#if this gets enough attention I will make another part

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't enjoy the chapter ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone. 

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.” 

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine. 

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing. 

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

[weltraum-vaquero]

i was scrolling through pinterest and i came across a prompt: “i can’t focus with your damn hand on my— ooh..” i IMMEDIATELY thought of jayce 🫢 can i request sumn like that? i love your work so much 😭😭

Hi anon, this prompt drove me insane. Thank you so much!

Play (dirty)

Jayce Talis x GN Reader

Summary: A fancy play at the Piltover Opera is a good excuse as any to deck out. And an even better excuse to have some fun with your partner.

Word count: 2.5k

MDNI. Mature content under the cut.

Tags: Sub Jayce, slight exhibitionism, dry handjobs, heavy petting, alcohol consumption

Jayce could never stand still. There’s something in him that’s constant, restless, relentless. Always the type to fiddle, to twirl his pen between his fingers, to scratch at his own scruff in thought, to chew the inside of his cheek, to bounce his leg. His mind is a hyperactive, brilliant thing; equal parts blessing and curse.

He does it now, too — bouncing his leg, that is, under the fine silk of his prettiest burgundy slacks (his ass, though nothing to write home about, never failed to look tremendous in those. Something about the thin, generously revealing material seaming to the humble curve of his ass in a salacious display). Jayce taps his fingers on the sturdy oakwood of the theatre chair as he stares at the still lowered curtain, crosses his legs, sighs, uncrosses them, bounces his leg again.

It’s the final stretch of the second intermission, though the play isn’t particularly doing it for you, mainly because you’ve seen this exact rendition before, with Jayce at your side. Just… not from up here: an opulently designed balcony, all to yourselves, just shy of the stage. Generous courtesy of Salo for a favor taken rather than given from Jayce, a situation that’s been stressing him out something fierce these past few weeks. You digress. That’s not what matters anymore — he’s earned a break. He’s earned something good.

It’s a lovely opportunity to spend some time with him outside of the confines of his lab or your shared home, which is growing increasingly rare. It’s a lovely opportunity to put on your shiniest clothes and make a pretty sight for one another.

Undeniably, that’s been the best aspect of it. Jayce has been sneaking looks at you the whole time — perhaps bored with the play, perhaps too enticed with you. And you can’t exactly blame him, because you’re not doing much better either. 

How are you meant to do anything when you have a much more captivating sight to take in, sitting tensely in the chair next to yours?

A dark shirt that hugs the proud swell of his chest just right (certainly something to write home about), a pretty burgundy jacket just the same warm colour as the fruity merlot he’s finished sipping on, lingering on his plump lips. Silk curling at the seams, stretching under the heft of his now thicker thighs as they rest on the seat, tie loosened just so, and he’s good enough to eat. 

You lay a warm hand on the inside of his leg, and Jayce, as he always does, yields. Less on thought, more on instinct, always so eager, before he turns to look at you with a question in amber eyes gone chocolatey dark in the low light of the room.

“Hm?” 

His cologne hits you in a peppery-sweet, floral wave as he leans in, leans closer, and gives you the attention you’re so clearly demanding.

“Should I get us more wine?” You make feeble conversation, more eager to hear his voice than his thoughts. He’s been sharing most of them in whispers throughout the play so far as is. 

Jayce shakes his head, flashes a conspiratorial, boyish little smirk. “If I have any more, I might um,” he breaks out in a short, clearly tipsy giggle, “do something I really shouldn’t be doing up here.”

His hand finds yours, pinkies twining together in a near juvenile but vulnerable display of his affection, a plea for affection. And, oh, his eyes, though his pupils are blown wide, glitter mischievously like a cat’s about to pounce. Two can play that game… 

“Mm. That would be a terrible look on you,” you emptily agree. “Think of the headlines… Man of Progress caught moaning during Winter Solstice play, Man of Progress bent over the railing on the opera’s most lavish balcony…”

Jayce nods, a little drunkenly. Leans in for a kiss before he breathes: “Terrible.”

You let him have it — how could you not? Let him sloppily lick at your mouth like an overeager puppy for a long, dizzying, smooth-merlot attempt at a kiss. He smiles into it, as if in thanks.

Before you give a gentle little push at the plush swell of his chest with your other hand, pacing him, pulling away to leave him in a dazed little stupor. His breath hits your now slick lips in a warm, wet brush.

“Intermission’s about to end.” You pat his thigh less sensually, more like you’d pat an obedient dog for a trick well done. “Better keep quiet and focus on the third act.”

It looks like it pains him to settle back into his velvet seat, so you leave your hand on the top of his now still thigh — a reminder, a promise. It keeps Jayce on his toes more than the narrative unfolding before you does. Well worked sinew draws so tight you can feel it vibrate even under the soft layer of plush fat on his thighs, and as the action in the play begins to find its inevitable build, you find your hand wandering. 

Just to the inside of his thigh, first, where he’s softer, which he gladly offers up to you. Fingers draw patterns more intricate than the paisley on his vest, until poor, tormented Jayce begins to shift in his velvet seat. Tilts his hips this way, then that, then readjusts his whole frame in the seat with an awkward clear of his throat when it creaks.

The rich tones of a singular violin crescendos in sync with the dip of your hand further, up, up, until you reach that tense tendon on the inside of his leg, where his thigh seams to his hip.

And further inwards, his straining cock nudges the back of your knuckles through the silk of his pants. Jayce jumps with the contact… Poor, poor thing.

“Aw, Jayce...” It’s both pity and reprimand, a whisper so low he can barely hear it. The flesh of his thigh spills from between squeezing fingers; it has him lowering his head in shame and trying to breathe through it. If not for the sacred quiet of the imposing room, for the performers playing their instruments as deftly as you’re about to play him, he would have at the very least whined for it. A low, pleading, dog-like sound.

Instead, he shoots you a look. Desperate and dazed and wide-eyed all at once in the dark of the room, before it turns into a kind of anger that does not and will not bite. Nibbles on you like an angry puppy, more like.

“How d-do you expect me to focus when your damn hand is—“ and you give him what he wants, “o-oh.”

Grabbing a handful of the straining outline of his dick through his pants, rubbing just once, from the wet patch on the tip to as far down as the silk allows.

“Better?” You ask.

Jayce breathes a terrified, shivering sigh.

“I don’t know,” he whispers.

“I can stop,” you remind. He knows it to be the truth intimately; though he aches to please to a fault, Jayce has learned a thing or two about respecting his own boundaries by now. You trust that if he needs you to, he will give you the word.

“Don’t.” Armrests gripped so tight they could splinter, eager hips raise off the theatre seat to chase your hand until your palm cradles his leaky tip once more. Wide eyes flutter closed and cherry slick lips part in a muted expression of bliss.

“Then don’t make a mess,” you breathe into his ear. “And keep quiet. Can you do that, baby?”

Jayce nods desperately, and does a surprisingly great job at swallowing another moan as you twirl your fingertips around what should be the crown of his cock, silk gliding under your hand akin to well oiled skin. He lets it happen gladly, spreads his legs in welcoming especially when you reach further down, until the dainty weight of his balls sits cupped in the groove of your palm. There, you linger, simply holding him where he’s most sensitive, unmoving.

Jayce exhales shakily, baby doe eyes flicking between you and the hand between his legs in questioning, in hope. The soft, still cradle of your palm turns greedy as you feel him up, fingertips curling around the heft of his bulge, his cock pressing into your hand. All of him trembles with how he stifles a gasp into the back of his fist.

You simply knead at him idly, the way a satisfied cat would as it purrs, and make a show of diverting your attention back to the play you couldn’t care less about. It gets him off, in some capacity, to be touched but not paid attention to. It had made him soil his pants so quick, once, simply letting him have his pleasure against your thigh while you were busy with a book, and it’s a technique you employ on occasion since. Coupled with the fact that Jayce, touchy and needy as he is, hasn’t gotten much chance at release lately, you know for certain he will find it now, and fast. 

The glossy silk has gone sticky wet at the very tip of his dick, so much so it even leaves your hand damp after an indulgent squeeze at it. Below, horns blare with the oncoming climax of the play, music daunting in its grandeur even from up so high. In spute of such an enticing distraction at hand, you can’t help but marvel at them as you palm Jayce’s cock. And you recognize the melody the very next moment, the thrill of hearing it for the very first time; just as you know the end Jayce is approaching with intimate familiarity, so do you remember the next part of the play. 

It will go quiet for a long, breathtaking moment to draw the audience to the edge of their seats, the calm before the storm — and Jayce, judging by the sweat on his brow, the way he almost tears into the back of his fist with his canines, Jayce will not, cannot be quiet.

The realization must hit him at the same time as it hits you, because his free hand grabs yours in a death grip, a decidedly desperate attempt at halting the inevitable. 

“S-stop,” he whispers, his lips meeting on the p just moments before the entire orchestra quiets. 

You can hear every bated inhale in the grandiose room — but none of them as sweet as Jayce’s. The whole room buzzes, alight with the anticipation of the audience. 

Jayce squeezes your hand vehemently, like the weight of his barely contained orgasm threatens to crush him. His thighs clench around your hand, his body curls, he exhales in a silent cry, before he presses his hand to his lips so hard it makes you wince. You lean in close enough to be able to hear his thoughts, let him hide his face in the fabric on your shoulder.

“Breathe,” you coo at him like he’s in pain, stroking your thumb up, then down the aching outline of his cock. It makes his hips jump. “Once the music starts again, I’ll take care of you.”

You can feel him nod his head against your shoulder, can feel his grip slacken, can hear the tension in the room crackling like lightning when a violin starts a short-lived solo that is soon joined by the rest of the orchestra in a tsunami.

Jayce lets go of your hand, spreads his legs as if to offer himself up on a silver platter to you — full, complete trust. You slip the buttons of his pants out of their eyelets fast, aided by the near oily slipperiness of the fabric, the press of his cock, which have the front flap popping open the rest of the way.

Your hand slides down the bump of his soft, fuzzy tummy, into his pants, his underwear, easily, because it’s warm, familiar territory. Cradling all he’s worth in your hand, you scoop both his cock and his balls from the confines of the silk, laying them out vulnerable and exposed to the cold air.

It forces a gasp from Jayce, fortunately lost to the music, instinctually going to cover himself with both hands at the sensation and the prospect of being at the mercy of such a grand, full room.

“I’ve got you,” you remind him. Deft hands reach for his breast pocket, stealing away his handkerchief from him. Even dazed like this, Jayce understands your intention easily, and wins another battle against his instincts as he lets his hands fall away from where they’re cupped over himself protectively. One hand fists the silk of his pants, and the other wraps around your forearm not in guidance, but in seeking, of your presence, of you, grounding himself.

Jayce goes perfectly still as you stroke his dry cock, from root to swollen tip. It can’t be satisfying, you know so by just the feel of your hand around him, the way his foreskin drags with the grip you have on him, up, over his leaky cockhead, then down, exposing him where he’s most sensitive. It can’t be good, but it’s enough, because Jayce whines, quiet and half-terrified as he hides his face against your shoulder, before he goes rigid with your next upward stroke. 

And you do that thing he likes so much — his tip’s smeared in enough of his precum to facilitate an overstimulating twist of your palm around just the ruddiness of his crown. His mouth falls open in a silent wail.

Jayce is so easy. Shoots his load into the handkerchief you bring up to his cock just in time, lets you milk all his overwhelming orgasm’s worth into the fabric until he can’t help but clench his thighs around your still moving hand. Trembles in time with his twitching cock as you wipe the strings of cum off his sticky, swollen cockhead and stuff the handkerchief back into his breast pocket.

The orchestra quiets once more, for good this time, and the audience’s applause roars. There won’t be much time until the lights come on, so you make quick work of tucking him back into his pants, and once Jayce regains some of his mental footing, he helps you button them back up.

Just in time — the lights blind you, but not as much as he does. Sitting low in his seat, slick with sweat, disheveled in his best clothes, and smiling at you so wide and dopey he shines, Jayce is brighter than any light, any sun. His chest rises and falls at a fierce, breakneck pace as he catches his breath.

You lean in to grant him a well deserved kiss to the cheek, one he chases with his mouth instead, and smiles into when you lick what remains of the by now long dried merlot from the ridges of his lips.

It makes him smile wider, a blush that matches his suit perfectly blooms on his cheeks. He takes the hand you’d stroked him with, intertwines your fingers like the lovesick fool that he is. You squeeze back, like the lovesick fool that you are, and can’t help but gaze into his eyes even as the eager applause slowly fizzles out.

“They clapped for the wrong performance,” you whisper to him. “You were far more glorious than any play.”

[thriftyshark530]

For writers that like hurting their characters

(you know who you are)

Any semi serious injury to the arms or legs can be fatal. If an artery is struck the person can bleed out in 2-5 minutes. If an artery is struck then blood will be violently spraying out of the body, as opposed to regular bleeding where the blood just leaks.

A way to stop severe bleeding is with a tourniquet. A proper tourniquet that you would expect to find in any trauma response kit, as using a shirt or anything in your environment as a tourniquet won't be very effective. The tourniquet should be placed a few inches above the wound, and tightened. The tightening process is going to be extremely painful, as it's clamping down hard enough to cut off the blood circulation. Important to note that a limb won't be at risk of being amputated unless the tourniquet has been applied for hours.

Another way to stop severe bleeding is wound packing. This is where you take gauze and fill up a wound with it. The point is to cover the area that's bleeding, so that you can apply pressure to the specific part of the body that's bleeding heavily. Applying pressure directly on top of where the blood is coming from should get it to stop, however this will again be painful for the victim.

Losing blood makes it harder to regulate your body temperature, so it's extremely dangerous to be losing blood in a cold environment. However, a victim can still get cold in warm areas from blood loss, so most trauma response kits will have specific blankets that will help the victim regulate their temperature.

Any wound that punctures the chest area is extremely dangerous. Air will begin filling into the chest cavity, which will leave the lungs with less room to expand. Eventually the lung or lungs will collapse from the lack of room, this is extremely painful. And this will all be even worse if the attack pierced a lung, which will be filling with blood. All of this will make it extremely hard to breathe. There are pads in a trauma response kit that you place over a chest wound, and they're designed to vent air out of the chest cavity while not letting any more air in. However lungs filling up with body fluids is not something you can treat on the field, and will require proper medical attention.

Getting clapped on the ears hurts and can disorient you.

Any impact to the nose will make the sinuses flare up and the eyes water, making a fight more difficult.

Any impact to the back of the skull can be fatal, or cause severe brain damage.

It's extremely easy to rip off a human ear.

The liver is located on the lower right side of the rib cage, it would be on your left side if you were looking at someone else's liver. Any impact there can put any person on the ground, as it's extremely painful to be hit there. Punches to the liver drop many professional boxers.

Kidneys are mostly the same, except they aren't protected by anything at all. Located in the lower back, the kidneys are completely unprotected from any attack. Any impact here can drop someone just like a liver punch. (I was in the gym one time and hit my kidney pretty hard on a bar and almost collapsed from the pain)

A proper punch is thrown in a way to where the knuckles are the only thing that make contact. This is so that all the force is being spread out across a much smaller area, increasing the damage to the victim.

Any impact to the neck can be fatal, and will make a person immediately start choking, making them completely open in a fight.

Removing anything that's impaled into a person will only make them bleed out faster.

Your body will force you to inhale right before drowning, which we all know it burns like hell to have water in your lungs. Plenty of people that have almost drowned have said that their body forced them to take a breath, even if there was no air to breathe.

The brain inhibits your full strength, as we're strong enough to completely rip our muscles. In times of need, the brain will let go of this limitation, basically granting you super strength. There's plenty of cases where someone was able to lift something off of someone, such as a lawn mower or car, but wasn't able to move it at all later on.

While you can live without water for a few days, maybe even longer than 3 depending on a bunch of factors, that is specifically "living". You can expect to see severe side effects of dehydration long before the person dies. Extreme kidney pain, headaches, hallucinations, dry skin, some organ failure ect.

paradoxical sensation is where you're so cold that you actually feel hot. Plenty of people have been in extremely cold environments and started removing their clothes, as they were so cold that they felt like they were burning.

The body will begin to eat itself if it's gone long enough with no food.

You have an extreme lack of depth perception with only 1 eye. You can test this out by walking around and doing tasks with only 1 eye open.

When blood and dirt and anything else gets in the hair, untangling the hair and straightening it out is extremely painful. It may even result in pulling some hair out, it might be better to shave it off if it's bad enough.

Any recent wounds sting when exposed to water, which makes taking a shower a nightmare when you have multiple of these on your body at once.

As popular as the trope is, consciousness has no effect on your survival. The "don't go to sleep" while a character is bleeding out doesn't really help, meaning you can let your character pass out or fall asleep while they're dying. This can lead to a character thinking they won't wake up while they're fighting off sleep, only to wake up in a hospital bed.

[jesswritesthat]

Bakugō Katsuki: Class

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.4k, fluff

• Teaching your class at U.A. was an amazing experience but that’s because they don’t know who you’re dating. Until they find out that is.

Warnings: Post time skip spoilers, cursing

>>>>——————————>

You stared at them with a deadpan expression, one that the ever devoted Class 2-A had grown accustomed to over the past year that they'd experienced with you as their Homeroom teacher.

"I told you. I'm retired."

"We know (L/n)-Sensei, but you're like only in your twenties." One of them argued, brow raised in confusion.

"So is Midoriya-Sensei." Now part of you wanted to mutter an additional 'but not for long', however that wasn't your surprise to deliver.

"Different circumstances. You could still do the whole hero gig, especially since you're well trained enough to kick all of our butts without breaking a sweat." Another stood from their desk to contribute rather eagerly.

"Trust me, I have enough of the hero business to deal with once I get home."

———

Of course, they'd never be able to comprehend such a topic when they had no idea you were in a relationship with the number fifteen hero himself, Bakugō Katsuki. You'd hear the villainous tales, the torturous reporters, and dabbled in a few first aid sessions.

This lingering aftertaste of hero work was enough to satisfy you after your retirement, and Katsuki respected your career choice providing you were happy with it. If he had the time he'd even offer to help out with any work you'd bring home since he could still ace any exam put in front of him even now.

However, with your respective busy schedules meaning any time you got to spend together was appreciated. Even if it was a day like today when you'd been gifted the opportunity to do some shopping in the district - Katsuki wearing a hoodie and mask to prevent the whole idea of socialising with anyone but you.

Yet, timing was not on your side. Katsuki had pulled his mask down to meet your lips in a chasté kiss, brief glimpse of a sentimental smile gracing his expression whilst remaining in proximity.

“Oh. My. Wash.” Odd reference to hero no.8 but still, Katsuki and yourself snapped to the nearby interruption finding familiar sets of shocked eyes staring on.

"The hell is wrong with you?" The blonde aggressively barked, flicking to the teens with festering irritation. "Never seen a damn kiss before? Grow up!"

Immediately you grabbed his hood, pulling him back to you close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Katsuki... they're um... from my class."

He froze up then once you released him and looked back to the group with an expression of pure resentment. 

"Fuck."

"Yeah, fuck." You confirmed under your breath, sighing hopelessly when meeting the sparkling gazes of admiration from your students.

"You're dating a pro hero?!" One of them exclaimed, another following in just as enthusiastically.

"No no, you're dating THE pro hero!"

"He's not top ten so technically—" Meanwhile you deftly attempted to subdue their excitement as it began to garner the attention of passersby.

"He's famous! All that stuff during the war, plus he's like a living legend. That man is a freaking powerhouse, I wanna be as cool as him when I make it to the pro leagues." Another proudly claimed, pointing finger guns at Bakugō who only tsked in response wearing his classic glare. Noting the accumulating attention he fixed his mask, reaching for your wrist and angling himself in front of you.

"Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight and (L/n)-Sensei. Who'd have thought it?"

It started to grow out of control, the lingering onlookers surrounding you both and your students in a crowd, then erupting in applause and flashes.

"Did they say Dynamight?! Take a picture!”

"PRO HERO DYNAMIGHT IS HERE!!"

Before you knew it, fresh air brushed your skin and Katsukis' hand lingered on your lower back.

"You good?"

"Dating a pro hero is definitely not boring." You breathed relief, the pair of you looking back in the direction of the shopping districts and both silently agreeing to walk the other way.

"Is when ya can't even browse in peace."

"It's okay, we can grab ramen and head home?"

"Work gonna be okay for you?"

"I'm sure I'll get questioned about it, but the kids will be fine.” You shrugged it off, figuring they’d probably find out eventually anyway.

"Get Deku to talk to the shitheads."

"Izuku is... well being strict isn't his strong suit... so..."

"That wimp can't even manage a bunch of brats?! Course he can't, damn idiot." The blonde moodily attested, flicking his crimson gaze back to you with a cunning smirk far too menacing for his proposition. "If you want, call me and I'll assist in a training session from hell."

"Katsuki, you cannot blow up heroes-in-training regardless of your ‘Explosion Murder God’ title.”

“It builds character. Gotta toughen up if they want to be pros don’t they?” He held the door to a small restaurant open for you, smirking proudly with his justification. You could only shake your head with a laugh.

“I guess you’re right.”

———

As predicted, the next time you saw your students at U.A, the questioning immediately ensued.

