Your art isn’t worth that much. You’re not so self-deprecating that you don’t think your art is good. It is, but it’s definitely not worth anything financially, especially since that’s not why you make it in the first place. Your art is a creative outlet, a way for you to process emotions that are too big for yourself, the words you can't bring yourself to say, a way for you to scream without saying a word.

You’re saved from retorting by the reveal of the next painting and your breath catches as the assistant steps away from the painting he’s just placed on the display easel. It’s a simple landscape at first glance, but the colors are what take your breath away. It’s a sunset over the bay, the cliffs beautifully silhouetted in shadows and you’re reminded of the view from Javy’s car on the way here tonight as the sun progressively sunk to the horizon. The flurry of oranges, purples, pinks, and blues, feels so perfect that you almost wish you’d painted it yourself. You almost don’t hear the auctioneer as he confirms the first bid until your ears catch the end of it. “...from the young man in the back,” you turn to Javy, lips parting in surprise as you catch him looking at you a fond smile on his face that he quickly schools.

“Javy,” your voice is a whisper but he just shakes his head gently as he turns back to the auction and counteroffers as bids come in from across the room. You have to excuse yourself, looking for the bathroom as the tears rise unbidden to your eyes. You dab carefully at your eyes as you stand in front of the mirror and try not to think about how Javy is currently spending thousands of dollars on you. You start with surprise as the door opens behind you and the little old lady from earlier walks in. You brace yourself for her anger but instead, she chuckles when she spots you before giving you a fond smile.

“Young love,” she remarks to no one in particular before she addresses you. “You’re a lucky lady, you know that? He reminds me of my Nathan,” she says with a bittersweet smile that you return as you nod. “Have a good evening,” she says simply before walking past you to a stall. You resist the urge to splash some water on your burning cheeks, leaving the bathroom before she finishes, hurrying to get back to Javy. As you approach the table, you spot a woman standing next to Javy whom you quickly recognize as the lady from earlier in the night. You frown as you approach and then you catch Javy’s voice. “I told you already, I have a girlfriend, so I’d appreciate it if you left us alone.” You can hear that he’s gritting the words out through his teeth and you feel anger wash through you. The lady doesn’t seem deterred by his words and you approach, hands shaking equally from nerves and rage. You watch as she places a possessive hand on Javy’s arm.

“I believe he asked you to leave him alone.” The harshness in your voice surprises you and you watch Javy and the lady turn towards the sound of your voice as you approach. “No means no.” You say firmly as you reach out and forcibly remove her hand from Javy’s arm. “Now please leave before I have someone come make you.” You don’t believe your own threat but she seems to as he eyes widen and then she turns and heads back the way she came as you glare after her. Once you watch her exit the room, you turn back to Javy, brows furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

***

Javy stares up at you like you’re an avenging angel, your gentle fingers replacing that woman’s claws on his arm. He shifts so the tablecloth hopefully hides the beginning of what he’s sure is going to be a very painful case of blue balls. He realizes you’re still looking down at him, worry swirling in your eyes and he almost pulls you into his arms then and there. His fingers itch to bury themselves in your hair and he wants to climb inside your skeleton to get as close to you as physically possible. Instead, he simply breathes the words rattling around inside his skull, “Thank you.” Your eyes soften and he can’t stop the way his eyes flit down to your perfect plump lips.

“That’s what friends do, right?” You say with a soft smile and your words are a proverbial bucket of ice water that’s been dumped over his head. Friends, right, friends. Javy doesn’t know much but he knows he’s never wanted to tear the dress off of one of his friends. He also knows he wouldn’t have just spent ten grand on a painting for a friend, but he also knows he needs to let you set the pace here. It’s the best advice he’s ever been given as much as he hates that it came from Bradley Bradshaw. As you sit back down next to him and turn your attention back to the auction he thinks back to a week ago.

***

“I just don’t want to fuck this up,” he admits, squirming in the chair he’s currently sitting in. Around him, curled up on the couch and sprawled on the floor are Bugs, Zam, Dragon, Nat, and Josie. Josie’s been glaring daggers at him since she arrived and honestly, he’s surprised that she showed up, but he has a feeling it has more to do with girl code than any particular desire to help him.

Zam regards him thoughtfully from where she’s seated on the couch, hugging a fluffy pillow that looks like a new addition. “Well that’s the first step, I think. You know what you want, and you know you don’t want to hurt her anymore,”

“Though why you hurt her in the first place is still a mystery,” Josie remarks from her spot next to Zam.

“That’s not why we’re here,” Bugs reminds her while giving Javy a soft look that tells him he needs to have a chat with his best friend about secretkeeping. “We’re trying to find a way to move forward, not back. Zam’s right, acknowledging the problem is the first step in making any progress toward a solution.