"Today for our English lesson—"

"How'd you meet?" One of your students abashedly cut you off, the moment you’d stepped into class no less.

"By accident. Anyway I have some worksheets—" Again you attempted to continue as if nothing had transpired, as if no revolutionary news had been discovered, as if the entire class hadn’t already heard about it.

"How long have you been together?"

"Long enough. These sheets will—" In vain, you tried, a girl putting up her hand and not even waiting to be selected before speaking anyway.

"Do you wanna get married?"

"I want to get this lesson done. I'm not answering anything about my personal life." Hands on your hips, you faced them with a scolding expression - intimidating enough for them to get the message.

"Dynamight is coming for the sport festival this year right? We could ask him him then."

"You... you do realise the man you're talking about? Mildly snappy, questionable people tolerance, a little explosive..." Saracasm flowed through you, for his attitude toward the public was the sole reason he wasn’t ranked higher. Based on hero ability alone, he would be undoubtedly top three.

"And your boyfriend."

"And my boyfriend." Was your deadpan reiteration, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose before sighing. "I am highly against this, if you do get to speak to him, it'd be wise to gain valuable advice on hero-related subjects. But for now, this is worksheet explains..."

———

Thankfully, your class had stuck to their word, the event no longer became a tangent for questioning. Aside from for hero advice or genuine check ups on Dynamights’ well-being after a particular gnarly attack portrayed on the news the previous night.

Indeed, they also remained true to their word by tracking the infamous hero down during the sport festival. Cornering him in one of the halls of the stadium before the next upcoming event - no doubt on his way to find you or Midoriya-Sensei.

"Dynamight! Dynamight wait up!"

The hero met the approaching group with a scrutinising side eye, scanning each student and narrowing upon recognition.

"You brats again."

"Yes, but there's a few things we wanna ask you!" One of them desperately explained, trying keep his attention and presence in tact. Meanwhile Dynamight growled lowly, folding his arms with an accusatory glare potent enough to send them running for their lives in moments.

"I swear this better be good else I'm outta—"

"It's about (L/n)-Sensei."

"..." A second of silence. His features softening minutely with his tone morphing to one less antagonistic. "Go on then."

———

Izuku sat opposite you in the faculty room, fingers occupied by the warm cup of tea he was currently nursing after delivering the information to you.

"He... he actually told them?"

"Yeah." Izuku nodded in confirmation, his carefree grin far too chipper for the matter at hand.

"Without yelling?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why...?" It was retirical, almost mystified, but Midoriya only laughed and answered you anyway.

"Kacchan has no problem talking about things he likes or is interested in, it's been that way since we were kids. It just so happens one of his favourite subjects is you (Y/n)." Again he spoke brightly, you think even he is besotted with the situation.

"Izuku, don't say cheesy stuff like that!"

"Sorry, if it's any consolation I think if they asked any 'dumb questions' he'd have shooed them off."

Following your conversation with Izuku, returning to your class came with a sense of both unease and comfort. Apprehensive about how they would react toward you from now on, especially since you weren’t clued up on the details of the conversation they’d had with your boyfriend.

"Hey 2A, I heard your interrogation went well."

"Oh yeah? Did you get told that at home?" One of them replied happily, the exchange between you that of a playful one which left you rolling your eyes with a smile.

"No, Midoriya Sensei filled me in. I haven't seen Dynamight, he’s busy with hero stuff y'know."

"We found out everything we wanted to know so we won't pester you anymore. Also asked about hero stuff like you said." He continued, watching as you focused on writing the lesson objectives on the blackboard rather than the conversation.

"There was one thing that piqued our interest though." One of the girls giddily added on as if it were a trade secret they were all in on. Unawares to you, the entire class held a unanimous feeling of bubbling expectance, like a time bomb waiting to go off.

"Uh huh." You continued writing, lacking investment in the whole ordeal.

"He said wants to marry you too."

The snapping of your chalk echoed a little too heavily in the anticipating silence of the classroom.

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[eu-nicola]

not yours part 2

summary: Rafe Cameron is the perfect boyfriend… but not yours, but Sofia’s. However, fate plays against you when you become the only person capable of understanding him in his darkest moments. What begins as a dangerous friendship soon becomes an attraction impossible to deny.

warnings: nothing i think

word counter: 9057

author’s note: english is not my first language and how I love to use movie quotes, please please tell me if you want to be on my taglist as I'm going to make a new one

tags: @immyowndefender @xcinnamonmalfoyx @wtfdudesblog

The night had started off quiet, too quiet for your liking. You had met up with some friends at the usual club, but soon everything became monotonous. Loud music, laughter, a few interested glances from boys you didn't care about... Nothing new. You were used to standing out, to getting attention, and today you felt a latent need for something different, something that would get you out of that routine. What you didn't expect was that the night would take an unexpected turn and that you would end up running next to Rafe Cameron, with your heart beating a thousand miles an hour.

It all started with a simple misunderstanding. A group of unknown boys approached you at the bar, insisting on drinks and comments that went from flattering to annoying in a matter of minutes. At first, you tried to ignore them, but one of them didn't get the message. His hand rested on your arm with too much confidence, pulling you as if he had the right to do so.

"Let me go," you said firmly, looking him straight in the eyes.

The boy laughed, as if your words had no weight, and continued to insist. You didn't like being treated like that, as if you were just another one they could manipulate at will. You were about to let go when Rafe appeared out of nowhere, as if he had been observing the situation from afar. His mere presence changed the dynamic in an instant.

"Do you have a problem?" Rafe asked, his tone calm but full of tension, as if he was already ready for anything.

The boys looked at him, assessing him. Rafe didn't need to say much to command respect; he was the kind of person who could make someone doubt with just his gaze. But this time, the boys decided not to back down.

"It's none of your business, buddy," one of them replied, defying the calm that still remained in the atmosphere.

And then, everything exploded.

What followed was a succession of quick movements, blows and pushes. Rafe was the first to attack, with a precision that made it clear that it was not his first fight. You, though surprised, weren't far behind. You'd always had that explosive side, that energy that made you face things without thinking twice. One of the boys got too close and without hesitation, you pushed him back with more force than he expected.

Chaos broke out. The music was still playing in the background, mixing with the screams and the sound of glasses falling to the floor. Adrenaline was running through your veins. You weren't scared; you were alive, more alive than you had felt in days.

In a matter of minutes, it was all over. The boys were either on the ground or far enough away that you wouldn't try again. You and Rafe barely looked at each other, there was just an exchange of quick glances and the urgent need to disappear.

"Let's go," he said, taking your hand without waiting for an answer.

And you ran with him, leaving the club as if you were escaping a fire. Laughter began to bubble in your chest as they ran through the dark streets, away from the chaos they had left behind. Rafe, always so serious and controlled, was laughing too, that sincere laugh he rarely showed. It was contagious, and before you knew it, you were both cracking up.

“What the hell was that?” you asked between laughs, finally stopping in a dark alley where no one could see you.

Rafe leaned against the wall, still breathing heavily. His face was illuminated by the distant lights, and for a second you realized how rare it was to see him like this, so relaxed, so… human.

“What we do best, I guess,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. There was a spark in his eyes, an emotion that mirrored yours.

You leaned against him, breathing deeply as you tried to calm yourself. The silence between the two of you was comfortable, a pause amidst all the adrenaline.

“You know?” you finally said, turning your head to look at him. “It was fun.”

Rafe let out a soft laugh, tilting his head at you.

“Do you like getting into trouble?” he asked you with a lopsided grin.

“No more than you do,” you replied with a wink.

After a few more minutes, Rafe straightened up.

“We better get moving before someone finds us,” he said, holding out his hand to you.

You took it without hesitation, letting him lead you back to his car. The engine roared as they drove away from the place, and you, with the window open and the wind hitting your face.

A few minutes later Rafe’s car stopped in front of your house after a ride in which both of you had remained silent. But it wasn’t awkward.

“Well, here we are, princess pogue,” Rafe said with a crooked smile, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye as he turned off the engine.

You laughed softly and turned to him, leaning your elbow on the car door. That nickname had something of a mockery to it, but it didn’t bother you. If there was one thing you had learned in all this time with him, it was that this mix of sarcasm and humor was part of his charm.

“I know. So exotic, so out of your perfect world, right?” you joked, faking an arrogant expression while you looked at your nails, as if you were the queen of the entire Outer Banks.

Rafe let out a laugh, one you had rarely heard from him, deep and sincere.

“I almost feel like I should ask you for an autograph before you enter your mansion.”

“Sure. But I would charge you… and I don’t think I would be able to afford it, Cameron.” You joked back, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Rafe shook his head. There was something about you that threw him off, took him out of that character he always wore.

“Don’t underestimate me. Maybe I’ll surprise myself and have enough to pay for your expensive autographs.” He replied with a mocking smile.

You laughed again, enjoying that lightness that was rare when you were around him. Rafe had a reputation, and you knew it better than anyone. But at times like this, he felt different, more human, closer.

“Well, we’ll see if you get lucky next time.”

You opened the car door and climbed out, the cool night air hitting your face. From the open door, you leaned into him once more.

“Thanks for saving me from those idiots. I think I could handle it though…” you said with a playful smile.

Rafe looked at you with a mix of amusement and something else, something you couldn’t quite figure out.

“Sure, but… it doesn’t hurt to have someone watching your back, right?” He winked at you.

“No, it doesn’t hurt.” you admitted quietly.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment longer, a moment suspended in the air before he looked away and started the car again.

“See you soon.” He said before speeding off and disappearing into the darkness of the night.

You stood on the sidewalk for a second, watching the taillights of Rafe’s car fade into the distance. There was something about him, that mix of danger and calm, that made you feel alive. Something that drew you in, even when you knew you shouldn't.

With a sigh, you turned and entered your house. 

The next day, sunlight filtered timidly through the curtains of your room. You woke up early, as always. You could still feel the echo of the laughter shared with Rafe on your skin and how the emotion of the moment had left you in an almost euphoric state. But today, that emotion had to take a backseat. It was Sofia’s birthday. And that meant that your best friend needed you. 

Still between the sheets, you grabbed your phone and sent her a message:

“Happy birthday, Sof 🎉! I hope you’re ready to be the center of attention today… Although that’s not much different than any other day, right?”

Sofia’s response came almost immediately. 

“Thank you!! ❤️ I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. I don’t want anything to go wrong tonight.”

You laughed softly, imagining the mix of excitement and anxiety that was probably shining in her eyes at that moment. Sofia had always been like that, wanting everything to be perfect.

You quickly wrote a reply:

“Relax, everything will be fine. I'll come early to help you with whatever you need. You're not going to do this alone.”

“You're the best. Seriously, I don't know what I'd do without you. See you in a bit! 😊”

You got out of bed, already with a clear idea in mind. The night was going to be important for Sofia, and you were going to make sure it was perfect. After all, she was your best friend, and her happiness had always been on your priority list.

You went to the bathroom, took a shower, and got ready with the same dedication as always. You liked to be impeccable, and today would be no exception. You opted for a casual but elegant look: light shorts and a tank top in a neutral tone that highlighted your tan. Your hair was loose, with soft natural waves, and a touch of makeup that highlighted your eyes.

Before you left, you took one last look at yourself in the mirror, making sure everything was in its place.

You grabbed your bag and walked out, walking towards the Cameron house.

When you reached the door, you couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill. There was always something about that house that gave you a mix of nerves and anticipation. You knocked softly, and before you could wait too long, the door swung open. Sofia was there, beaming, with a wide smile and an energy that seemed contagious.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed, hugging you tightly. “Thank you for coming. I don’t know where to start… there are so many things to do.”

“That’s what I’m here to do, calm you down and help you organize everything.” You hugged her back just as intensely, smiling. “First, breathe. Everything’s going to be okay. Today is your day, and you have to enjoy it.”

“I’ll try,” Sofia replied, giggling nervously as she led you inside. “But you know how I am.” If something goes wrong…

“Nothing is going to go wrong,” you interrupted her firmly. “Trust me. Now tell me, where do we start?”

Sofia led you to the kitchen, where there was an endless list of things to do: decorations, food, everything needed for a party that promised to be the event of the month.

When they finally finished, the sun was beginning to set behind the horizon. The house was impeccable and elegantly decorated. Sofia had taken care of every detail: lights were strategically hung to create a warm and luxurious atmosphere, while gold and silver tones dominated the place, reflecting the theme of the night. The atmosphere promised to be spectacular.

Sofia and you went up to her room together to get ready.

“I can’t believe everything is ready,” Sofia said as she opened the door to her closet. “I thought we would never make it.”

“See? I told you everything would turn out well,” you replied with a smile. “Now comes the best part: getting amazing.”

Sofia pulled out a long, silver-colored dress, fitted to her figure, with rhinestone details that captured the light in a mesmerizing way. While she changed, you approached your own selection of clothes that you had brought with you.

You chose a simple but elegant gold dress with thin straps that left your shoulders and back bare. It wasn’t the most impressive dress you’d ever worn, but for the occasion it was more than enough. You slid it smoothly down your body, adjusting it in place, and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“What do you think?” you asked, turning slightly to see your reflection.

Sofia, now in her silver dress, looked at you with a smile.

“You look beautiful, as always. That gold is perfect for you.”

You smiled, accepting the compliment, although deep down you still thought you could have chosen something more dazzling.

You sat in front of the mirror to fix your hair. You opted for soft, natural waves, which fell gracefully over your shoulders. You didn’t want anything too elaborate; just something that would complement the dress and enhance your face.

The makeup was simple but effective: a subtle eyeliner that highlighted your eyes, a touch of gold shadow to highlight the theme of the night, and lips in a nude tone that kept the look elegant but discreet. You made sure every detail was in place before standing up and putting the finishing touches on a pair of small, delicate earrings.

“Ready,” you said, turning to Sofia.

She looked at you with pride and excitement.

“We look amazing. Tonight is going to be perfect, I’m sorry.”

“Of course it will be,” you assured her as you both walked down the stairs. “Everything is ready, and you look spectacular. This is your night, Sof.”

The house was already beginning to fill with guests arriving one after another, dressed in matching gold and silver tones. Music floated through the air, and the lights danced softly, reflecting the luxury and exclusivity Sofia had wanted for her birthday.

As you watched everything unfold, a part of you felt calm. They had worked hard, and now it was time to enjoy.

The party was going on with a calm and elegant atmosphere. Guests moved between the decorated rooms, chatting, laughing, toasting Sofia. There was an enveloping calm that you liked; you felt comfortable, but there was also something in the air, a feeling that something could change at any moment.

You decided to take a walk around the mansion, observing the people, their gestures, their glances. You moved gracefully, with a drink in your hand, enjoying the atmosphere and that subtle feeling of being part of something special.

That was when you saw it.

Rafe was leaning against one of the walls, observing the crowd with an indecipherable expression. He didn't seem lost or bored, just... attentive. As if every movement around him had a meaning that only he could decipher.

You slowly approached him, until you were next to him.

"How was the party?" you asked him with a smile, breaking the silence between you.

Rafe turned his face slightly towards you. His blue eyes met yours for a moment, intense but calm.

"I'm enjoying myself," he replied, with that calm and confident tone, as if nothing in the world could alter it.

You nodded, and the smile remained on your face.

"Me too," you said. Silence settled between you two again, but it wasn't uncomfortable, it was as if words weren't necessary for a moment. It was just the two of you, amidst the distant murmur of the party.

Suddenly, you felt his gaze.

It wasn't a casual look. It was a lingering look, as if every detail of your face captured his attention. His eyes scanned every line, every shadow, every expression. It was an intense look, but not uncomfortable, almost as if he were in a daze, lost in that moment. There was no judgment or coldness, just something you couldn't quite define.

You noticed it. You felt it. But, to your surprise, it didn't make you nervous.

You didn't know how to feel about it. There was something intriguing about being watched like that, something that made you wonder what exactly he saw. So, almost without thinking, you looked at him too.

Your eyes searched for his. And for an instant that seemed eternal, they met. Two gazes that held each other, that understood each other without words, that explored something beyond the obvious. There was no noise around them. There was no one else at that moment.

Finally, they both separated their gazes, as if something invisible had reminded them that the world kept turning.

“Behind every beautiful thing, there is some kind of pain,” you said quietly, almost like a thought out loud.

Rafe looked at you again, this time with a slight glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He nodded slowly, as if those words resonated with something he himself understood, something he carried within.

There was nothing else to say at that moment. You gently stepped away, leaving the glass on a nearby table.

“I’m going to walk a little,” you told him, and he simply watched you as you walked away.

The fresh air greeted you as you stepped out into the garden. Each step took you away from the hustle and bustle of the party, but not from the feeling Rafe had left in you.

You walked slowly along the well-kept paths, surrounded by soft lights hanging from the trees, illuminating the path with a calm warmth. The sky was clear, and the stars twinkled softly, as if they were watching you too. You felt good, at peace, enjoying that moment of solitude, getting away from everything for a moment.

But you weren't alone for long.

You heard footsteps behind you, soft but firm. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was. There was something unmistakable about Rafe's presence. A confident, calm air, but charged with something more, something that always seemed to throb beneath the surface.

He stood beside you without saying a word. There was no need to explain why he was there, or to ask him why he had decided to accompany you. He just did it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

They walked together, in silence. Neither of them felt the urge to fill the space with words. The night was enough. The soft sounds of the wind through the leaves, the crunch of gravel under their feet, and the occasional whisper of the breeze were enough company.

Rafe had his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed, but his eyes observed everything around him with that characteristic attention, as if every detail was important. Every now and then, his eyes would drift to you, though he didn't say anything.

There was something surprisingly comfortable about that shared silence. You didn't feel compelled to speak, to explain anything, to pretend anything. Rafe seemed to understand that, and you understood it too.

They walked along a path that bordered the garden, passing by a small pond where the reflection of the golden lights from the party sparkled in the water. You stopped for a moment, watching as the soft waves distorted the lights, creating dancing patterns. Rafe stopped beside you, watching the same thing.

“It’s a beautiful night,” you finally commented, breaking the silence, but with a soft voice, as if you didn’t want to disturb the calm of that moment.

Rafe nodded, a smile almost imperceptible on his face.

“Yes, it is.”

The silence returned, but this time it was different. It was a silence filled with understanding, with something that didn’t need to be said out loud. Both of you continued walking, slowly advancing through the garden.

At some point, his steps aligned perfectly with yours, as if walking together was something you had always done. There was no rush. You were just there, enjoying the night, the calm.

The silence continued between you, but at that moment, you felt it was time to go back, to get back to reality. You looked at Rafe, who was still walking beside you, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

“I think I should head back to the party,” you said, keeping your voice light, but with a small smile, “They’re going to miss you. I’ll come back later.”

Rafe looked at you then, a glint of understanding in his eyes. He didn’t seem upset, rather, it seemed like he had been waiting for you to say it. He nodded slightly and, without losing his calm, glanced up at the starry sky.

“You’re right.” His tone was relaxed, but there was a spark in his eyes that made it clear that you didn’t care much about the party or the others.

You both stopped in front of the garden entrance, as if you somehow knew that the walk had come to an end. The party continued in the distance, laughter and conversations floating in the air.

“I’ll see you later then,” Rafe said with a slight smile.

He took a step back, giving you room to turn around and head back into the hustle and bustle of the party.

With a small wave of his hand, you began to walk back.

“See you later,” you said as you walked away, still staring at him for a moment, knowing that even though you were physically walking away, somehow, the words that weren’t said between you would still be floating in the air. 

Rafe stood there, watching you go, before turning around again and heading back to the party. 

After you both returned to the party, the atmosphere had changed slightly. The music was still playing, but something in the air seemed lighter. People were gathered around the center table, where Sofia was at the front, surrounded by her friends, family, and loved ones. They were all waiting for the moment when she would blow out the candles, the perfect ending to their celebration. 

The table was adorned with gold and silver details, like the theme of the party, and in the center, a large three-tiered cake dominated the stage. The candles glowed softly, with the light dancing over the smiling faces of everyone present. Sofia looked radiant, her dress shining under the lights of the room, and her eyes reflected a mix of excitement and gratitude.

Rafe approached you, a glass in his hand, and offered it to you with a discreet smile. It was clear that the tension between the two of you had not completely dissipated, but at that moment, everything seemed simpler, lighter. He raised his glass in your direction, waiting for you to toast with it.

“To Sofia,” he said in a soft tone, looking towards the table, where Sofia was already ready to blow out the candles.

You raised your glass as well, nodding with a smile. “To Sofia,” you repeated, feeling that the night, despite everything, had something special, something you couldn’t describe, but you knew deep down. You both toasted, clinking glasses with a small sound that resonated in the air.

Sofia, with her gaze full of hope, closed her eyes and blew out the candles. At that moment, everyone present kept a brief silence, waiting for her to make her wish. The bated breath in the room felt like a bubble about to burst, and then, as if everything had been calculated, Sofia opened her eyes and smiled.

“Thank you all for being here,” she said, her voice warm and full of emotion, looking at everyone present. “Thank you for this very special day.”

Applause filled the room, and the music took control of the night again, as people began to laugh and enjoy themselves again. Rafe, for his part, gave you one last look before diverting his attention to his group of friends.

The night continued, filled with laughter and toasts.

The next day, the sun shone brightly on the mansion and the atmosphere remained relaxed, almost as if the party the day before had been just a distant dream. The pool sparkled invitingly under the midday heat, the clear water reflecting the clear sky. You had already begun to enjoy the day, swimming and letting yourself be carried away by the calm of the place. The water surrounded you, cool and refreshing, as you swam back and forth, enjoying the peace of those solitary moments.

Rafe and Sofia were in the lounger area, almost ignoring you in their own world.

After a while, you decided to get out of the water. You laid down on one of the lounge chairs, feeling the sun on your skin. But soon, bored of just sitting there doing nothing, you got up and headed over to the pool table. You grabbed a cue and, in order to distract yourself, decided to play a little, not really interested in winning, just to pass the time.

It wasn't long before Rafe approached you, watching with a slight smile on his face.

"Do you dare to play a game?" he asked, also taking a cue and adjusting his shirt a little.

Sofia, from her spot by the pool, watched the two of you, somewhat distant, but not enough to not notice how you interacted. It could have been her curious look, or perhaps the way her body was slightly tense, but at that moment, something seemed different.

The game started with laughter and small jokes between you and Rafe. He, always a bit of a tease, would try to tease you with some comment or make you lose focus, but all in good spirits. You realized that, at that moment, there was no pressure. There was no tension, just the sound of the cue hitting the balls, the laughter and the words that intertwined naturally.

Meanwhile, Sofia stood there, watching in silence.

Rafe, more focused on the game than anything else, made a couple of jokes to you while he won it, but you weren't intimidated. You laughed, both at his attitude and at the little tricks he tried, although without being really competitive, which kept the atmosphere light.

At one point, your cue missed on a crucial shot and Rafe couldn't help but laugh.

"That's the best you've got?" he said, taking his turn to give it the final blow.

Finally, after a few rounds, the match ended and Rafe emerged victorious, albeit with a slight hint of irony, as he knew you had let him win a couple of times just to not make the moment too tense.

Sofia approached, as if she had been waiting for them to finish so she could resume the chat between the three of you.

The day progressed slowly, the sun shining brightly on the pool and the gardens of the mansion. The air was getting warmer and warmer, the atmosphere relaxed with soft music in the background. Sofia and you had laughed together, enjoying the little jokes.

As the sun began to set, dyeing the sky orange and pink hues, Sofia received a call. Her face changed slightly as she looked at her phone, and after a few seconds of conversation, she told you that she had to leave, that her family needed her.

“Do you want me to go with you?” you asked, without thinking too much about what you were saying. An impulse, a need to not let her go alone.

But Sofia looked at you with a smile, her voice soft but firm.

“It’s not necessary. Stay here, enjoy the day,” she replied with a calm that almost surprised you.

So, without being able to do much else, you watched her leave, watching her walk away down the path that led to the entrance of the mansion. You stood there, watching the sunset for a long moment. Something in the air, in the stillness of the place, made you feel uncomfortable, as if everything was about to change. The house suddenly seemed empty, and the sound of your own footsteps echoed in the silence that settled around it.

With the intention of not staying there thinking about what you didn’t want to think about, you decided to go out to the backyard, looking for a distraction. Maybe just a little fresh air would help you calm the anxiety that was beginning to grow inside you.

The patio was quiet, with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze and the soft murmur of the pool water, but the quiet only served to make you feel even more nervous. You walked a little further, approaching the trees and shadows of the garden, trying to escape a situation that made you feel uncomfortable.

It was then that you heard his footsteps. Rafe, who had not left you alone all day, appeared behind you, his elongated figure projecting over the grass. At first you didn't say anything, as if the silence between the two of you was some kind of invisible wall that you didn't even want to touch.

"Are you going to stay here alone?" Rafe asked, his voice soft, but with something in it that made you turn to look at him. He didn't seem to notice the tension in the air, or maybe he felt it too, but didn't know how to handle it.

And it was at that moment, when his eyes met yours, that everything became more intense. A simple exchange of glances turned into something deeper, something that both of you seemed to understand without the need for words. He was close, close enough for you to feel his presence. His gaze, once calm, now seemed charged with something else. You couldn't say exactly what it was, but it was there, like an invisible current that silently united you.

You both stood there, as if suspended in time, not knowing whether to move forward or back. You wanted to break that silence, but the truth was that you didn't know how. The fact that he was so close, his soft breathing, his gaze fixed on you, made everything much more complicated.

Rafe took a step towards you, without saying a word, as if he was looking for something in your expression, something that would make you give in. Your body reacted before your mind could process it, taking a step back, but not really moving away from him. It was as if gravity had brought them together in that instant, an invisible force pulling them both to the same place. The tension was palpable, like a thin thread that tightened with every millimeter of space they shared. 

You felt trapped in the moment, as if your thoughts were caught between the need to flee and the need to stay there. And although you didn't want to admit it, you were attracted to him, and that terrified you. Something about his closeness, his presence, made you feel vulnerable, but at the same time, something in you wanted him not to move away. 

Rafe, it seemed, felt it too. He stared at you a little longer, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, or as if he was undecided between saying something or simply remaining suspended in the air in that moment. Finally, it was he who broke the silence with a slight smile, a smile that, although it seemed relaxed, hid something deeper, something you knew you couldn't decipher. 

“I don't know what we're doing here.” he said quietly, as if he didn't want to break the spell that had fallen between the two of you.

You looked at each other, unable to formulate a response, and in that instant, the gap between the two of you closed. Without saying another word, you turned around and began to walk, breaking that moment of tension, knowing that what you felt was not something you could control or explain. But, at the same time, you couldn't deny that a part of you didn't want that moment to end.

The courtyard no longer seemed so welcoming, and you no longer knew whether to leave, stay, or face it. But something told you that tonight, things would not be the same as before.

The night was passing slowly, silence enveloping the atmosphere. Sofia had not yet returned, and although you had tried not to think about it, there was something in you that already predicted that things would change. You did not know exactly how or why, but you felt a pressure in the air.

Hours passed while you waited for her return, but when you finally received her message, you knew that everything had fallen apart. “I will not return tonight. I have things to resolve.” The words floated before your eyes, and something inside you tightened. You knew that the situation was becoming more complicated, and at the same time, you felt a strange mix of relief and nervousness. You were left alone, not knowing what to do, with that feeling that everything you had been avoiding was finally going to happen.

You looked at Rafe, who had been silent in some corner of the house. He seemed so oblivious to what was going through your mind, but there was also something in his presence that attracted you, something you could no longer ignore.

“Sofia won’t be back tonight,” you said, trying to sound calm, but your voice was shaking a little. “I think I’ll go.”

Rafe looked at you with a slightly crooked smile, as if he had been waiting for that answer. The sparkle in his eyes, the slight glint of amusement in his expression, made you hesitate for a moment.

“Don’t you want to go out for a while?”

His invitation was like a temptation, a soft voice that made you reconsider. It was hard to resist the idea of ​​escaping from everything, of leaving behind the tension that was building in the air, of feeling a small spark of freedom, even if it was only for a couple of hours.

You, knowing it wasn’t the right thing to do, hesitated for a moment. How wrong could it be? After all, you weren’t doing anything “serious,” you were just a couple of friends, right? The answer seemed more like an excuse than a justification, but still, something inside you pushed you to say:

“That doesn’t sound bad.”

Rafe smiled immediately, and the way his eyes sparkled made your heart beat a little faster, but you forced yourself to calm down. You didn't know if you were fooling yourself, but the night was young, and the world seemed more accessible at the moment.

The two of you walked outside, the city streets deserted and quiet under the starry sky. The moonlight illuminated everything softly, and for some reason, that silence was comforting. The escape you were looking for surrounded you, and with each step, the tension in the air faded, although you knew that, deep down, there was no escape from what was really happening between the two of you.

You didn't talk much as you walked, but the company was enough. The sound of your footsteps and their calm breathing were the only things you could hear, and yet, there was a silent burden, something you both tried to ignore, but it was there, palpable in the air. Something in their gazes, something in their closeness.

As time went on, aimlessly, they began to laugh, to chat about trivial things, as if trying not to think about the obvious would help them relax. You realized that, for a moment, everything seemed easier.

It was when the first lights of dawn began to touch the horizon, that something in the atmosphere became almost palpable, a touch, a spark. They both found themselves standing close, too close to each other, as if an invisible force attracted them in a way that neither could deny.

You could hear their breathing, ragged, almost synchronized, as if at that moment nothing else existed in the world but the two of them. They were so close that you could feel their warmth, their presence, and that small line between what was right and what was not blurred.

You felt unable to move, as if everything you had been thinking about, everything you had wanted to avoid, was about to break. The urge to reach out to him, to follow the desire that was growing between you two, was stronger than ever. But something inside you made you stop. A clear thought, a reminder of what really mattered to you.

“This is wrong, Rafe,” you said in a shaky but firm voice as you took a step back, looking out at the horizon. “We should stay friends. I don’t want to complicate things. It’s not what we need.”

Silence settled between the two of you, and he stared at you. His eyes, which had previously been bright with amusement, now held something else, something like a mix of understanding and perhaps a bit of disappointment.

“Are we friends?” he asked, almost with a sad smile, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer.

You stayed silent for a moment, searching for the answer in your own feelings. Finally, you decided to give the answer that, at that moment, seemed the most sensible.

“I guess so,” you said, a sigh escaping your lips.

Rafe nodded slowly, as if he finally understood something he had been searching for in you.

“That’s good to know,” he murmured, and for a moment, everything between you seemed to calm down.

But, you knew everything had changed. You couldn’t just go back to how things were before. Without another word, you turned around, feeling the weight of the goodbye, but unable to help it.

“I’m leaving alone,” you said, without looking back.

Rafe didn’t say anything, although hesitation could be seen in his eyes. He didn’t want to let you go, but deep down he knew he couldn’t keep insisting. For some reason, in the end, he didn't say anything, he just watched as you walked away. 

You returned to your house, the cold morning air caressing your skin, and although you felt like something had changed between you and him, you also knew that, somehow, you had made the right decision. Although, deep down, you wondered if it really was. 

After what happened that night with Rafe, something inside you changed. An invisible barrier rose, separating you from him and, consequently, from Sofia as well. The awkwardness that was once just a spark had now become a smoldering fire, burning inside you every time you thought about him, about how close you were, about how you almost crossed a line that shouldn't be crossed. 

You decided that the best thing to do was to walk away. Guilt weighed on you like a burden you couldn't let go of, and although you wanted to pretend that everything was okay, your conscience wouldn't let you rest. You made up excuses not to see them. When Sofia invited you out, to the beach, the pool, or any other gathering, you always had something else to do.

—Sorry, I have to study.

—I can't, I feel a little bad today.

—I have to help my mom with something.

The excuses piled up, one after another, until Sofia started to notice. At first, she believed you. She was your friend, she trusted you. But after several weeks of evasions, her messages started to sound different, more insistent, almost worried.

—Are you okay? We haven't seen you lately.

—Strange that you don't want to come... we miss you.

—Are you avoiding something?

You responded evasively, trying not to raise suspicions, but you knew that Sofia wasn't stupid. However, you preferred to deal with her concern rather than face what was really tormenting you: Rafe.

He, on the other hand, seemed unchanging. There was no change in his behavior, at least not visible. He didn't seem to feel the same discomfort or guilt that haunted you. He would send you messages from time to time, casual, as if nothing had happened between you.

—Are you going to the party tonight?

—Are you okay? I haven't seen you lately.

—Sofia asked about you, I told her you're probably busy.

Sometimes you read his messages and ignored them. You didn't want to fall into that dynamic of responding, of pretending everything was normal. But other times, the temptation was stronger, and you responded, although coldly, without giving rise to anything else.

—I'm fine.

—I don't think I'm going.

—Thanks for letting me know.

Each word of yours was measured, each message carefully worded to not lead to a deeper conversation. But Rafe didn't seem affected. He didn't chase you, he didn't insist, and that made you even angrier.

How could he be so calm after all? How could he act like nothing had happened while you were drowning in guilt? What hurt you most was that, deep down, you knew that was his nature. Rafe Cameron didn't feel remorse. He never had. He was always like that: cold, calculating, and seemingly incapable of feeling guilt.

And that made you even angrier. Because how could you be angry at him for being exactly the way he always was? There was a reason he always looked down on you, there was a reason he always looked at you with that mix of arrogance and disdain. Because to him, nothing really mattered. He wasn't afraid to cross boundaries, because to Rafe, boundaries were just an abstract concept that he could ignore when it suited him. 

You felt caught in a contradiction. You hated him for not feeling anything, but at the same time, a part of you envied that indifference. Because while you carried the weight of what could have happened, he kept going, as if you were just another person in his life. 

There were days when you wanted to confront him, ask him directly why he didn't feel the same as you, why he didn't seem affected. But the fear of facing his indifference stopped you. Because you knew that if you did, his answer would be cold, sharp, and maybe make you feel worse. 

And so, the weeks kept passing. You avoided any place where you might run into him. If you knew Sofia and Rafe were going to be at a party, you just didn’t go. If you heard his name in conversation, you walked away before they could talk about him anymore. Even on social media, you avoided looking at anything that might remind you of that night, that closeness, that moment you almost crossed paths.

But despite all your efforts, Rafe was still there, in the back of your mind. He was like a shadow you couldn’t erase, a presence that followed you, even when he wasn’t around.

One afternoon, as you were checking your phone, a new message from him popped up on your screen. You stared at it for a moment, hesitating to open it. Just seeing it made your heart beat faster, a mix of anxiety and something you didn’t want to admit.

—You’re really quiet lately. Everything okay?

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to decide whether to respond or not. You knew a part of you wanted to, wanted to keep that connection, even if it was minimal. But you also knew that every message, every interaction, only made things more complicated.

Finally, you left the message unanswered, turned off your phone, and sighed. The conflict was still there, inside you, a battle between desire and reason, between what you felt for Rafe and what you knew was right. And all the while, he was still Rafe: untouchable, indifferent, and always one step ahead.

You had built up a routine of avoidance: excuses for not going out, cold and calculated messages, avoiding meetings where you knew he would be. You had decided that the best thing for you was to keep your distance and protect both your heart and your friendship with Sofia. You didn't want to be "the other." You didn't want to be the reason everything fell apart.

But Rafe seemed to have other plans.

He kept looking for you. His messages became more frequent, his gazes more intense every time you met by chance. And when you avoided him, he found a way to close the distance, to make you feel his presence, as if he knew exactly which buttons to push to make you doubt your decisions.

One afternoon, while you were at a local café, enjoying a moment alone, you saw his figure approaching. Tall, self-assured, with that look that always seemed to carry a dangerous mix of arrogance and attraction. There was no escape this time.

“Can I sit down?” Rafe asked, even though he was already dragging the chair in front of you.

You sighed, trying to keep your composure.

“Sure, but I don’t stay long,” you replied nonchalantly.

He smiled, as if he perfectly understood the game you were playing. He knew you were trying to keep him at bay, and it seemed to amuse him more than it put him off.

“Are you hiding from me?” he asked, leaning his elbows on the table and staring at you.

“No. Why would I?” you replied, avoiding his eyes as you stirred your coffee.

His gaze burned into you. It was as if he could see right through you, piercing through every one of your carefully raised defenses. You knew you shouldn’t fall for his game, but with every passing second you felt your self-control slowly crumble.

“I don’t know… I barely see you lately. Sofia notices it too.” His tone was casual, but there was something else there, a hidden insinuation.

“I’ve been busy,” you said, shrugging.

The silence stretched on, and when you finally looked up, you found him watching you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. There was something in his eyes, a mix of desire, frustration, and… defiance. Like he was waiting for you to be the one to break that barrier.

“You should focus on Sofia,” you murmured, diverting the conversation back to where you wanted to take it. “She’s the one who matters.”

Rafe leaned a little closer to you, closing the distance.

“What if it’s not just Sofia?” he whispered.

Your hands tightened around the cup. That line, that edge you’d both been skirting since that night, was dangerously close again. And the worst part of it all was that, even though you knew you should walk away, part of you wanted to know what would happen if you didn’t.

“We can’t, Rafe. I don’t want to be “the other.” I’m not going to ruin what I have with Sofia for… this. “Your voice was firm, but there was a barely perceptible tremor in your words.

He was silent for a moment, studying every expression on your face. He didn’t seem upset or disappointed. On the contrary, he seemed intrigued, as if your words were a challenge rather than a refusal.

“For this?” he repeated with a half smile.

“For whatever this is,” you clarified, trying to sound confident.

Rafe sighed, but didn’t move away. On the contrary, he rested a hand on the table, almost brushing yours, so close that you could feel the warmth of his skin.

“What if it’s not what you think?” he asked quietly. “What if we can handle it without ruining anything?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the emotions that threatened to overflow. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he could control himself, that you could keep everything in order, but you knew that things were never that simple.

“I can’t risk it,” you said at last, pulling your hand away and breaking contact. “I don’t want to lose her. Or myself.”

Rafe nodded slowly, but his eyes were still fixed on you. There was something in his gaze that wouldn’t go away: desire mixed with stubbornness. Like this was just a chapter in a story he was determined to continue.

“Okay,” he murmured, getting up from his chair. “But you can’t walk away forever.”

You stayed silent as he left, leaving an air heavy with tension and a racing heartbeat in your chest. You knew he was right. You couldn’t walk away forever. But for now, you promised yourself that you would keep trying, because if you got close again, you knew that this time you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself.

That same day, you returned home with your heart tangled in a tangle of emotions. The tension you had been avoiding was no longer something you could ignore. You felt the need to talk to someone, to find clarity in the midst of the chaos that had broken out in your mind. However, you chose to lock yourself in your room, hoping that the silence of the night would give you the answers you were looking for.

But your mother didn't let you isolate yourself for long.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly from the door, peeking in with a curious, motherly look. She had noticed your behavior in the last few days. The constant excuses, the long sighs, the nights when you seemed to be in another world.

“Yeah, Mom, I’m just tired,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as you settled into bed.

She wasn’t fooled. She walked into your room, closed the door behind her, and sat on the edge of the bed. Her eyes, full of wisdom and tenderness, looked at you with that mix of understanding and concern that only a mother could have.

“Honey, I know you too well. Something’s going on. Do you want to talk about it?”

You sighed. You knew she wasn’t going to give up, and somehow that comforted you. You took a moment before answering.

“It’s complicated, Mom. I don’t know how to explain it without it sounding… bad.” You looked down, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt.

She waited patiently, giving you the time you needed. When you finally raised your head, you found in her gaze an invitation to vent.

“There’s someone…” you began, choosing your words carefully. “Someone I shouldn’t be with. He’s a friend’s boyfriend, and… I don’t know how it happened, but everything is a mess now. I try to get away, but it seems like the more I try, the harder it gets. It’s like he doesn’t want to let me go.”

Your mother nodded slowly, processing each word. She didn’t interrupt you, she just let you talk.

“I know it’s wrong, and I feel guilty, but at the same time… there’s something about him that I can’t ignore. It’s like there’s something between us that shouldn’t be there, but I can’t help it either.”

Your mother looked at you with an expression that was a mix of empathy and nostalgia. “I understand more than you think,” she said with a soft smile. “I went through something similar when I was young.”

You were shocked. “You? Really?” you asked, incredulous. You had never imagined your mother in a similar situation.

She nodded, settling herself better on the bed. There was a sparkle in her eyes, as if she was remembering a fragment of her own youth.

“Yes, before I met your father, there was someone… someone who made me feel alive, who shook my world in ways I had never experienced. He was charming, ambitious, and yes, he had a lot of money.” She laughed softly. “But he wasn’t the person I was supposed to be with. It was all intense, but not always intense is the best for you.”

You looked at her curiously, as if you were seeing a side of her you had never known.

“And what happened?” you asked, intrigued.

She sighed, as if the memory took her back to those days. “In the end, I realized I couldn’t live in that whirlwind. There was a lot of fire, but not enough to build something lasting. And then your father came along. He was different. Calmer, more stable… but real. And I realized that was what I needed.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “So you had a rich boyfriend too, that you left for love?.” you joked, trying to lighten the conversation.

Your mother laughed, the warm sound filling the room. “It seems like it’s a tradition, doesn’t it?” she replied humorously. “But money isn’t everything, honey. Love is a crazy thing. Sometimes it takes you down paths you don’t expect, and other times it makes you see that what you really need is right in front of you, even if it’s not what you had imagined.”

You stayed silent, reflecting on her words. It was strange to think of your mother going through something similar, but it also made you feel less alone. Maybe you weren’t the only one who had felt that confusion, that forbidden attraction that seemed to have no way out.

“So what do I do?” you finally asked, seeking advice.

She looked at you tenderly and stroked your hair. “Do what you feel is right for you. Don’t punish yourself for feeling, but don’t lose yourself in something that could hurt you either. Sometimes walking away is the hardest thing, but also the most necessary thing.

You nodded slowly, feeling the weight on your chest lighten for a moment at least. Maybe, given time, you could find your own path, one that didn’t leave you trapped between what you wanted and what was right.