“What the fuck?” Javy’s stomach drops as everyone’s eyes follow his to where Bradley Bradshaw is standing at the entrance to the living room.

“Bear! You’re home!” Zam chirps happily, ignoring the irritation blossoming on her boyfriend’s face. It softens slightly at her greeting as he answers,

“Hey Honey,” before he turns back to the the scene taking place in the living room, roving over the girls’ faces before coming to a stop on Javy. “What the fuck is he doing here?” His frown deepens.

“Javy’s acknowledged that he’s in deep shit, and has called upon the sage knowledge of the Dogfighters’ Council of Ladies.” Bradley’s brow doesn’t budge.

“That still doesn’t explain why he’s HERE.” He points out and Zam rolls her eyes.

“Well we wanted to meet somewhere where all the ladies are,” she points out, waving a hand towards a small table next to where Bradley’s standing. Javy had cloaked it when he first arrived. On it are two picture frames, one of a couple that must be Bradley’s parents and the other of a woman who looks like an older version of Zam. There are also two vases, filled with daisies and irises respectively. The fight surprisingly goes out of Bradley as he follows Zam’s hand.

“Fine, am I ordering pizza?” He asks, heading for the kitchen, and Zam brightens.

“Yes, please!” He shakes his head but Javy can tell it's an endeared exasperation. “Okay now, back to business, ladies, what do we think Javy should do?”

“Leave her the fuck alone, that’s what,” Bradley calls from the kitchen where he’s tapping away at his phone.

“And why is that?” Zam turns to face him, glaring at him over the back of the couch.

“Are you kidding? She’s too good for him. She deserves better.” Bradley says without looking up and Javy hates the way his stomach tightens because he knows Bradley’s right.

“That’s rich coming from you, Bradshaw,” Dragon remarks and Bradley looks up, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Mr. Grumpy, ‘I emote with my fists,’ Mr. ‘I punched my girlfriend before the first date’ who’s dating someone that’s absolutely out of his league wants to talk about ‘too good’ and ‘deserves better?’” She arches an accusatory eyebrow right back at Bradley and in that moment Javy’s reminded of who her dad is. Splotches of heat climb up Bradley’s neck and he looks chagrinned. “You want to participate, maybe you should be the one giving Javy some advice.” Bradley puts down his phone and leans against the kitchen counter, looking at Dragon for a long moment before turning to Zam and Javy watches him watch her, fondness mixed with anxiety in his eyes.

Finally, he turns to Javy, almost against his will. “Fine, you want to get her back? First, apologize, and really mean it. If you don’t, don’t even bother. And if she accepts your apology? Take things at her pace, and give her control. She’s a nervous little thing, so let her take the lead. Only go as far as she lets you. Relationships are built on trust and right now you’re fresh out. You won’t get anywhere without it so you have to build it. Show her she can trust you. That’s it. The rest will take care of itself.” He shrugs before he picks his phone up again and continues ordering the pizza.

“Damn,” Josie speaks up. “I hate that he’s right.” She turns to Javy. “But I’ve been married to a hockey player for ten years and honestly that’s it. It all comes down to trust and respect. If you can earn that, you have a chance.” She thinks for a long moment, “Well that and she has to be attracted to you.”

“Is she?” Javy asks before he can stop himself. Josie snorts in response and it’s Nat that speaks up.

“Yup, definitely.” She pops the p and Javy’s head jerks to look at his friend. “That’s all I’m giving you, Javy, so don’t you dare come sniffing around for more. We hung out when she came to watch practice and she definitely likes you,” Javy tries to ignore the way his stomach flip-flops at the reveal of this new information.

“That poor girl,” Bradley mutters from the kitchen. “Alright, Machado, you got your advice, now get out of my apartment.” He jerks a thumb towards the hallway.

“But Bradley, what about the pizza?” Zam pouts at him.

“It’s ordered, but it’s Council-only, he’s not staying,” Bradley says, crossing his arms across his chest, leaving little room for argument. Dragon does anyway.

“You’re not on the Council,” she points out from where she’s sprawled out on the floor.

“I live here and I paid.” Bradley shoots back.

“I’ll pay half,” Javy offers and Bradley’s eyes narrow as they come back to him. “Or I could pay it all,” he amends and Bradley considers the offer.

“Fine, but the moment the food’s done, you get out.” He states firmly and Zam cheers as Javy nods and pulls out his wallet.

***

Javy smiles to himself at the memory and the fact that Bradley had given him the money back on his way out with strict instructions to buy you some flowers with it. He’s doing his best, even if it’s not great. You seemed to like the flowers at least. But as he looks down to where you’re holding his hand, he wonders if maybe he’s not doing so bad after all.

A/N: Y’all… I think he’s in love 🥺