[solxamber]

Helloo, I absolutely love you writing! Your understanding of the twst characters’ personalities is phenomenal 😭❤️

May I request both Ace and Malleus crushing on reader simultaneously, and both are aware that the other likes reader (reader is oblivious hehe). Ace gets super insecure since he isn’t powerful nor of royal status and believes there’s no way he can compete against him, meanwhile Malleus gets super jealous since Ace has been friends with reader ever since and is the most close with him.

Ace x Reader x Malleus (Love Triangle)

a/n: the giggle i let out when i saw this!! such a fun concept and thank you so much 🫶🫶

It started with a normal day: you laughing at one of Ace's jokes, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind you. The storm in question was Ace and Malleus glaring daggers at each other over your oblivious head.

Ace was slouched in his chair, shooting side-eyes at the imposing figure standing too close to your desk. Why does he have to hover like that? he thought bitterly. Malleus, for his part, was casting pointed glances at Ace’s casual posture, as if silently saying, Is this the best you can do?

Neither could deny the truth. They were both hopelessly, tragically in love with you. And they both knew it.

Ace prided himself on being the guy you could count on for a laugh. But today, he was on a mission: show you how amazing he was.

“So, anyway,” he said loudly during your study session in the library, “I totally aced—get it?—my magic exam. Got full marks.” He leaned back smugly, hoping you’d be impressed.

Malleus, who had been quietly sitting nearby (because of course he was), looked up. “Impressive, Ace Trappola. But I suppose it pales in comparison to wielding centuries-old magic and commanding legions of loyal subjects.”

Ace choked on his own smugness. “Yeah, well, I bet you don’t even know how to mix a potion without turning it into swamp goo, huh?”

“Actually, I mastered potion-making at a young age. I created an elixir capable of reviving withered flora.”

“Cool, cool. Can you tell me how any of that helps the prefect with our history homework?” Ace shot back, leaning closer to you.

Malleus frowned. “History is one of my strongest subjects.”

“Oh my Seven—” Ace groaned and threw his hands up. “We get it. You’re ancient!”

You looked between them, confused. “Are you two okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Malleus said smoothly.

“Great! I was just explaining history to Deuce,” Ace lied shamelessly.

Lunch was another battlefield. Ace had secured a seat next to you and was recounting a funny story involving Grim, a mop, and a very angry caterpillar monster.

“…and then Grim screamed so loud, I think half the campus heard him! Right, Prefect?” Ace said, nudging you.

Before you could respond, the shadow of a tall figure fell over the table.

“Malleus,” Ace said with a forced grin. “Didn’t see you there. Like, at all.”

“I thought I would join you,” Malleus said, sitting directly across from you, his gaze unwavering. “Do you require assistance with your meal? Perhaps I could conjure something more fitting for your taste.”

“Okay, that’s just cheating,” Ace muttered under his breath.

“Conjuring food is a skill that requires great control,” Malleus said casually. “It’s a shame some rely solely on mediocre cafeteria fare.”

“Oh, so now the chicken nuggets aren’t good enough for you?” Ace snapped.

“They lack refinement,” Malleus said.

“Yeah? Well, you lack… I dunno, vibes!” Ace countered.

You blinked. “Ace, are you okay? You’re yelling about chicken nuggets.”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” Ace mumbled, shoving a nugget in his mouth to shut himself up.

The tension boiled over during a school festival. There was a dance competition, and both Ace and Malleus signed up for one reason: to win your attention.

Ace went first, pulling off a routine filled with flashy moves that he definitely stole from a popular video. The crowd cheered, and you clapped the loudest.

“Not bad, right?” Ace said, slightly out of breath but grinning. “Bet I’m the first guy you’ve seen dance like that.”

Before you could respond, Malleus stepped onto the stage.

“I shall now perform a traditional dance of my homeland,” he announced.

It was graceful, mesmerizing, and undeniably magical—literally. The lights dimmed, and green flames swirled around him as he moved with perfect precision. The crowd was silent, utterly captivated.

Ace stood next to you, slack-jawed. “I… I can’t compete with that.”

You turned to him with a smile. “I thought your dance was amazing too.”

Ace lit up like a firework. “Y-Yeah? You mean that?”

Malleus, mid-spin, glanced at you both. His expression darkened.

Eventually, the competition escalated to new heights of absurdity. Ace baked you cookies, only to find out Malleus had hand-carved you a jewelry box. Malleus enchanted roses to bloom eternally, and Ace countered by organizing a surprise karaoke night with all your favorite songs.

But when you tripped and both of them scrambled to catch you, the ridiculousness reached its peak.

“You caught their hand,” Malleus said, an edge to his voice.

“And you caught their other hand!” Ace snapped.

You, still mid-air, sighed. “Can someone just catch me completely next time?”

Despite their antics, one thing was clear: they both adored you. And while their rivalry was exasperating, it was also… kind of sweet.

Well, for you, anyway. For them? Not so much.

Masterlist

[landopoet]

crave.

pairing teammate!lando x sainz!reader

warnings smut, mentions of alcohol

playlist obsessive - chase atlantic / is there someone else? - the weeknd / 2 hands - tate mcrae / sex money feelings die - lykke li / favourite - isabel larosa

synopsis what happens when the person you hate stays over for the weekend?

part one of a two part series

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Y/N, come down. Lando’s here.”

Your home in Monaco has always been your comfort place. It’s always quiet, always peaceful, it helps you detach from the harsh reality of having a bitchy teammate who, despite being your brother's best friend, hates you.

So, when you hear Carlos call for you from the hallway, you’re rolling your eyes at the feeling of peace being torn from you by the mere mention of your rival’s name.

You jog down the stairs and watch as Lando glances at you from the kitchen, the tiniest look of irritation on his face. Carlos is making him a cup of tea and you sit down on the island beside the sink.

“You didn’t tell me Lando would be coming over.” You watch as your brother’s eyes lock onto yours.

“I didn’t.” He shrugs. “But it’s my home, so who I invite shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Our home.”You roll your eyes. “It’s not, unless you’re inviting Lando.”

Lando clears his throat from right behind you, finding a seat at the other side of the island. “I’m right here, by the way.”

“I wish you weren’t.” You mumble, hopping off the island and getting ready to go back to your room. Carlos calls your name before you can make it up the first step of the staircase. “What?” You ask, annoyed.

“The season starts next week, I assume you’ve been informed about the celebratory party tomorrow evening?”

“I have.” You lean against the railing of the stairs. “Why?”

“Lando’s joining us.” Carlos states, placing the warm cup of tea in front of Lando. Your eyes examine the look on his face and you can’t help to notice that your brother is completely serious. Lando seems to have that same conclusion when his mouth parts to retaliate.

“No, I’m not.”

A sigh slips past Carlos’ lips, his head tilting back and eyes closed, irritation painting every single one of his sharp features. “Yes, you are.”

“That’s unfair. I’m not going.” You declare, arms crossed over your chest. Lando’s eyes glanced at you for a moment, gaze lingering on the way your tits looked cute pushed up like that. He shakes his head, as if to rid it of that thought. Nice attempt, considering it didn’t work.

“Me neither.” Lando says, agreeing with you for once.

Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly irritated. “Both of you are so childish. It’s a work party, not something random you can skip.”

“But-“ You sigh, not getting into more arguments. The parties are usually hosted at clubs big enough to get lost in, so even if you did go, there’s a low chance you’d interact with Lando throughout the night. That thought alone calms you down, distracting you from the fact that the man in question will be staying at your home for a few days. “Fine.”

Carlos smiles at you with a pleasant look on his face and you roll your eyes at both of the men before jogging back up the stairs. You can hear their voices fading into the background as you shut your bedroom door behind yourself, going back to whatever you were doing earlier.

There’s at least another three hours of uninterrupted peace, before you hear footsteps making their way up the stairs. It wouldn’t make sense for Carlos to be up here, since his bedroom is on the first floor, which means that the loud footsteps you’re hearing belong to none other than Lando himself. You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. He can’t seem to do anything peacefully, in race or not.

You peel your eyes away from the book in your lap and focus your attention on Lando’s noises in the hallway. He steps closer and closer to your bedroom door, and you can tell he’s about to barge in, but he notices the light coming from under the door and steps away.

Lando runs a hand down his face as he tries his best to navigate his way through your house. He opens the door that’s right beside your room and finds out that it’s the bathroom. The next door he opens is a walk-in closet and he groans in frustration. “The fuck do they need so many rooms for.” He mumbles under his breath.

His home back in England isn’t anything short of fancy, but it’s surely not a maze. He opens the next door and, to his surprise, it’s yet another bathroom.

“It’s the door in front of my room.” Your head poked out through your bedroom door and Lando turned around to face you, his eyes turning darker with a coldness to them.

Lando walks to the door you were aiming your finger at. His fingers grip the handle and when the door swings open, he sees that it is, in fact, his room. He notices the small smirk on your lips. “I knew that.”

You can’t help but laugh at him trying to play it off cool. “Of course you did.”

⟡

The kitchen tiles are cold beneath your bare feet.

You’re rummaging your fridge for something to eat. Having Lando in the house means you’re locked away in your own room, avoiding him at all costs. Which also meant that you denied dinner, saying you weren’t hungry even when your brother persisted.

There was no way in hell you’d eat dinner at the same table as Lando Norris. Not in your own home, at least.

You grabbed an armful of ingredients and set them down on the cupboard beside the stove. Bowls and utensils messily scatter the kitchen island and you’re close to finished with your dinner when a creak of the stairs pulls you out of your peacefulness. Once again, Lando’s the culprit.

“What’re you doing?” He cocks his head to the side at the sight of messy dishes and the sound of jazz quietly playing through the kitchen.

You roll your eyes as you plate your food. “Making dinner.”

“At eleven p.m.?” He slips his phone back in his pocket after checking the time.

“Are you judging me, Norris?”

Lando shrugs. “No, just curious. Carlos made food a few hours ago, but you were too stuck up to join us. And I bet it’s because of me.”

You hate how right he is and you curse yourself for your surprised face, giving away that he was right. His lips curl up at the sides and form into a small smirk. “And? I think it’s obvious I don’t like having you here.”

“I’d say I don’t like being here, but Carlos has been nice to me, so I’m actually enjoying my stay.” Lando’s eyes follow you as you take a seat at the dining table, him choosing to sit opposite of you. After a moment of silence— which you wished would last for as long as Lando’s staying with you— he spoke. “Y’know, I never understood you.”

You can tell he’s taunting you, yet still you choose to look up from your plate with a raised brow. The shape of his toned biceps bulging as his arms cross over his chest and he sits back in the chair distracts you from the small smirk on his face.

“You’ve always had something against me. Ever since karting days.” He muses, eyes interrogating and narrowed on your confused face. “Carlos never told me anything about it, so I assumed it must’ve been a family secret. Maybe the Sainz just hated my family name.”

You snort at the conclusion. “My dad barely knows who you are, don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m not.” He’s quick to defend himself, his voice monochrome and calm. “I think the only reason you hate me is because you feel inferior to me. Which, if I must say, is completely understandable, given that I am better than you in any way, shape or form.”

You stare at him with disbelief. Was he being serious or was this his way of trying to befriend you? He’s making a complete fool of himself with that little rant of his, and you weren’t even sure what it was about. Half of that was complete nonsense, considering you are the one winning races left, right and centre. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneers, leaning closer to you across the table. You feel his gaze on your face, studying and focused, as if he was trying to get under your skin. But to no avail.

You finish up your food and pick your plate up, getting ready to walk away. “You’re delusional, Norris. Last time I checked, you hated me first and for no reason, so there’s no need for you to try and study my behaviour. Maybe you should reflect on yours.”

And with that, you walk back to the kitchen, leaving Lando sitting alone in the dining room, a small smirk plastered on his face.

⟡

The blasting music of the club, paired with the luminescent lights and LEDs lining the ceiling made you that much more excited to get drunk.

The atmosphere of the building was unlike any other place you had attended F1 parties at. It was less formal, therefore more crowded and cosy. The bar caught your eye immediately upon arrival, and you made a beeline to it.

You had every intention to swallow more alcohol than you know can handle, to feel the aching bitterness in the back of your throat from the shots you know you’ll do, to feel your brain get dizzy with your drunkenness.

Ordering a round of shots for you and some other drivers, you made your way to the table your brother chose to occupy. You gently placed the tray with twelve shot glasses on the table, before placing yourself between Max and Daniel.

Each man picks up a shot glass, raising it up in the air with a small salute, before downing it all without a chaser. You put your glass back and noticed one of them untouched.

“Lando, mate.” Charles calls for him, seemingly able to pull the Brit out of his focus on his phone. “You didn’t do a shot.”

Lando shook his brown head of curls. “Don’t wanna.”

Your brother simply shrugged when you made brief eye contact, raising your eyebrows in surprise. Then, you grabbed Lando's shot glass and downed it, bringing it to your lips in a "cheers."

Daniel grinned widely as you placed the glass back, his arm around the back of the sofa as he told you how Lando stopped drinking alcohol a few months ago, after some epiphany about drinking.

You knew that was wrong, because Lando downed each bottle of champagne he had after winning second place to you, especially the race he nearly won in Abu Dhabi right before the break. It felt silly whenever he’d be on the podium with you, because that’s the only time you could really feel his deep hatred for you.

With spurts of champagne escaping his bottle, Lando would spray anyone but you.

It’s not that big of a deal, honestly. You prefer it that way, as your suit doesn’t soak in as much of the smell as it would if Lando contributed to drowning you as a celebration.

Your eyes scan the room, watching all the other drivers having a fun time on the dance floor. Daniel sprung to his feet upon hearing his name fall from your lips, watching as you extended a hand and he took it almost instantly. You turn around and down your third shot before dragging Daniel into the crowd of strangers and drivers, limbs in the air as they dance to the music.

The lack of space on the dance floor forced you to dance a little closer to Daniel. You were intoxicated but not enough to ignore the way his fingers snaked around your waist. Daniel's hands wrapping around you melted your insides to mush, blood pouring to your cheeks and staining them crimson.

The view of you two made Lando’s blood boil.

He hated it. Hated every bit of watching you dance against his ex-teammate, as if it’s some sort of tactic to make Lando pissed. He notices the glimmer in your eye when you look at Daniel and briefly look back at Lando, some feeling of jealousy planting itself in the pit of his stomach. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working.

Lando’s eyebrows sit low on his forehead, crease in the middle of them as he tries his best not to look at you two. He can’t help it, though. You’re in his peripheral vision and his eyes seem to follow you everywhere, seeming to have a mind of their own.

“Oh, fuck no.” Carlos’s Spanish accent rings in Lando’s ears as he watches his best friend stand up and make his way to the dance floor. A small smirk paints itself across Lando’s features, seeing Carlos practically pull Daniel away from you.

Daniel comes back to the table with his tail between his legs, shoulders slumped and head hung low in faux guilt. He downs his second shot before sitting down beside Max.

“Didn’t work?” Max asks, accepting Daniel’s offering of going outside for some air. “I told you he wouldn’t let you.”

Lando hears their conversation as they walk away. Daniel says he’s still got the whole night to convince Carlos that he’s good enough for you, and that thought alone pierces Lando’s chest, for whatever reason.

You notice the absence of Daniel and Max at the table, finally left alone by your older brother. Carlos is protective of you and it’s sweet, but it gets too much. There was no chance you were sleeping with Daniel, but having a little fun doesn’t hurt, right?

Carlos is convinced it does hurt, he’s convinced every guy you’ve ever spoken to wants to hurt you by being so sweet. Maybe that’s why he’s not so adamant you stay away from Lando. He knows Lando seems like he’d do anything to hurt you, but through the eight years of their friendship, Lando hasn’t laid a single hand on you.

Not since karting days, anyway.

You and Lando were wild as children. Evil grins decorating your lips as you got ready to tease each other by pushing one another into the barricades of the track. Karting was fun and took little effort, now that you look back on it, but you were small and it took a toll on you every time Lando would get in your way.

It got so annoying that, one time, you got out of your kart and jumped onto his, strangling him in the process as you tried to sabotage whatever he would have achieved that day.

You learnt not to do that if you wanted to keep your seat in the team. That’s when Lando began having his fun, knowing you couldn’t do anything physically to him anymore. He started poking fun at you, making sure to really get under your skin to the point where your fists were held so tightly your knuckles turned white, but you wouldn’t lunge at him like you used to.

Everyone thought it was something you’ll grow out of, but Lando kept having his fun even after both of you got into Formula One.

You thought he’d mature, but as he once told your brother, he’s happy where he is and seems to have no intention of changing his behaviour with you.

Recently, he’s been reconsidering it.

He thinks about you more than he’d like to admit. Hell, he could never admit it out loud, even if he wanted to. Lando feels as though he’s ruined any chance of you seeing him as anything other than a rival. He doubts you’d want to know him beyond what’s said on his Wikipedia page, anyway.

Not that he’s read yours, or anything. He doesn’t need to. Lando’s known you for enough time to remember the small details. And your brother rambling about you surely added onto the mental notes Lando kept of you.

All it took was to observe you to fall in love.

Lando shakes that thought out of his head, watching as his two friends come back from getting fresh air. Carlos has been talking to Charles, and to Lando, about something to do with the new car for Ferrari, but Lando was far too busy watching the way the skirt of your dress caressed your thighs as your fingers slowly lifted it up in sync to the lyrics of whatever song was playing.

There was no reason for Lando to get up as fast as he did. The other guys at the table looked unamused as Lando made his way to the DJs table, asking if he could play around for a bit. The DJ, clearly shocked that Lando Norris was speaking to him, immediately agreed and let him take over.

First thing Lando did? Change the fucking song.

He couldn’t bear seeing you reveal the tender skin of your thighs to every stranger in this god damned room. He felt as if he deserved to be the only one to see it, even though he wasn’t. Let a boy dream.

Your eyes scanned the room to find the DJs table, confused as to why the song was changed, and when you found it, they rolled to the back of your head. Of course Lando would be behind your ruined fun. When your eyes meet his, you get even more irritated by the dumb smirk on his face. You have half a mind to go wipe it off his face, either with your fist or with your lips. Both would work.

Lando’s eyes follow your figure as he messes around with the songs, his only focus being you and the glimpse of the back of your legs as you sit at the bar. He watches as you order a drink, the bartender winking at you as he places the glass in front of you. Lando rolls his eyes, going back to entertaining the people on the dance floor.

You feel a chill run down your spine, feeling uncomfortable with the conversation going on between you and the bartender. Carlos, as if he had a feeling, comes up from behind you and pulls you away by your arm. This was one of the rare moments you were thankful for his interruption.

He brings you back to the table and you sit between Max and Daniel again, watching as they down another round of shots they ordered. You quickly finished your margarita, joining the men and taking a shot glass into your hands.

“Slow down,” Carlos warns, a hint of worry tainting his stern voice. You look right at him as you press the glass to your lips before throwing your head back and downing it. Carlos rolls his eyes before doing the same.

It's another hour of you sitting by the table and talking to them about whatever topics you decided to dissect. It started off with Daniel asking about your last season, Max continuing and somehow talking about his cats, Charles started rambling about his interest in piano and you rambled about Carlos’ inability to cook pasta without leaving it rock solid (to which Charles could relate.)

“You wanna get some fresh air?” Daniel nudges you with his elbow, your eyes following Max and him as they get up. You rise to your feet and Carlos is too drunk to mind you leaving with his two friends, so you quickly swivel between the drunk strangers and outside through the backdoor. You’re sure that’s not allowed, but Max opened it for you and you couldn’t resist.

Daniel leans back against the brick wall of the neighbouring building while Max stands by the door, his foot keeping it open so you’re not locked out. You squat down and copy Danny, leaning back against the wall with your head raised high.

Max is the first to break the silence. “Why’s Carlos so protective of you?”

“Dunno.” You shrug, the too-many shots finally getting to your head. “He’s just… I don’t know. I guess it’s what a big brother does.”

“Right.” Daniel nods, yet his head still cocks to the side. “Why doesn’t he do that with Lando?”

You snort at the question. “Does Lando dance with me or wrap his arms around my waist in a crowd of strangers?”

“Well, no. But he looks at you like he’s in love, or something.” Max points out. You can’t tell if it’s his drunken state that’s causing him to speak such nonsense, so once again, you can’t help but giggle at that.

“Right.”

A new silence settles in and you’re enjoying the fresh air, feeling how the coldness of winter is slowly creeping away and the warmth of spring replaces it.

The door is pushed open and Max nearly falls on you when Lando bursts outside. He looks at Daniel, then Max, and when his frantic eyes finally land on you, his gaze softens. “Get up.”

Your mouth opens to reply with denial, but the look on Lando’s face as he holds the door open for you makes you immediately rise to your feet. When you approach him, he softly grabs your arm and pulls you inside, while Daniel and Max give each other a knowing look.

“Where are we going?” You yell for Lando to hear over the loud music. He leads you both to the table where he hands you your purse and continues to pull you with him. “Lando!”

“Home.” Is all he says, and he’s dragging you outside through the front entrance, making his way to his car. You don’t protest, intrigued with the igniting feeling of his touch on your skin. It sends sparks through your body, making you more dizzy than the alcohol did.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and helps you in. You’re about to reach for the seatbelt when you feel Lando reach over and buckle you up, his chest at eye-level and you can’t help but catch a peek of his bare chest through his unbuttoned shirt. Lando notices your eyes soak in the view of him, your eyebrows raising just a tad before you look away.

When Lando gets into the driver's seat, he turns to you as if he wanted to say anything, but when he notices you looking out the window, seemingly upset, he drops it and starts the car.

The car ride is quiet for the first five minutes, before he breaks the silence. “You shouldn’t have drank so much.”

Your already annoyed self turns to face him. “You dragged me home early and now you’re parenting me?”

Lando sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not parenting you. I’m just… looking out for you.” The look on his face wants to seem like he’s kidding or teasing, but shades of his genuine feelings shine through.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” You ask, trying your best to hold back a laugh. “You’re so set on ruining any fun I have, yet you’re looking out for me.”

Lando feels his chest tighten, so he makes up an excuse. “Your brother asked me to.”

“Of course he did.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie. Carlos did ask Lando to drive you home before you even got to the club, that’s why Lando wasn’t drinking. He bullshitted some excuse to Daniel about how he realised drinking is not his thing, knowing damn well he wanted to get wasted the second he saw you carrying back those shots with a little sway in your hips. But he figured getting drunk by looking at your body was better than alcohol, anyway.

Carlos didn’t ask Lando to look out for you. His request was to drive you home, so Lando’s not sure why he’s helping you out of the car or opening the front door for you, or why he’s following you into your room.

“You can tell Carlos I’m capable of getting into bed myself, he didn’t need to ask you to tuck me in.” You roll your eyes, pulling off your jacket and dropping it on the armchair. Lando stands in the doorway watching you get into bed.

“He cares about you.” Lando points out, slowly making his way into your room and leaning back against your desk, standing right in front of your bed. “Maybe start to appreciate that.”

“Oh, please.” You plop back against your pillows. “Did Carlos also ask you to lecture me?”

“No,” Lando shrugs, your eyes following his rising shoulders and gazing lower to the unbuttoned shirt. “I’m just saying.”

“You could try shutting up once in a while.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. If he keeps talking, you’re sure you’ll either punch him or yourself. Being in the same room with the person you hate yet crave is so unbearable. Especially when the person in question is Lando.

“Don’t wanna.”

Lando’s gaze burned into you as he stood there, his eyes challenging and lips pulled into a teasing smirk. Your eyes held contact with his, the pit in your stomach growing with each second. The air felt like it suddenly disappeared from your room and you could tell Lando felt it, too.

“You should.” You finally say. “You’d look smarter.”

Lando’s mouth opens with a quiet chuckle, his Adam’s apple rising and falling, and hypnotising you. The pit in your stomach grows as your eyes continue exploring his facial features. His jaw is so sharp, yet so delicate, and the way it pairs with his fierce eyes makes you weak in the knees.

Your eyes are focused on his lips when they part. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you come over here and shut me up yourself?”

Lando finds it amusing how your pretty little lips part in surprise after the words leave his mouth. It’s interesting to him how much you want him, despite making it so clear that he’s the last person you wanna be talking to.

Lando’s enjoying this, meanwhile you have no idea how to feel.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, apart from your rapidly beating heart. The sudden change in Lando’s eyes after he says those words makes you that much more nervous. You’re not even sure why you’re nervous. Maybe it’s the piercing gaze of his that burns into your skin, or maybe it’s the fact that your legs seem to have a mind of their own, as you stand up.

His eyes follow your figure as you approach him, mainly focused on that sway in your hips that he’s been addicted to since the start of the night. He thinks it should be criminal to look that good in your little black dress, only so he could be the one to punish you for it.

When you’ve stopped two steps in front of Lando, his calloused hands find your waist and he pulls you against him. You feel the warmth seeping in through his button-up and it clashes so perfectly with the chills he’s sent down your spine.

Lando watches as you lean in, closer and closer, your faces mere inches apart. And when he expects you to kiss him, you look him dead in the eyes and say, “get out of my room.”

The shocked look on his face sends satisfaction through your body and the way it slowly falls into disappointment makes you wonder what he expected of you.

His hands slowly slip away from your waist and he pulls himself away from you, not sparing a glance your way as he closes the door behind himself.

⟡

The next morning is everything you expected it to be— awkward, silent, uncomfortable.

Your place in the kitchen and Lando’s place in the living room seem to be so separate, yet it feels like all your thoughts are floating around in a bubble above your heads. You keep stealing glances of Lando, hiding your gaze from him, and he keeps watching you shamelessly.

He doesn’t care anymore about your rivalry. It bothers him that he had you right there, practically in his hands, yet he managed to somehow lose that. And he’ll do whatever it takes to make you his.

“When is Carlos coming back?” He yells from the couch in front of the TV. Your eyes rise from your cereal bowl and lock onto his.

Both your shoulders rise with a shrug. “Dunno. I think he went to Charles’ for the weekend.”

Lando turns back to the TV, a new thought brewing in his mind and his hypothetical bubble pops with the idea. He has a whole weekend with you and that’s enough time, he reckons.

Lando turns his head back to you when you speak. “When are you leaving?”

It comes out an awful lot more rude than you intended it to be, but it’s just the way you’re used to talking to Lando.

He repeats your action and shrugs. “Sunday, maybe.”

“Cool.”

His green eyes watch as you get up off of the dining chair and make your way to the kitchen sink, that addicting sway of your hips turning his mind into mush. His legs work faster than his mind and next thing he knows, he’s in the kitchen with you.

You see from the corner of your eye him opening the fridge and taking a can of diet coke out, and when he walks past you, he makes sure to gently touch your waist as if he was softly guiding you out of his way. “Sorry.”

Lando wished he could’ve seen the look on your face when his hips softly brushed past your behind, his fingers barely gripping your waist, yet the feeling of his warm touch managed to send a million bolts of heat through your body.

You stand there, wide eyed, your slightly panicked gaze following Lando’s figure as he walks away and back to his spot on the couch. He doesn't seem affected by that at all and you choose to ignore the flutter in your chest when he looks back at you again.

⟡

The sky had changed colours by the time you got out of the shower. The subtle shades of pink and orange turned into black, slowly disrupting the peace of turquoise that you loved to watch.

Lando noticed the change too, beginning to miss your anxious presence in the living room. He shuts off the television and places the remote on the coffee table, leaving all of his other stuff scattered along the glass surface.

His heavy footsteps weigh on the stairs, but you’re far too focused on your skincare to hear anything other than the soft music playing from your phone.

You’re trying your best to focus on anything but Lando.

He’s the only thing on your mind ever since he came here. You’d like to say that you’ve only thought of him romantically since the thing that happened in your bedroom last night, but you’d be lying to yourself. Lando has been on your mind in the romantic way since you both were sixteen, the one time you both got a podium and he gave you a toothy smile, the look on his face enough to make you forget about your rivalry.

And his stay here, as much as you can tolerate it, is slowly making you lose your sanity.

He’s been touching you gently all day, playing it off as if you were in his way, when there was clearly enough room for him to step by. And not to mention the use of petnames. Hearing ‘darling’ fall from his lips made your knees buckle each time.

You decided to shower after he scooted closer to you on the couch, his thigh brushing up against yours, the fabric of your satin shorts riding up just enough to make Lando’s mind reel.

The shower was good enough of a distraction, as you began to focus more on yourself than the man in the house.

And just as you settle in with the fact that this is your new life for the next few days, the bathroom door swings open and Lando peeps in. The sound of a slap echoes through the room as his palm finds his eyes. “I am so sorry.”

“Lando, what the fuck! Get out!” You throw a random towel at him, the white fabric perfectly landing to cover his head.

The curly haired man quickly scrambles to close the door, yelling sincere apologies because, despite seeming like it, this wasn’t another one of his teases. He’s still so lost around your house and he thought this was his bathroom, but turns out that’s far from it.

Despite that being horribly embarrassing for the both of you, Lando couldn’t rid his mind of the image— your hair falling so beautifully on your shoulders, your back dripping with the last few drops of water, the white towel hugging your body so nicely, leaving little to the imagination as it tightly wrapped around your ass.

And the image of your breasts, once again pushed up and so visible in the reflection of the mirror, suddenly made all the blood in his body target one specific location.

It takes Lando two doors to find his bedroom, and he locks the door the second he steps inside. He doesn’t waste time unbuttoning his shorts, his hands quickly pushing them down to his thighs. Lando’s back rests against the pillows on his bed, eyes squinting shut to try and preserve the vibrant image of your body as his hand tugs down his pre-cum soaked boxers.

His slender fingers wrap around his length as his mind completely warps the whole event that just happened.

Lando imagines himself stumbling into the bathroom, you standing there and looking at yourself in the mirror. Instead of you rushing him to leave, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom. Instinctively, his hands wrapped around your waist, but you softly guided his left hand down to your entrance.

Lando can’t help but whimper as he imagines how wet you’d be for him. His hand slowly pumps his cock, applying pressure from time to time, eyes still glued shut.

He imagines you peeling the towel off— agonisingly slow just like the tease you are— to reveal those beautiful breasts he’s been dreaming of seeing. He feels a shock go through his body as his hand speeds up, an orgasm soon to flood his mind.

So he makes the most of it.

Lando imagines himself pulling you in and kissing your lips, fingers still softly touching you down there. Multiple moans and whimpers leave his mouth as he imagines all he’d do to you, and everything he’d let you do to him. He doesn’t hold back at all, your name falling from his lips without any fear of you hearing him.

And you do.

You hear every single moan and whimper, and the sounds of him masturbating to the image of you. For the past eight minutes, your ear has been pressed to the surface of your wooden door, trying to hear every sound he makes, no matter how loud or quiet.

With the final pump of his hand, Lando comes undone, strings of his cum coating the surface of his abdomen and hands.

You hear a deep, throaty groan leave his mouth and the deep breaths that follow after, and you can only imagine how pretty he must look with his curls stuck to his forehead, eyes closed shut and mouth parted in pleasure.

That image alone was enough to make your knees buckle and a certain warmth fill your belly.

It takes you another twenty minutes to gather the courage and walk downstairs. You decide to distract yourself and go grab a bottle of water from the fridge, in an attempt to calm yourself.

The clock on the wall shows 2:43am.

You didn’t realise you spent nearly four hours in the shower, going to such drastic lengths to avoid being in the same room as Lando. And even that didn't work.

Somehow, whether on purpose or by accident, Lando is always where you are.

As you grab yourself a cold bottle of water, you remember when, back in your karting days, Lando got incredibly upset about his DNF. He was stomping around in his racer room and you heard all of it through the thin drywall separating you.

Next thing you knew, Lando had swung your door open, entered your room and slammed the door shut. All he did for the following twenty minutes was sit in your chair, staring at the floor with his eyebrows halfway down his face. You had never seen him so upset, so naturally that made you worry.

He ignored you asking if he was okay and simply sat there, looking at one spot as if it had been at fault for his crash into turn six.

That moment felt like it was a change.

After that, you spent more time together. Just in silence. And it reminded you of earlier today, Lando sitting on the couch when you sat down next to him and both of you watched the TV, just in silence.

Heavy footsteps cut you off from your train of thought, a gulp of water getting caught in your throat when you feel Lando walk through the kitchen.

“Can’t sleep?”

You’re not sure what this new feeling is, but there’s a warmth that fills your body at the sound of his low and raspy voice. You turn towards him, your eyes slightly wider than usual. It doesn’t help that he’s shirtless.

You watch his bare chest flex as he leans on the kitchen island, watching you with piercing green eyes. Quickly blinking, you turn your gaze to anywhere but him. “Yeah. You?”

His burning eyes watch you standing there, the bottle of water still in your hands. You feel yourself growing more nervous at the intense stare he holds on you, your hand slightly trembling.

Lando nods, his thick neck constricting in some parts, making your mouth run dry with how badly you want to kiss it. “Same.”

“Do you want a drink?” You ask, motioning to the water bottle in your hand. Lando briefly nods, his amused eyes still focused on the crimson shade that’s infiltrating your cheeks.

You turn around, your back facing him so you don’t show how red you got from his green eyes boring into you. You grab a glass from the highest cupboard, your shirt lifting enough to reveal your black, silk sleeping shorts that are a bit too short, causing Lando’s eyes to wander, as if he hadn’t already checked you out multiple times today.

With a trembling hand, you give him the glass and he smirks at your nervousness. He takes it from you, his fingers lingering for an extra moment before letting go. His eyes stayed on you as he took a few gulps of the water before finally looking away. You caught yourself watching the way the muscles on his arms swelled as he moved, almost hypnotising you.

Lando catches your fixated gaze again, but you’re too busy ogling at his biceps to notice how intensely he looks at you. Not that you hadn’t noticed it before.

“Thank you.” He says, handing you the glass and watching your fingers wrap around it, his mind travelling back to what he was thinking of upstairs.

You nod as if to say ‘no problem’, a tight-lipped smile on your lips. You stand there for an extra few seconds, your eyes stuck on Lando’s as you bite the inside of your cheek. After realising how weird that was, you turn around and place the glass in the sink. Lando expects you turn back around, but his eyebrows knit together when you stand with your back to him for a bit too long.

You just can’t bring yourself to turn back around, knowing you’d break under the weight of only his gaze. It’s already been too long of a moment with him in the kitchen, and you should have gone upstairs the second you heard him come downstairs, because whatever he came here for isn’t the only thing he’ll be leaving with.

Lando watches you, so still and so nervous. He can practically feel the anxiety bouncing off your skin and that excites him. He feels his voice rumbling in his throat before he even thinks to say anything. “Turn around.”

The stern tone to his unusually deep voice made you shiver, so you almost immediately turned around, eyes on the ground. Lando makes his way around the kitchen island to stand in front of you. You see his black Nike socks come into view and the flutter in your chest multiplies by a million.

Lando places his pointer finger under your chin, slowly raising your face to look at him. When your eyes finally lock onto his, you feel the palm of his hand cup your cheek and his thumb softly caresses it. His other hand softly wraps around your waist and pulls you in closer, your arms subconsciously wrapping around his neck.

You don’t notice how both of you start leaning in, little by little, the distance between your faces growing smaller. There’s an uncertainty in your chest, but Lando makes it go away when his lips part and he stops moving closer.

“Why haven’t you told me to stop?”

You look up at him, noticing the genuine look on his face. You lean in closer, your breath warming Lando’s lips as he anticipates your next move. He feels the soft pressure of your lips on his and then you pull away.

“Maybe I want you to kiss me.”

“I won’t be able to stop if I do, baby.”

You push back a few of the curls that are sticking to his forehead. “Then don’t.”

Lando only needed to hear the confirmation of what he already knew, and his lips immediately clashed with yours again. He feels your fingers softly tangle in his hair, your mouth parting enough for his tongue to slip in.

His fingers dig into your hips, his head moving to the side and deepening the kiss. His teeth softly pull on your bottom lip, earning a quiet whimper to escape your mouth.

“Feel me,” he mumbles against your lips, still sloppily making out with you in the kitchen of you and your brother’s shared home. Fuck. Carlos would kill Lando if he knew what was happening right now.

When you don’t touch him, he grabs one of your hands and slowly traces it down his chest. “Feel how hard I am.”

You bring your hand down, gentle fingers wrapping around his clothed dick. He’s practically throbbing in your hand. When you softly add pressure, he moans.

“Don’t do that, baby.”

You smirk against his lips. “And what if I do?”

When you palm him again, Lando grabs your wrist and tears it away from himself. “Don’t.”

The tone of his voice was enough to make your insides turn to mush. So aggressive, so mean, so hungry. Hunger, that’s what it was.

Lando was hungry for you, for the taste of you, feel of you. Ever since he saw you in that little dress, hips swaying and all. He felt himself twitch again just at the memory of it.

“What if I want to?” You push him further, your hand now resting on his abs, slowly tracing the faint happy trail down to his waistband. “What if I want to touch you?”

Lando’s hand came to cup your face while the other stayed on your hip. He softly snaked his hand around your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. Softly enough as to not hurt you, aggressively enough to make your knees buckle.

A mischievous smile painted itself across your lips. Lando kissed you harshly again. “Are you really this eager for my dick?”

The only answer you gave was your lips on his neck. The skin was warm under your mouth, tongue swirling on the tan before softly sucking on it. You kissed your way down his chest, earning approval from Lando just by the sounds he made. He was so vocal and so loud.

When you reach the waistband of his boxers, the Calvin Klein sticking out above his sweatpants, Lando thinks you’ll stop. But you prove him so wrong when you pull down his sweatpants, fingers tucking themselves behind the waistband of his boxers. You look at him from beneath your lashes, the look alone making him drip pre-cum before you’ve even properly touched him.

“Don’t tease me, baby.” He orders and you follow. You tug down his boxers, his erection flinging up and hitting his happy trail. He groans at the feeling when your fingers wrap around him, stroking his shaft a bit before you start kissing back down his stomach.

You look up at the heaving mess of a man above you, his hands braced on the kitchen island as he tries his best not to show how desperately he needs you, but failing miserably.

“Is this okay?” You ask, hand still softly pumping his throbbing dick.

The curly haired man rapidly nods. “That’s perfect, baby, go ahead.”

Lando swears he’s never felt so fucking turned on as the moment when you started licking up from the base of his cock, ending at the tip and taking him into your mouth.

You start moving your head, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth and pumping the rest of his length with your hand. Lando feels his tip hitting the back of your throat, adding a tinge of extra pleasure to your warm and wet mouth’s feel.

You felt him twitch in your mouth as your tongue and lips worked their magic in making the dominant man squirm at the touch of you. “Ah, fuck.” He moans, his hand coming down to wrap around your hair. “Just like that, darling.”

The nickname makes you let out a soft moan of your own, the vibration sending a sort of shock down Lando’s dick. You felt yourself getting wetter, your thighs trying to rub together and ease the tension between your legs.

“I’ll take care of you,” Lando heaved, tightening his grip on your hair as he subconsciously started thrusting into your mouth. You feel tears prick your eyes as you gag at the feeling of his dick deep-throating you. “You’re being so fucking good for me, baby– fuck.”

Your whimpers vibrate through his dick and you feel his hips hitching, telling you that he’s close. But you don’t pull away and Lando notices. A smirk grows on his face when you let him continue to face-fuck you, his high soon to paint your throat.

A loud and strained moan leaves Lando’s lips, you felt a warmth fill your mouth. Lando looks down at you as he pulls out and you bat your eyelashes at him, mouth full of the sweetest man you’ve ever tasted.

“Swallow,” he orders, his fingers harshly hooking under your chin. You swallow and he intensely looks at you, his eyes holding a strict glare at you. “All of it.”

Fuck. If you said that’s not one of the hottest things you’ve heard him say, you’d be lying.

When you do as told, he cups your face and pulls you up with his other arm. He doesn’t hesitate closing the gap between your mouths, feeling the taste of himself mixed with your saliva makes his head reel.

The moment is spoiled by a ringing phone in the living room. Lando groans against your mouth when he realises that it’s his.

“Go to my room and wait for me,” he mumbles. A whine leaves your lips as he pulls you away and you watch as Lando tucks himself back into his boxers before picking up the phone call.

You make your way up the stairs as quietly as possible and when you enter Lando’s room, it’s not exactly what you had imagined it to be— you expected it to be messy, clothes scattered on the floor and bed unmade. It shocked you to see his clothes nicely folded on his chair and his bed neat.

The duvet is soft against your thighs as you plop down and lean back against the pillows. The same pillows he was sat against when you heard him earlier, the same pillows your face will be nuzzled into as he–

The door opens as soon as you think of him. Lando walks in, his curls messily sticking to his forehead as a reminder of how hot and bothered you had him downstairs.

“Who was that?” You tilt your head to the side when Lando walks closer to you, putting his phone down onto the nightstand.

He lays down next to you and pulls you to sit on his thighs. “Doesn’t matter.”

You had begun to miss the taste of his lips against yours. You watched as Lando’s eyes trace your features, lingering on your lips, green eyes following the dip in your cupid's bow before he kisses you again.

Lando’s lips taste better the second time you kiss him, and the third, and the fourth, and the many more times that make you end up with your back against the mattress and Lando’s face between your thighs.

You closed your eyes shut when Lando’s lips made contact with your clit, softly sucking on it and nipping at it with his teeth. His tongue swirled around it, sending shocks through your body.

Stars twinkle on the inside of your eyelids and you arch your back when Lando teases your hole with his finger, before pushing it in agonisingly slow. He fingers you with a pace that brings you closer to your high, and when you’re about to fall apart under his touch, Lando pulls away.

All that pleasant feeling is suddenly gone from your body and you lean up on your elbows to look at Lando. “What the fuck?”

Lando laughs at your disappointment as he licks his fingers clean. “You didn’t think I’d let you cum not on my cock?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Thought you’re nicer than that.”

Lando helps you put your clothes back on before plopping down to lay beside you and pull you into a tight cuddle. “Then you must not know me at all.”

⟡

Early morning sunshine beamed through the gap of the closed curtain and it blinded you the second you opened your eyes.

The first thing you remember feeling was warm. Overwhelmingly warm. You never sleep with thick sheets or anything that could make you wake up uncomfortably hot, so this was unusual.

The second thing you noticed was a curly head of hair on your chest.

You were annoyed at first, him being the source of the annoying heat. But then, as your fingers softly played with his curls, you grew a smile on your face.

His hair was soft. It felt like the softest thing in the world.

Lando still seemed fast asleep, so you decided to try and sleep some more, too. The second you closed your eyes, Lando switched positions and ended up spooning you again.

His lips pressed up against the back of your neck as he said, “morning, baby.”

You put your arms on his, him tightly hugging your waist, and smile a bit. “Morning, Lan.” You feel him nuzzle his head into your neck and hold you tight, planning to stay in this bed all day.

That is, until you hear the front door open and Carlos shuffling around in the kitchen. Lando freezes when Carlos’ spanish accent echoes through the room. “Y/N?”

You turn around and pull your lips into a tight line with an apologetic look on your face, before kissing him on the lips. Lando chases after you when you pull away and brings you in for a few more kisses. His arms still wrap around you and he pulls you into his chest. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” You kiss one of the moles on his bare chest, softly tracing his side with your fingers. “I’d stay if I could.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of your head. It’s such a gentle action that it makes your stomach twist with the notion that this is probably the last moment you’ll have with him like this, before going back to hating each other.

Lando’s arms pull away from your back, yet his biceps still hold you caged in his embrace. You feel him fumbling with the bracelets he likes to wear. He takes one off— a McLaren one he got gifted by a fan, with his racer number neatly carved into the brown, wooden bead that’s in the middle of the orange beads— and flips you to your side.

You turn around to watch as he loosens the bracelet before softly slipping it around your wrist and tightening it, his fingers gripping your wrist in a way that makes your insides turn.

“So you remember me. And this.” He explains.

You smile. “I could never forget this. Or you.”

Lando laughs. His chest vibrates with a laughter that you feel in your spine. “Sappy, much?”

You roll your eyes, playfully. “Fuck you.”

And you’re back to normal— the banter, the eye-rolls, the annoying presence of Lando. It all comes rushing back.

When you go downstairs, you greet Carlos with a tight hug and pray he can’t smell the lingering scent of Lando’s cologne that’s managed to soak into your clothes.

“Morning.” You say. Carlos nods his head before turning back around to make himself some food. “How was it at Charles’?”

“Boring,” he rolled his eyes playfully, obviously joking. “I’m surprised you didn’t wreck the house by being alone with Lando for a day.”

You shrug, seated on the island in the very same spot Lando was leaning against in the early hours of the morning. “I didn’t even notice he was here, honestly.”

You couldn’t be more of a liar in that moment. And Carlos knew that. He noticed the bracelet on your wrist, but more importantly — the faint hickeys halfway hiding behind the collar of your shirt.

Your brother’s lucky his back was to you, so you didn’t notice the slight smirk on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You look down at your feet, trying to come up with literally anything else to talk about.

Carlos shrugs. “That’s nice.”

Lando’s footsteps echo through the kitchen as he makes his way through the room. He doesn’t spare a glance at you, but gently squeezes your knee as he walks past and when Carlos isn’t watching.

“Are we leaving tonight?” He asks, plopping himself on one of the dining room chairs.

Carlos plates the scrambled eggs and toast he just made. “Yeah. I assume you’ve already packed your bags?”

Lando gives you a look and you look at him, a small smirk on your face. Lando can’t help but bite his lip to hide the smile creeping up on his face. “Yeah, of course.”

“I have a few more things to pack up, but I’m mostly done.” You lie, watching as Carlos brings his breakfast to the living room.

The rest of the day is spent frantically packing, Lando sneaking in a few small kisses when Carlos isn’t looking, and trying to hide it as best as possible from him.

Little did you two know, Carlos was in on the secret.

[diamonddaze01]

HEYYY. I read your off the record jeonghan's fic and OH MY GOD. IT WAS SOOOOOOOO AMAZING AND GOOD. CHEF'S KISS MWAH

I was wondering if you can do jeonghan 75 drabble. I would really really appreciate it. thank you and love you mwah

off the record

pairing: jeonghan x reader | wc: 1.3k prompt: "guess who's going to be a father!" au: f1 au | warnings: mentions of pregnancy a/n: hello hello nari your asks always make me smile <3 // this is a continuation of [on the record] bc ferrari!jeonghan lives in my head rent free (highly recommend you read on the record first for some context)

The atmosphere at the Australian Grand Prix was electric, the roar of the crowd still echoing as the last of the race cars pulled into the pit lane. Jeonghan had just secured yet another win, and the sea of Ferrari red flooded every corner of the paddock. The team was in chaos—cheers and hugs, champagne spraying everywhere, mechanics shaking with excitement—but Jeonghan’s gaze was fixed on something else.

You stood just outside the frenzy, leaning casually against the barrier, your camera poised as you snapped a few final shots. You’d been here before, a part of this circus. But today, you had a story of your own to deal with, one that Jeonghan was certain would find its way to his attention.

Jeonghan peeled off his helmet and flashed a grin at the crew as they crowded around him. But his eyes were still searching for you.

A few weeks ago, you'd written something that had the entire paddock talking. 

"Guess Who’s Going to be a Father!" 

Yoon Jeonghan, Ferrari’s golden boy, had been linked to a famous model, Sienna Hartley, the stunning up-and-coming fashion icon known for her work with luxury brands. A few months ago, the paparazzi had caught the two of them together at a private event. The photos were casual enough—Jeonghan with his arm around her waist, a smile that seemed too comfortable—but it was the following week’s headlines that sent the media into a frenzy.

The shots of Sienna taken at an upscale café, her baby bump unmistakable under a form-fitting dress, had people running wild with speculation. Was Jeonghan going to be a father? Had he been keeping a secret relationship? The rumors only grew when neither Jeonghan nor Sienna commented on the speculation, leaving fans and gossip columns to fill in the blanks.

The rumblings were only growing louder, and of course, you had jumped into the fray, teasing the possibility of Jeonghan becoming a father. The headline had been coy but suggested a connection between the two, leaving just enough room for interpretation. And now, here he was, stepping out of the car, knowing exactly who was responsible for the chaos.

As he walked toward you, the crowd parted around him, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. He could practically feel the mischievous energy radiating from you, even from a distance. The subtle smirk tugging at your lips was all the warning he needed.

Jeonghan approached with slow, deliberate steps, his face a mixture of amusement and challenge. "So we write fake articles now, do we, sweetheart?" he called, his voice carrying across the pit lane.

You didn’t even flinch. With a calm, collected posture, you raised an eyebrow, offering him a half-smile as you lowered your camera. "Just reporting what people are saying," you replied smoothly, voice teasing. "You know, about you possibly becoming a father this year."

"People are saying that?" Jeonghan asked, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. He stepped closer, clearly enjoying the tension building between you two. "Maybe you’ve been spending too much time with the gossip columnists, huh? Could’ve sworn the last time I checked, we were talking about race wins, not baby bumps."

You shrugged, not missing a beat. "Well, Jeonghan, it’s not my fault your personal life keeps getting more interesting than your driving. You really should be more careful with who you’re seen with."

His eyes darkened playfully. "Careful? You think I care about rumors?" he quipped, leaning in just a little bit closer, his voice dropping to a lower, more flirtatious tone. "But if you wanted to get my attention, sweetheart, there are far better ways than a headline about some fake baby."

You tilted your head, smiling in that way that always left him unsure whether you were teasing or challenging him. "Who says I want your attention?" you replied with a hint of challenge, crossing your arms as if daring him to press further.

Jeonghan’s smile only widened. "You’ve got my attention now, don't you?" he teased, his fingers brushing against the barrier you were leaning on, his proximity making it hard to ignore the way the air between you two shifted.

You glanced up at him, keeping your expression casual, but the spark in your eyes was undeniable. "Oh, I don’t know," you said nonchalantly, "maybe I’m just here to enjoy the view of a guy in red doing what he does best – reckless maneuvers that still somehow let him win, y’know?" You paused, letting that sink in. "Though if you really wanted to shut down those rumors, maybe you should take a different approach."

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

You gave him a sly smile. "I don’t know. Maybe just come out and say you’re not the father. Or, you know, get more specific about who you’re spending time with. The fans love a good love story, after all."

The way his expression shifted made it clear that he wasn’t quite ready for this conversation to take that turn. His jaw clenched, a hint of frustration appearing under the surface, but it was quickly replaced with his signature smirk. "Sweetheart, you sure talk a big game for someone who's so quiet when it counts."

You leaned in just a little, enough for your words to linger in the air between you. "I could say the same about you," you shot back, eyes glinting with mischief.

Jeonghan paused, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth, but you had him on edge in a way that he didn’t expect. "Listen," he said, his tone dipping lower, his voice now laced with more than just flirtation. "There's only one girl in the paddock I have eyes for, and it sure as hell isn’t Sienna Hartley."

The tension between you two was palpable, a spark igniting in your chest at his words. You met his gaze head-on, not backing down. "And who says I’m interested in your attention, Jeonghan?" you shot back, smirking. "Maybe I just like watching you squirm under pressure."

He leaned in a little more, his breath coming out a little sharper. "You really think you can get under my skin with a headline like that?" he murmured, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "I’m not the one with something to prove, sweetheart."

You could feel his breath on your skin, but instead of feeling intimidated, a thrill ran through you. "Then why do you look like you’re about to lose that smug grin?" you teased, lifting your chin just slightly, making sure the challenge was clear in your words.

Jeonghan grinned, his teeth flashing. "Oh, I’m not losing anything," he said, the playful tone returning. "But if you really want to get my attention, there are better ways than headlines."

You smirked, standing your ground. "Oh? Well, if you want to do something better with your mouth than argue with me, you know where to find me." You shot him a quick wink and began to turn away.

Jeonghan's eyes widened for a moment as he processed your words, and for the briefest second, he was completely thrown off. His confident swagger faltered, and it was then that you realized: you’d left him flustered.

You glanced back over your shoulder with a smug grin. "But I’ll be honest, Jeonghan," you called out, "I’d much rather see you focus on keeping your title than keeping up with rumors."

And with that, you turned and walked off, leaving Jeonghan standing there, still processing your bold departure. His pulse was racing, but not because of the race. This time, it was because of you—your words, your attitude, and the way you had him on edge in a way no one else could.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, but the smile on his face betrayed how much he appreciated the challenge. “I should’ve asked her to dinner.”

But knowing you, this was far from over. And next time? He might just have something to say about it.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[elixirfromthestars]

Crossroads

Pairing: Ex!Bucky Barnes x Neurosurgeon!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night on your way home, fate decides to cross your path with someone who used to hold the dearest place in your heart.

Word Count: 4.2k

Warning(s): ANGST / heartbreak / failed relationship / very tiny mention of a surgical procedure, not in great detail / I know I mentioned angst already, but this is all angst with maybe like a tiny sprinkle of fluff / medical career mentions (I did my research, but just in case I got anything wrong) / mentions of Bucky's trauma and hardships from his past

Prompt/Theme: chai latte (caught in the cold rain) + melancholy (write a tragic tale)

a/n: This is my submission for @the-slumberparty ‘s Winds of Autumn Challenge. Did I choose melancholy because of my name? Perhaps 🫢 In all honesty, it has been too long since I wrote a pure angst piece, so I knew I had to write something to get the heartbreak going. As a piece of advice, not everything is as it seems, so wait till the end for the whole story to come together. I would say happy reading, but instead, I'll wait here with tissues and a hug for those who need it after reading this. ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`) Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

bucky masterlist ♡ // main masterlist ♡

Lightning crackles across the sky as you scurry across the puddle-ridden streets of New York desperately searching for a cab. The wind had rendered your umbrella useless, so the rain fell in harsh sheets against your body—soaking you from head to toe. 

You had been performing an emergency surgery on one of your patients in a different hospital from the one you resided in. Your patient had suffered from an aneurysm brought on by a complication from a previous surgery. She couldn’t be transported across the city as immediate medical attention was needed, so you were transported to said hospital via the hospital helicopter. 

Which you obviously couldn’t use to fly back home.

The surgery took longer than anticipated—eight hours to be exact. When you were close to being done there was unexpected bleeding coming from the surgical sight and you had to go back in and reexamine everything to stop the bleeding. Thankfully, there were no more complications after that and you could focus on stabilizing your patient so she could go and recover in the intensive care unit.

The downpour had started towards the end of your surgery. You were far from home and the already unfamiliar streets had blurred together amongst the harsh streaks of water obscuring your vision. It was still the early hours of the night and you were exhausted—longing to collapse against your bedsheets and wrap yourself in their warmth. Tiredness had seeped its way into your bones faster than the rain had seeped into your coat. 

As you cross another street you spot a bus shelter nearby and make a run for it. Knowing it might be a while before you can catch a cab and at least those glass walls would be enough to protect you from the icy wind that threatened to freeze you. Once inside you try your best to warm up your hands, observing the way your breath materializes in the air. You consider ordering a rideshare, but you know the numbness in your fingertips has to go away before you can take your phone out and order it. 

Fate, however, had other plans for you. 

“Y/n?”

Your body stiffens when a voice calls your name, flinching slightly at the way the thunder that follows rattles the glass shelter. The shiver that makes its way down your spine is no longer from the chilly air. 

This can’t be happening—not after two years. Not when you had finally moved on from him. 

He calls your name again, his presence cementing itself into reality. You don’t want to face him, but there’s that small part of you—the part that will forever be his—that begs you to look. That needs to know if it's him. 

Your head turns slowly, holding your breath as you keep your emotions in check as best as you can. Hoping the universe was playing a cruel joke on you and presenting you with someone who sounded exactly like him. 

But what stranger would ever utter your name with such heart-aching familiarity?

Deep down you knew there was no mistaking it. It was him. It was Bucky. You would know the sound of his voice even in the loudest of crowds—like a language only your heart spoke. Even now when it was on the cusp of becoming a forgotten one.

Your eyes meet his as a flash of lightning illuminates you both. Your heart squeezes in your chest at the way his eyes seem stormier than the sky. Filled with as many conflicting emotions as you know are reflected in yours. 

“Bucky. Hi…”

When you find your voice it sounds foreign to you—quiet and tight. The years of rebuilding every part of yourself are on the edge of crumbling down in a simple greeting. Bucky gives you a small smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes as he looks between you and the bus shelter. He frowns for a moment as if having a silent debate with himself.

“Is it okay if I um…?” He nods towards the inside of the bus shelter as he trails off. This is when you finally notice the way the rain whips against his skin, soaking him where he stands, and it dawns on you what he’s asking. 

He wants to know if it’s okay for him to seek shelter from the rain with you. The man who used to insist on holding your hand wherever you went because he loved the feeling of your hand in his, the man who would hug you from behind and hide in the crook of your neck as he showered it with kisses when he missed you on the days you came home late, the man who cuddled you close every night and whispered how much he loved you between kisses that seemed to want to reach your very soul—that man was now asking for your permission to be in the same space as you. 

Oh, how cruel fate could be…

“Yes, of course. It's fine,” your response is polite—too polite, and your movements are virtually robotic as you take a few steps to your right to keep a stranger’s distance between you. He mumbles a small thanks before he steps inside, his hands firmly in his jacket pockets. Keeping to his personal space as much as possible.

Silence stretches between you—heavy with unspoken sentiments—interrupted only by the booming of thunder and the drumming of rain as it hits whatever is in its way. You try to distract yourself by counting the seconds between the stoplight changing from green to yellow to red and then green again, but it's no use when he’s but a few steps away from you. The man who you used to know like the back of your hand is now a stranger and it's causing you more distress than you’d like to admit. The inside of your cheek feels the brunt of that torment as you bite it incessantly. You have to do something about this silence before it consumes you. 

“How have you—”

“How’s it been—”

You both speak up at the same time, holding each other’s gaze for a fraction of a second before falling into an awkward laugh. He clears his throat before encouraging you to speak first. You look away, the civility of his tone crawling under your skin and unstitching mended wounds—some of which still had not fully healed yet. 

“Okay, well how have you been, Bucky?”

“Good. I’ve been good. You?”

“Oh. I’ve been good too.”

The exchange went by quickly between half-truths and hesitations. Then it crept up again—the silence. Gnawing at you both and mocking you for not being able to have a simple conversation. When words between you used to flow as freely as the rain that traps you here—really the lack of vocabulary now is laughable. Your past selves would have never been able to wrap their heads around how hard talking to one another would be. 

Your past selves would also never understand why you broke up.

Your current self still doesn’t entirely understand. 

Bucky shifts on his feet, lips in a tight line as he speaks up, “I read about your recent award. Congratulations, you deserved it,” the sincerity in his voice causes your head to snap in his direction. When you see his genuine smile, one that makes the corner of his eyes slightly crinkle, it tugs at your heartstrings in a way that threatens to pull you back to him. 

You won that award for your research achievements in neuroscience a few months ago. Which could only mean that at least until a few months ago, Bucky had been keeping up with you. A piece of information that left you speechless and with a million thoughts running through your mind.

Had he always kept up with you?

Or did he only just recently revisit a part of his past?

Were you on his mind all this time like he had been in yours?

There was so much you wanted to ask—to say—but instead, your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water until you were able to mutter a soft, “Thank you.” The sound so quiet it was almost swallowed by the rain. Bucky caught it, however, his body less rigid hearing the familiar cadence. He smiles a little wider, the kind of smile that chips away at the walls you built up these last two years and insists you spill a string of secrets you have locked away in the deepest depths of your heart. 

All secrets that revolve around him.

How you also kept up with him, never scrolling past a social media or news post highlighting anything that had to do with the Avengers in hopes of getting a glimpse of him. Visiting the coffee shop where you two met on occasions telling yourself it's because no other coffee tastes better, but really it's because of the memories of you two that lie in every corner of that building. The loss of him follows you even when you order takeout because you would rather deal with the lie of ordering for two rather than with the truth of ordering for one.

However, the biggest secret of them all pertains to those days when the ache, the longing, and the loneliness become a cacophony too loud to ignore, that you find yourself rummaging through your closet. Searching for the shoe box that’s tucked away amongst miscellaneous items. One that holds the pieces of your heart that shattered the day Bucky broke up with you.

A faded movie ticket from the Lord of the Rings marathon you took him to, gum wrappers folded into hearts that Bucky had a habit of doing every time you needed a new bookmark, photobooth pictures that always ended with you two kissing, a letter he wrote you on your one year anniversary where he told you he loved you for the first time, and other items you cherished with every part of you. 

Holding onto these things might seem to others like a mistake when your goal is to move on, but these were things you couldn’t find the strength to get rid of. And if that made you weak, clinging onto bits of what was the greatest love of your life, then so be it. 

You were weak—and quite frankly you didn’t give a damn.

The one thing holding you back from pouring your heart out to Bucky was how things had ended. The vagueness, the fight, the resentment and confusion. All of it took hold of you and screamed at you to be more cautious—to keep your guard up. 

Thunder snaps you out of your thoughts, grounding you in the present once more. You need answers, but you know you have to be careful about how you retrieve them. 

You cross your arms, pressing your coat tighter against your body in an attempt to comfort yourself—turning to face him only to have your heart skip a beat when you realize he is already looking at you. His gaze softens with a vulnerability that makes the words get stuck in your throat. 

You let out a shaky exhale, “I uh—I saw Sam became the new Captain America. I also saw you on the news fighting alongside him. Are you two friends now?” The question comes out innocent enough, making Bucky’s demeanor brighten as he takes it as a sign that you’re open to talking to him. Your hidden intention behind that question is a need for confirmation of something that eats away at you anytime you think about his reason for breaking up with you. 

Bucky runs a hand through his damp hair, “Yeah, sort of—it's a long story. We went on a mission together and I realized he wasn’t that annoying, so we became mission partners and I guess you could consider us friends now,” he explains to you with a fond expression, one that leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Through the occasional flashes of lightning you’re able to get a better look at him and the sinking feeling is on the verge of drowning you. 

Bucky no longer had harsh dark circles under his eyes, his scruff was nicely shaven, and his posture was lighter as if the world was no longer falling heavily on his shoulders. His hair is shorter than when you last saw him, he had lost a bit of weight, and he had found a friend in Sam. Something you had encouraged him to do while you two were still together, but he refused on account of saying he only needed you. All of this verified to you the one thing you feared the most. 

Bucky had been right all along. He had been right in breaking up with you. 

Two years ago, Bucky had sat you down on his living room couch and told you he wasn’t ready for a relationship. That was it—that was his reason for ending things with you after almost two years of being together. He claimed he wasn’t ready for a long-term commitment, not after everything he had gone through. And seeing him now, seeing how much better he looked was enough proof for you. No amount of your love, your support, or your companionship would have been enough to keep him in your life. 

Bucky had been right all along, and you hated how utterly bitter that made you. 

How could you accept that what tore you to pieces mended Bucky back together?

The air between you shifts, it’s thick and acrid, and your heart races in your chest with fury as loud as the thunder that rumbles in the clouds. Leaving you wondering if Bucky can differentiate which one is more turbulent. He can sense the change in you and it causes the heaviness in his shoulders to return and his body to go rigid—his own heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

Your phone rings and you use it as an excuse to turn away from Bucky. You pull it out of your bag and check the caller ID—it's Nate. Your neighbor from down the hall of your apartment complex who moved in a couple of months ago, and was now a casual hookup of yours. You weren’t one for hookups, but after years of no connection you longed to feel something—anything with anyone. 

You were only human after all. 

You answer the call, needing to put your attention elsewhere before you say anything to Bucky you might regret later. You keep your responses short, knowing Nate could only be calling you at this hour for one reason and one reason only. Bucky didn’t need to know that reason, so you decide to keep the conversation as brief as possible. 

Bucky shifts his weight on his feet as he pretends to watch the rain. Focusing on a water droplet sliding down the glass wall as it races the other droplets to the ground. He’s tempted to use his super soldier hearing to listen in on your conversation, but he knows he doesn’t have the right to. There are only bits and pieces that slip through—like the fact that you’re talking to a man—and it has one soul-crushing thought come to his mind.

You have someone. Bucky comes to the conclusion that you have moved on. 

As soon as you end the call the words slip out of Bucky’s mouth before he can stop them. 

“Was that your boyfriend?” The word boyfriend tastes bitter on his tongue and he can’t help the prickly edge to his voice. You catch the way his jaw tenses and he averts your gaze—ripping the wounds of heartbreak right open. He has no right to feel any sort of way about you moving on. He knows it, you know it, and yet there he is troubled at the thought of you with someone else. 

Screw not saying something you’ll regret later. 

“Yeah. That was him,” you lie with the utmost confidence that even you believe it. A tiny voice in the back of your head scolds you for lying, but it's hard to hear it when the resentment fights its way up to the surface and wins. 

Bucky had fallen from a train, been brainwashed, tortured, beaten left and right in battles, gone to war, blipped out of existence, stabbed and shot more times than he can count and yet no physical blow could ever amount to the sheer devastating pain he was feeling right now knowing you had found someone else. Knowing there was someone else who got to see your sleepy smiles in the mornings, who got to cuddle you close to his chest on movie nights, who got to steal kisses from you while cooking dinner together, and who got to hear your laughter whenever he wanted—a sound that never failed to make Bucky all warm and fuzzy inside. 

There was someone else who now had the privilege and the honor to be loved by you, and to love you.

Bucky would never be able to recover from that.

“I’m…happy for you. I’m happy you were able to move on,” Bucky lies through his teeth as he says those words that feel like acid on his tongue. 

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter,” you retort coldly, causing Bucky to flinch as if you had struck him. 

“Y/n I—”

“No. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear how you weren’t ready for a relationship. How ending it was for the best. Breaking every single promise you made to me like it meant nothing to you. You don’t tell someone you love them, that you want to move in together—you don’t talk about the future and then turn around and break up with them because you’re not ready for something long-term. Not unless…not unless it was all a lie from the start,” your voice cracks by the end and it takes everything within you to swallow the lump in your throat before it suffocates you. 

The thunder roars so loudly it shakes the glass walls around you and for a second you think they might break—but ultimately they don’t. Bucky doesn’t know what to say, taking a sharp intake of a breath before blowing out the air in what sounds like a choked sob. Every fiber of his being longs to break the distance, wrap you in his arms, and never let you go. Cradling you close to his chest like he used to whenever you were upset. 

He had lost that privilege—he’s well aware of that, and yet his wishes remain the same. 

Bucky knows there’s more he can say. Things that might not restore what was broken, but that will definitely give you answers or closure. Although, at the risk of hurting you even more he keeps them to himself and instead whispers a strained, “I’m sorry.” Letting the weight of his apology hang in the air.

Your tears threaten to spill, but you blink them away not wanting to cry in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t be bitter and resentful—after all the man you loved with your whole heart ended up better off without you. If you truly loved him you should be happy for him. Despite that, there is no ounce of happiness that you can conjure up for him right now. At this moment, you are swimming in an ocean of negative emotions that are close to pulling you under into a very dark place. 

You can be the bigger person tomorrow—tonight you won’t be.

Bucky can hear it before it comes into view, a cab is finally making its way down the road. He steps out into the road to wave it down, the rain ricocheting off of his shoulders. Without speaking another word, he heads over to the cab and opens the door to the backseat, gesturing for you to go in. For a second, you hesitate to take the cab. You know once you do this is it—it's over. 

A beat passes until you make a decision. With a heavy heart, you force one foot in front of the other, stepping into the rain and then into the backseat. Accepting this small gesture from Bucky as a heartfelt goodbye. If you stuck around any longer that bit of animosity brewing in the pit of your stomach would’ve boiled over. 

You don’t look at Bucky as he closes the door, but you steal one last glance at him as you tell the driver your address. The sight squeezes your chest so tightly it might stop beating—Bucky is crying. He’s hiding it well with the rain and with the way he stands, but you know him better than that. At one point he was your other half and you can tell by the way his jaw trembles, his eyes narrow, and his expression molds to one of pain that he’s crying.

You hide your face from him as the dam breaks and everything you had been holding back comes flooding out.

Bucky steps back into the shelter of the glass walls and watches the cab drive off with you in it—taking his heart and his hope with you. 

Bucky tries to force the tears to stop, but he knows it's no use. Just like you, he had held back a sea of truths he wanted to confess. Truths he wasn’t sure you even wanted to hear or he even deserved to tell. 

Bucky is not doing good. He has to throw himself into work and missions every waking moment because if he doesn’t his thoughts will run straight to you. Every night he has to hold his pillow close to his chest because he got so used to sleeping with you cuddled against him, that he feels like a part of him is missing and it steals his sleep. He tosses and turns for hours and stares at the ceiling as if there he’ll find the answers on how to make the heartache go away. In the silence, he longs to hear your voice, so the radio and the tv stay on so he doesn’t have to sit with the uncomfortable. The food he eats lacks flavor and the world around him seems devoid of color. 

His existence feels soulless without you.

Sam is trying to get him to talk about it, but you’re the one thing Sam is not allowed to bring up. Not when Bucky is ashamed of the full story—of the truth. 

The full story—the full truth—was the one thing most of all that he wanted to get off of his chest and confess to you. Bucky didn’t break up with you because he wasn’t ready for a long-term relationship. That was the biggest lie he had ever told and one that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

He was ready. He was so damn ready he even bought the ring to ask you to marry him—to make forever official. That was until he noticed how his problems began to bleed into your life. So much so, that your career as a surgeon began to suffer from it. The one thing you were most passionate about—your dream—the one thing you worked blood, sweat, and tears for was in jeopardy because Bucky was still suffering from the baggage of his past as the Winter Solider.

Bucky felt like a burden. You would never call him that and he knew if you ever heard him call himself that, you would do and say everything you could to assure him he was wrong. You loved him so deeply and so selflessly that your career became an afterthought. When his nightmares plagued him, when his PTSD was triggered, when the world felt like it was closing in on him—there you were. By his side no matter the time of day to hold him close and reassure him he wasn’t alone, that he was safe, and that he was loved. Bucky had become so dependent on you he didn’t realize how it had affected you until he stumbled across the warning letters your job sent, the voicemails, and the overheard calls. The articles that came out questioning your morality for dating the Winter Solider—a cold-blooded killer.

Your reputation as a surgeon was on the line because of him.

That’s when Bucky knew he had to call it off. He had to be the one to end it and fix his own problems before his darkness ruined you. You had sacrificed so much and worked endlessly to prove yourself in your field, that there was no way he would let you risk all of that for him. He knew he couldn’t be honest with you over the real reasons—you would never accept them. So he made sure to find a reason that would lead you to hate him. 

Bucky knew he had to be the villain of the story. He was used to it, he’d be okay with it. As long as you were safe from the shadows that followed him, he would gladly be the bad guy. For some people that was all he’d ever be, at least in this case he could control the narrative and in the end it would benefit you.

Bucky couldn’t give you forever, no, but in letting you go he made sure you kept your dream—and that was enough for him. That meant everything to him. 

He had to suffer the greatest loss of his life so that the love of his life could be free. A hard truth that he would forever carry the weight of and that you would never know was done as an ultimate act of love—the selfless act of knowing when to say goodbye. 

[potchi-fics]

2:27 am (part four of attention)

i | ii | iii | iv

      sevika wakes up with a sore body. strangely, she notices that her body is patched up, wounds clean and all, hell, even littered with bandages and gauze. she checks the aged clock that is nailed on the wall: 2:27. her gaze falls to her window, seeing its still dark— its 2:27 in the morning. a groan of pain emits from her trying to sit up which she did, almost dying in the process. however, soft snores and breathing catch her attention.

its you. 

what are you still doing in here with her? you’re supposed to leave. but who is she kidding, you look soft like an angel–  your hands wrapped around a pillow on your chest, and your head laying on top of it. she doesnt know it but a small smile is on her rugged face: foolish woman. only does she stop staring at your figure when she sees a shiver from your figure to get you a blanket.

but her heavy footsteps cause you to wake up and groggily ask her.

“where you goin’?” your voice laced with sleepiness.

Sevika signals for you to take the couch, “to find a blanket.”

      you are about to protest except she shushes you with a look, successfully shutting you up. she disappears into another room as you quietly move to the couch. you lay down face-first, sleep taking over. 

“here,” the blanket gets thrown on your back, “use it.”

     you thought she was gonna stay but she heads for the door. pushing through your exhaustion, you lift your head up to ask her the same question.

“where you going, sevika?” you glance at the clock, “its 2:33 in the morning, come back here on the couch.”

      without looking back at you, she pulls out a cape.

she takes a few seconds, “job’s not finished.”

“atleast take a couple of more hours to rest,” you argue back.

      you stand up to block her way– determined to somehow find a way to stop her. you look up at her, she’s a massive woman and you hate that you like it. 

sevika frowns, “step aside, topsider.”

“im serious, youre hurt,” your voice holds concern, “and youre hurt bad.”

“and im serious, step aside.” 

      she takes a step forward but you dont budge. you only cross your arm before poking her side, the moment you see her wince, you raise your eyebrow. 

she swats your finger away, “dont touch me.”

      you poke her again, wanting to prove your point. you wont back down easily. she’s hurt and you will do everything in your power to stop her. unexpectedly, she roughly grabs your wrist and pushes you against the nearest wall– pinning you. 

“youre real stubborn,” sevika pushes her thick hips onto yours.

you discreetly swallow, “im just sayin’.”

“stay out of my way, topsider,” she leans down, close enough that you can see every minute detail on her face.

      you dare to get closer, one gust of wind and your lips will meet. she gazes at your lips for a split second, returning to your eyes immediately. your own admire her scars, how the blue blends well with her skin, how it sends fire to your abdomen– again.

yet one question lingers in your mind.

“why do you care?” she pulls away.

      she beats you to it. why do you care? you’ve only met her a couple of days ago. your mind racks up to try and formulate an answer but nothing comes.

sevika’s voice slices through the tense silence, “this means nothing.”

      the both of you withdraw from each other, chests heaving due to just what happened. a horndog is what you are, dont even deny it.

her footsteps get quieter as she exits the door– you look fixedly at the floor, your arms falling back to your side. reality sinks in: yeah, this means nothing. why do i care? the click of the door makes you grit your teeth; frustrated at not only sevika, but yourself as well because what are you doing? why do you care for a woman who youve only met days ago? 

this means nothing.

      you throw yourself into your work after that altercation. all you have done is work all day and all night, not bothering to take a break and it is evident on your face– tired eyes, not sleeping and eating properly, and exhausted. nonetheless, she’s still in your head. you cant seem to get her out of your mind. 

you lean back on your chair, “get out of my fucking head.”

“get who out of your head?” a british woman stands in the doorway of your workshop.

you perk up, “caitlyn, what are you doing here?”

“im here if youre gonna go and come to progress day.” caitlyn leans on the frame of your doorway. “also, ive heard you havent been eating well. or resting, in general.”

your chair creaks as you lean back, “ill think ‘bout it. and im fine, caitlyn.”

      she’s a friend of yours, she stops by your shop every once in a while to help her with the maintenance of her gun. although you consider her a friend, she doesnt know about your secret trips to the undercity nor your interaction with silco’s righthand woman, sevika. she raises her eyebrow but you dismiss it, working back on your project. 

“really, im okay, officer kiramman,” just in time, her mother calls out for her, “and your mothers calling you. say hi to her for me.”

“take care of yourself, will you,” caitlyn bids you goodbye.

      the grip on your small screwdriver loosens up and it drops on your table with a thud: get out of my head, sevika. 

she consumes all of your thoughts: her scent, her body, her nose, her. you think back to when she pressed herself against you, how solid and hard she was, how she was much bigger than you, how she could pin both of your hands using only one from her. god, it sends heat throughout your body, you cant help it. the things she’s doing to you even when she’s not around. one day, ill kill her myself– you bang your forehead on the table.

note: is it obvious that this is a slow burn

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Hiiii I see u are taking request for Lucius Verus x reader.

I was thinking something like at the end when he becomes emperor he will need a new wife…👀 but he doesn't want a new wife so he tries to delay the choice, but then he meets the reader (us) and we can be whatever u like, I was thinking about like a slave or something idk.

Sorry if my English isn’t right !!

Hell yes I can write this for you ❤️❤️❤️ thanks for requesting!!

————-

“But Imperator—”

“But nothing,” Lucius interrupted, holding up a hand. “I have already made my decision.”

Ravi clicked his tongue in disapproval, lowering his voice. “It is no use being so stubborn, my friend.”

Lucius huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “It is not without reason.”

“I know that, but that was another life, and her memory has carried you this far,” Ravi said, his tone tactful. “She would not want you to not have heirs to carry out your legacy.”

Lucius thought about it for a moment. He had fought so hard to get to where he was, staying alive despite the pain of his losses. Now that he was Caesar of Rome, he couldn’t let all his efforts go to waste and hand down the crown to just anyone. Especially knowing how easy it was for someone like Macrinus to try to seize control.

“I would be… open to having a meeting,” he began, but when Ravi’s face lit up, he lifted a hand again. “But that is no promise that things will progress beyond it.”

“Good enough for me,” Ravi said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know someone, a widower, just like you. She was one of my patients, in the past.”

“I leave it in your hands, then. Bring her for dinner.”

—————

Lucius had no expectations about meeting you. In truth, a part of him had been dreading it, not knowing how he was going to act.

But when he saw you at the atrium with Ravi, he stopped in his steps. Ravi introduced you and you curtsied, daintily holding out your hand so you may kiss his ring.

Lucius blinked at you, unaware he was staring until Ravi cleared his throat. Reacting, he gave you his hand and you bent your head to kiss it.

When you straightened, you shared a slightly amused look with Ravi, biting down a chuckle.

“It is a great honor to meet you, Imperator Lucius,” you said. “Thank you for allowing me into your home.”

“The honor is mine,” he said, inclining his head and smiling a little. “Please, come sit. Would you like wine? Something to snack on?”

“Well, I cannot very well decline anything our gracious host offers, can I, Ravi?” You said, following both of them to the triclinium.

“But of course, Lady,” Ravi said.

Lucius offered his hand to help you onto the lectus, a couch where you could recline while dining. You took it, holding the skirts of your dress as you sat. He took the one across from you and Ravi sat on the one between both of yours.

Lucius shared a look with Ravi, who raised an eyebrow. Stubborn, he pursed his lips, but one of the corners still lifted in a small smile. It was then that Ravi knew he had done a good job.

“So, I should like you to tell me about you,” Lucius said, leaning forward eagerly.

“What would you like to know?” You asked, taking a sip of wine and hoping your face wasn’t too flushed from his attention.

“Everything,” he said. “If that is not too much for a first meeting.”

You laughed and he realized he wouldn’t mind listening to it echoing through the halls of the palace more often.

“Let us make a bargain, then, if it is not too presumptuous of me,” you said. “If by sunrise you are not satisfied with all I have shared, then perhaps we may reconvene for another meal.”

He didn’t even have to think about it twice. “I’ll take that bargain, though I suspect your coming back won’t be from lack of satisfaction.”

————

[deadhands69]

Concert Date Headcanons

Sure, being a pro hero (or villain) keeps everyone busy but that doesn't mean you won't have some time for fun.

Here are some concert dates feat: Kyoka Jiro, Katsuki Bakugo, Hitoshi Shinso, Izuku Midoriya, Eijiro Kirishima, Denki Kaminari, Shouto Todoroki, Mina Ashido, Ochaco Uraraka, Rumi Usagiyama (Mirko), Touya Todoroki (Dabi), Shuichi Iguchi (Spinner), Tomura Shigaraki, Himiko Toga, Shota Aizawa

(a few of these feel like friend dates to me, some not so much - take them however you want to.)

Jiro

She's in the band. You're watching from side stage, she'll run over to give you quick kisses in the longer breaks between songs and makes faces/inside joke references to you.

You're probably seeing her band, but If it's not a show she's performing in she likely knows the other musicians so you're still watching from side stage.

Bakugo

You know those couples where one is completely wrapped around the other? That's him. He's standing behind you, arms locked around you. Contrary to what you think, he won't completely freak out if anyone bumps into you guys (maybe when he was younger but he’s been to enough shows by now to know what to expect.) However, if someone's being overly aggressive or creepy he'll definitely step in. He'd never say but he's as excited as you are to see your favorite band. 

What are you seeing? Metal. Screamo. The harder, the better.

Shinso

You're in the back of room. If you weren't there, his arms would be crossed in front of him. But, since you're there he'll hold your hand or wrap an arm around your shoulder.

What are you seeing? His musical tastes vary so it could be nearly anything. He likes when you pick though because it's cute when you're excited.

Midoriya

He knows allll the band lore, every song meaning, and has his own interpretations. He'll tell you all of this too. He doesn't just want to be in the front, no. He needs to be in front. You're leaving with three guitar pics and a set list. 

What are you seeing? Probably pop punk but he really likes some older bands too.

Kirishima

Need someone to lift you crowd surfing? That's Kiri. He'll also put you on his shoulders if you can't see. 

What are you seeing? Something tells me he likes dad rock.

Kaminari

Sure. you're in public and surrounded in people but he won't stop making out with you. You're that couple now.

What are you seeing? Who cares, you aren't paying attention. (sorry you spent so much on my chem tickets when you didn't even watch the show.)

Shouto Todoroki

He loves dancing. It's canon. Poor dude didn't even know what a concert was until he was a teenager, so he'd like to experience as much of this as possible. He probably still has a ton of questions and wants to stand/sit everywhere in the venue to figure out where he likes best. Until then, he'll follow your lead.

What are you seeing? Any music. Literally anything. You'll probably have to pick. He particularly likes bands with angry at your dad lyrics though.

Mina

She is also dancing, but a bit more skilled. She doesn't mind teaching you some moves though! 

What are you seeing? Anything you can move to. this includes interpretive dance, the two of you are not above dancing to classical or soundtrack music.

Ochaco

You're crowd surfing together, holding hands. It's cute.**

What are you seeing? Probably pop punk/indie pop. Maybe Beebadoobee or Jiro's band.

(**author's note: please don't actually do this - i tried this with a girl once and it's not as cute irl/doesn't work. with her quirk maybe it could though!)

Mirko

She just dragged you into the mosh pit. How does she still have so much energy after fighting villains all day?? She get's it though and is more than happy to pull you to another part of the crowd whenever you're tired or it's too much.

What are you seeing? Preferably riot grrrl music, but she'll see anything you can mosh to.

Dabi

He's also in the mosh pit. However, he probably dumped his jacket and all of his belongings off on you. But don't worry, in exchange for being his personal coat check he'll buy you a shirt after.

What are you seeing? Something hardcore, probably dad angst lyrics too.

Spinner

He's standing off to the side. He doesn't really want to be shoved, he just wants to drink his beer in peace and watch the show. Don't worry though, he's more than happy to be included. You can come and go as long as you check in, he's not clingy.

What are you seeing? Anything with a good beat.

Shigaraki

He's a little clingy. In a cute way though. You can go wherever, he'll follow. Crowds don't really bother him. He's probably not dancing/jumping/etc as much as you but he's still enjoying himself. Unless it's a show he specifically picked, there's a chance he's watching you more than the band.

What are you seeing? Whatever you want. Or ambient weird shit if you let him pick (Aphex Twin, SUNN 0))), etc.)

Toga

She is in front, jumping up and down excitedly. You had a countdown. You waited in line all day. Now you're here! Is she plotting how to bite the singer and take some of their blood? Absolutely. But she's having so much fun and she doesn't get to very often so please take care of her.

What are you seeing? Anything with a lot of energy! Probably Poppy.

Aizawa

Is there a balcony? Are there seats? Yeah, he's definitely finding them. You turn to ask him a question and wait, he fell asleep?? It's a metal show. How tf?

masterlist

[xoxochb]

hear me out….riding Leo’s thigh while he works on something in his workshop….maybe even reader coming to him in the mood and him telling them they’ll have to wait till he’s done👀

yesyesyesyesyesyes a billion thousand times yes!!!!

cw: swearing (duh, it’s me), thigh riding, leo is an ass tbh, anddd this wasn’t proof read

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

of course he’s busy working. it was no surprise to you that your boyfriend was busy working on a new invention— it seems to be one of the only activities he participates in throughout the entirety of his life.

and it frustrates you.

because ninety-nine percent of the time leo is to be found cooped up in his workshop doing something ‘important’ apparently. and you’re bored and you’re lonely and most of all you’re utterly lacking his touch. not only these, when you take your visits to the forges he seems to either not notice your presence, or know you’re there and chooses to work regardless if you’re there or not.

today, was a day you feel the second of three of the previous emotions. so when you made your way to his workshop, it was no surprise that his attention was being occupied by a metal contraption of some sort.

you sigh and cross your arms over your chest, walking to his desk where he works diligently. you wait for a moment for leo to notice you on your own before you realize he’s in a trance-like state and he will not.

you clear your throat, firstly. “what’re you up to?”

“workin’”

you nod slowly/understandingly. “cool…”

“do you need anything?” you get leo to look up to you. a slight smile giving away your emotions.

“just missed you.”

he pats his lap, beckoning for you to sit with him as he works. obediently, and happily, you do just that. you don’t settle for only this though, simply enough because you allow your longly untouched cunt to make decisions for you.

you delicately wrap your arms around his shoulders, and leaving his thigh between both of yours. you presume leo realizes what you’re thinking— fucking mind reader— as his thigh tenses beneath you, eliciting a strangled whine from your lips. what an asshole he is.

similarly, you steadily rock your hips to find friction. you feel leo tap your waist twice, an indication for you to continue as he won’t mind it. you’d prefer more though.

“leo, I—”

“I know, amor. gotta wait til I’m done.”

you let out another involuntary whine at this, attempting to quicken your pace to relieve your desires. you fist a handful of his shirt between your palms out of both anger and frustration, though those go hand-in-hand.

it infuriates you to know that while you’re suffering and tiring yourself out for nothing, your boyfriend gets to sit back and enjoy your suffering.

“please, leo…”

he only chuckles lightly and pecks your neck. the action both making you want to physically hurt him and a sudden wetness to pool in your panties. you’re sure he knows what he’s doing to you, that’s the worst part.

and you must say, waiting for him to finish was the most dreadful ten minutes of your life.

[something-wild-calls]

Got another combo part this time! It's pretty long, so I'll put it under a Read More.

Minor warning for a past injury mention!

Previous

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The first thing he noticed was the warmth of fur pressed against his neck.

Eyes closed, he rolled his head to the side, muttering to his little companion.

He felt a wave of unease.

It was never this hard to wake up. Well, maybe once or twice, but that thought did little to ease his worry.

He tried to lift his arm to gently usher the hot lump of fur off his neck. But his arm barely moved, and an ache pulsed up it. He tested other limbs, only to be met with the same resistance.

What had happened? What horrible state was his body in this time?

With all his might, he cracked his eyes open. His vision was blurry and tired, but he could instantly tell he was somewhere unfamiliar. All he saw above him was brown. ...Trees? ...Without leaves?

Or sky?

His head rolled again, and he realized that the surface it was on wasn't hard. Even if it was grass, there was no solid earth, nor the scratchy unpleasantness of dry straw. He focused to see what it was.

A...

Pillow?

A pillow...

He was in a building.

He doubted he'd gotten himself here. Surely he'd remember that.

So how...?

The dragon had claimed—

He gasped, a wave of clarity crashing over him.

The dragon...

The poachers...

The...

He shuddered, and that was enough to rouse Pari from her sleep. Her head lifted beside him, her pale purple eyes blinking into alertness.

She gave a trill when she saw Cody's own green gaze fixed warmly at her. She nuzzled him, and he groaned as his habitual attempt to pet her was met with the aching resistance once more.

“Pari...” His voice was slurred with the haze he was still struggling to break free from. “Wh-wh're we? A hsp'tal...?”

The pink imp opened her mouth, but at that moment, a knock rapped. Cody strained his gaze toward the sound, and managed to see a door open and a plump woman in an outfit walk in. Pari buried herself in his blankets.

The newcomer gasped when she saw him looking at her, but recovered quickly. “Why, hello! It's nice to see you awake!”

Cody blinked in a fruitless effort to adjust his eyes, attempting and aborting a wave. It was frustrating, having his body rebel against his wishes.

Please, voice, don't you fail me... “H...hi....” He took a deep breath, starting to feel a bit more energy return, though his voice was still weak. “I... I'm sorry... I d'n mean t'... be rude....”

The woman waved her hand, wrinkles accentuating her smile. “Don't you worry about it, dear! You were in horrible shape when you came in. Even with magical healing, it can still be hard to recover. I'm sure you're exhausted.”

At that, a new wave of alertness jolted through Cody. “Magical healing? D... did you guys heal me with magic?”

The woman nodded chipperly. “Mhm! To the best of our ability. Can I get you anything, Cody?”

“Water, please.” Suddenly, he flinched. “How'd you know my name?”

“Our chief's sister claimed that's what your name was.”

Cody thought for a moment, but he was still too drained to make sense of it. So for now, he smiled. “Well, she's right, however that is. I'm Cody Rennard.”

“It's nice to meet you, Cody. I'm Atta! Now then, I'll go get you that water.”

~ ~ ~

For the next while, Cody drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time he woke, he felt a bit stronger. Eventually he ate—A simple soup, but the most delicious thing he'd eaten in a long while.

At one point, noticing that his shoes had been removed, he studied his left foot where the wound should've been. A neat scar shone on the top of it where it had been stabbed through, and he marveled at how effective the healing had been.

What a skill to have...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"We also located a bag near where you were found, presumably yours." Cody pried his attention from the glaring girl to focus on the brown-haired man. "It's being safely kept at our place until you're in a good place to have it back."

The blond werewolf nodded with a smile. "Thank you!"

He couldn't help flicking his gaze back to Jamie, who stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on him.

As Cody tried to find words to speak about the prior events, Jordan gave the girl a soft nudge. "Come on, Jamie, you're freaking him out. Ease up a little."

She glanced at her brother, but otherwise did nothing else.

Clearly she still didn't like the idea of him being here...

Jordan looked at Cody, a hint of annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps we should go. I hope you feel back to normal swiftly, Cody. It's nice to meet you."

"Y-yeah!" Cody waved at them. "Thank you! Likewise!"

As the door clicked behind them, Cody couldn't help feeling just a bit hollow. There was so much he wanted to say. To ask. To learn.

He whispered more to himself than to the imp who scuttled up onto his lap. "That was the dragon, right? She had to be... She brought me to her home after all..." He looked at Pari. "I suppose you probably had a hand in that."

Pari shrugged, flicking her long tail. "She acted pretty quickly by herself. I don't think she was as eager to leave you on your own as we thought."

"...Huh..." He laid back on the bed, his little companion reclaiming her spot on his chest. "I wonder what her story is... An actual real dragon..."

He sighed, his mind swimming through pages of books he'd read over the years of these beings known only to legends.

"I can't say I blame her for being defensive... She's probably had it as bad as we have..."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Previous

[therealbeachfox]

r/NoStupidQuestions is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

u/RaddicalCon

"I mean, not something that's written down or printed out.

(Unless you're from my birth-family, in which case it's all written down, mostly in ancient books that stink of dry-rot and leather where Hench're called things like 'Servitors' and 'Beholden' and there's a lot of rules about which parts of the manor you're allowed to drag bodies through at what particular times of the day.)

Otherwise, it's not like there's a HenchCo HQ that puts together an employee dress code or anything. As with most things Hench-related in Gotham, it's all about unspoken rules and running tradition. Vibes, you know?

So here's some of those unwritten rules written down, because fuck the not-police.

A lot of bosses are going to have their own style and Hench-branding already in place. In this case, you wear what the Boss tells you to. Hopefully, they'll supply you the uniform so you don't have to go down to the army surplus and hunt for body armor in the exact right shade of purple or something. Be careful of any Boss who has you buy/rent your uniform with promises you get your money back when you return it. Gotham is hell on clothes regardless of who you are, and there's no way you're going to keep that uniform clean enough to be given your 'deposit' back. Fortunately, these sorts tend to be flash-in-the-pans. They usually wind up dead after they piss off one of the bigger fish, or they don't have anyone willing to bust their cheep-ass out after the first time their cheep ass gets locked up by the capes'n'cowls set.

Even if the Boss doesn't have specific uniform for their hench, they almost always have a certain theme/style of their own going on, and you'll want to play into that. When you join up, take a quick look around. If everyone's decked out in a certain style (jaunty green caps, black leather jackets, red shirts), it's probably a good guess you want to dress similarly if you don't want to draw the Boss' attention (It's almost never a good thing to have the Boss notice you as an individual as opposed to just One of the Minions).

Alright, so you found yourself hooked up with a crew where there doesn't seem to be any theming going on. Here's where the unspoken rules come in. You get to make your own outfit, but if you want to come across as a professional Hench, or at least one who knows what the fuck they're doing, you're going to wanna stick with the standards. These will depend on exactly what kind of outfit you've landed in.

Organized: 'This is a professional operation, boys, and we expect you all to look professional when on the clock.' You're working with one of the crime families, henching for Two-Face on Mr. Dent's side of the room, or fronting for Sionis because you're an unmitigated asshole or a raving idiot. Regardless, you're going to want to get yourself a nice suit. Nothing too fancy, you're not trying to imply you're as good (or rich) as one of the big players. Something off the rack at one of those Fancyish Clothes wholesalers should do you fine. Add a fedora or something if you need to keep your hair warm, consider growing a pencil mustache if you're able, or go for the classic full-eyelashes & red lips makeup if that's more your thing. You might even be able to get away with a trench-coat. Just keep it all either black, grey, or very subdued colors and you'll be fine. And make sure you know how to fight in them. There's nothing worse than watching some guy who can normally tear it up in a street fight get a knife to the gut because he wasn't used to the way tight slacks constrained his ability to throw a kick or leap out of the way of something.

Heavies: It's easy to tell if you're in one of these outfits. If you're spending all your time moving unlabeled crates from one place to another place, standing guard over nondescript warehouses and abandoned factories, or showing up in back alleys to clarify the boss' intentions to some hapless Gothemite, than you're in a Heavy crew. None of the excitement of the others, but you don't have to dress up for it. You're not in the 'Public Facing' part of the Boss' operations, so you don't have to worry about keeping on-theme or even wearing something without holes in it. Conrats. My main suggestion and the most popular getup for this gig? Cable-knit turtleneck and knit cap. Gotham nights are piss-cold nine months out of the year, and it's 9-10 odds you're going to be doing all your work after sundown. Steel-toed boots are also a must. Basically: good, durable, sout, able to handle roughness and keep you warm. Don't try and be cute and wear ugly christmas sweaters or multicolored patterned hats or anything. The only ones there to appreciate your kicking swag are going to be your coworkers (and who gives a shit what they think) or the Bats. Who're going to use the fact that you're distinctive to pick you out for the first to get face-punched. Not worth it.

Street: The Default level for Henching as a whole. Wear what you want. Something that'll keep you as warm and protected as you feel like keeping yourself that you're comfortable beating up assholes and getting your ass kicked in. Some form of tank-top/open-jacket combo is popular these days, as is the Tight Black T-Shirt and Ballcap getup. We're still not letting our freak-flag fly high, here. If you're Henching, the point is usually not to have the cops and everyone else immediately notice you when you walk down the street. If that is your purpose, the Boss probably already has uniforms prepped alongside the gas bombs and explosives. The only thing I wanna stress is to keep up on your laundry. Too many guys take the chill of this setup as an excuse not to keep up on that, and there is nothing worse than having to work with someone who stinks like month-old foot-mold and shit. You are not earning yourself a breakout out of Blackgate if you're putting your coworkers through that.

Wild: Okay, now you can let your freak-flag fly. This is what you want to go with if you're henching for Two-Face on Harvey's side of the room, or in one of those 'are we foot soldiers for a Rogue or are we a street gang?' situations. Let's be honest, you probably don't want to sign onto one of these unless you're comfortable blasting your brain chemistry to pieces on shit you've never even heard of before. In exchange, you can wear whatever the hell you like, so long as it's eye-catching. Combine your mesh tank-top, pink camo cargo pants, and an army-helmet with a dozen spikes, studs, and dyed feathers. Break out your midriff-baring leather jacket, fishnets, and combat boots. Take a trench-coat and wrap a street's worth of road signs around it. Drill elk antlers into a hockey mask and drop the whole thing into neon green paint. Just realize that if it's fragile, it's going to break in your first fight. And you will be in fights. Either against rival Rogues' crews, or with the Bats. Learn how to take a punch, and for the love of god learn how to stay down after you've taken that punch. The only thing getting up over and over again in a blood-frenzy will get you is an ever increasing stay in the ICU.

Of course, the easiest way to make sure you're wearing the right shit for Henchwork is to NOT DO IT.

I'm fucking serious, y'all. Just don't. If you want a snazzy uniform and an excuse to beat people up, join a private security company. If you want to fawn over an evil megalomaniac while furthering their plans for world domination, both Amazon and LexCorp have plenty of job openings. And if you just want to tear shit up for the hell of it, join a street gang. At least then the people by your side might actually give half-a-shit about you at the end of the day.

You can find more of my 'how not to be an idiot and die in Gotham' advice here if you're really in the mood for that.

And to answer the most frequent question: You can find piles of discontinued hench outfits at any Gotham thrift-shop. They've almost always got their own rack you can dig through to your weird little heart's content.

is there a style guide/dress code for gotham rogue henchmen out there somewhere

[kooksvspogues]

Happy 1st Birthday Liliana!! 🥳

Part 5 -

———————————————————————

I wake up the second I heard Lilian crying. I look to see what time it is, 6:34 a.m.. I slide out of bed and open the door to see if anybody has gotten up, so far nothing, so I go ahead and make my way to Lilian’s room, opening the door seeing her sat up in the crib rubbing her eyes and crying.

“Happy birthday sweetie pie” I say walking over to her, picking her up, her crying automatically dying down as she looks up at me before laying her head on my shoulder. I go ahead and take her over to her changing table, laying her down, unzipping her onesie enough to be able to pull her diaper off. “Goodness girl” I said in a funny voice as she smiled at me. I smiled back, grabbing another diaper sliding it on, and zipping her onesie back up.

I pick her up and head out her door to come face to face with Mack. “I figured it would be you” she smiled at me as I smiled back

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself” I admit

“No, you’re fine, I’ll show you where her formula and everything is and good morning birthday girl” she said leaning over and kissing Lilian on the forehead before pointing me towards the stairs.

“If you want, you can go back to bed for a bit, I don’t mind watching her” I tell her

“I may take you up on that” she grinned sleepily as we made it into the kitchen, opening up a cabinet door to reveal the bottles and cans of formula. She pulled one of each out and sat it on the bar before getting it all started. While we waited for the bottle to warm up, we just stood in a comfortable silence waiting.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Mack smiles, crossing her arms

“Yeah, you were right, they were fun to be around” I tell her

“Oh yeah, they’re a hoot” she laughs, “thinking about giving Austin a shot?” She asks

“We’ll see” I say grabbing the bottle out of her hand

“That’s better than a no” she remarks “I’m gonna go try to get another hour or so of sleep if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, go, I got her” I smile walking over to the couch taking a seat, before turning on the tv, trying to find a decent cartoon, settling for Scooby Doo.

Once Lilian finished her bottle and a few snacks, we got down on the floor to play. Mainly just working on her walking. That’s when the guest bedroom door opens up, revealing a shirtless Drew that’s wiping his eyes.

“The tv didn’t wake you up did it?” I ask quickly, startling him

“What? Oh no, I didn’t even know it was on” he said putting his hand on his hip looking over at me, smiling when he realized I had Lilian.

“Okay good” I smile

“You want something coffee?” He asks me

“Yes please” I plead as he smiles heading to the kitchen.

After a few minutes he walks back in the living room handing me a mug, “you like a little milk, sugar, and carmel vanilla flavoring right?” He asks as I look up at him with wide eyes

“Uh.. yeah.. how’d —“ I started

“We talked about coffee that night too” he said taking a seat on the floor about a foot away from me, leaning back against the couch.

“Wow.. thanks, that’s sweet” I admit giving him a smile

“Sorry if that’s weird” he defended

“No no, just shocking a guy can actually remember something” I say and he smiles

“When you have good company, you tend to remember everything, even the bad” he says taking a sip as I turn my attention back to Lilian, taking a sip, watching Lilian crawl her way over to me, right into my lap.

“She really loves you” Drew smiles

“Are you kidding? She loves her uncle Drew, don’t ya kiddo?” I say holding her up to him making her smile real big, Drew smiling just as big in return.

“I hope when I have a kid, they’re as easy as she is, she’s the best baby I’ve been around” he says letting her take hold of his pointer finger leading her over to his lap

“Yeah, she seems to be really easy, I wonder how long it’ll last” I laugh making Drew nod

“Why do y’all look like a married couple and Lilian is y’all’s kid” Logan says making me and Drew both jump at his voice

“You scared me!” I said looking at him

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just walked out, and there y’all were, talking and looking at each other like a married couple with a kid in your lap, it was kinda cute but you’re my future wife, so” Logan explains making me laugh

“You’re right” I say agreeing sarcastically

“What are y’all doing anyway?” He asked us

“Just watching scooby doo, talking, and hanging out with Lil’s, what are you doing?” Drew asks

“Wanting some of that coffee, is there any more?” Logan asks as Drew nods making him rush into the kitchen

“He scared the shit out of me” Drew said making me nod

“I was half way expecting him to be hungover” I admit

“He tends to be fine once he wakes up most of the time” Drew says and I smile

“Lucky us” I grin

“No kidding” Drew laughs as Logan walks back and joins us on the floor.

“You look good this morning” Logan says looking at me

“You too Logan” I tease back

“Oh I know, I always look good” he jokes making me smile

“Without a doubt” I sarcastically agree

Logan gives me a playful dirty look before turning his attention to Drew, “What time is mom getting here?” Logan asks

“I’m not sure, call her” Drew suggests

“Ehh, I’ll give her some time” he says brushing it off as me and Drew both shake our heads.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually, Mrs. Jodi finally arrived, immediately pushing her own boys out of the way to give me a hug before going to find Mack and Liliana.

“So even my mom likes you more than me” Logan rolls his eyes pushing me away playfully

“Don’t be jealous, I can’t help she loves me more” I joke, sticking my tongue out at both of them making Logan scoff while Drew just laughs.

We go back into the living room, Liliana sitting on the floor playing, now with Mrs. Jodi, while Mack is taking a break from decorating to talk to her mom for a bit. I go to take a seat on the couch which is quickly followed by Drew and Logan, Drew sitting in the middle.

“What do I need to do?” Mrs. Jodi asks Mack

“Nothing right now, got a few more things to put up, nothing major, and then it’ll be on to the food and getting all that set up, but that’ll be closer to time. Besides they have been a major help” she says motioning to us on the couch.

“Now Maddie, I believe, but your brothers, I’m not so sure” she teased

“For Liliana” Drew smiles as Logan agrees

“That makes more sense” she laughs looking at her two boys, “Maddie, how are you honey? Finally done with vet school?” She asks looking up at me

“Yes ma’am, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done but I believe it’s gonna be well worth it” I smile

“I know you’ll do great honey” she pats my knee before looking up at Drew with a look.. a look.. the look.. like she knows something… “boys, will you go get my bags out of the car and take them to my room” she asks then and they quickly get up and head towards the front door. “You have a little boyfriend yet?” Mrs. Jodi teases looking at me

“Oh no ma’am” I shrug

“Chase and Austin came over last night and Austin seemed to be VERY interested” Mack informs her

“Austin? Yea, he is a very sweet young man” Mrs. Jodi adds

“He’s okay” I somewhat agree with a slight smile

“Oh my gosh, just give him a chance, let the other guy go” Mack drags out

“Other guy?” Mrs. Jodi raises an eyebrow

“Maddie has been hung up on some random guy for years it feels like, and won’t give anybody else the time of day” she explains to her mom

“Well baby, you deserve the world, you’re an incredible young woman, and if you can’t allow yourself to be with somebody else, maybe finding this ‘random guy’ and trying to see what it could be, would be worth it for you” she says getting up to sit next to me on the couch.

“I can’t” I simply say

“What’s his name, I’ll do some stalking” Mack says, my eyes immediately going wide, shaking my head, “I’ll be right back, gonna get Lil’s some juice.” She says getting up and walking into the kitchen.

“Why do you feel like you can’t” Mrs. Jodi asks just as soon as Drew and Logan are walking through the house with her bags. Mine and Drew’s eyes meet for just a few seconds and when I look back over at Mrs. Jodi, I’m face to face with a knowing look.

“You know, don’t you?” I whisper, my face already getting red

“That you two snuck off, talked for hours, made out, and you ran off, yes ma’am I do” she smiles brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “When you came back downstairs, you were freaking out, just trying to get to your uber, you told me ‘I kissed Drew, I’m sorry, Mack’s gonna be pissed, I got to go, I love you” really quickly and ran out like you were in shock, then when I found Drew, he told me everything”

“Mack doesn’t know right?” I ask quickly with begging eyes

“If she does, it’s not from me, so is it him that you’ve been so hung up on?” she asks me

“Cause she can’t know, we have that pact, ya know? And yes ma’am…” I answer and she nods

“I truly believe that Mack wants you to be happy, regardless of who it is” she smiles at me and I shrug just as everyone comes back into the living room, “I know I’m all for having you officially in this family” she whispers to me just as Drew and I make eye contact again, feeling my heart skip a few beats as he takes the chair a few feet away from me, slightly smiling at me.

~~~~~~~~~~

Closer we got to 4, the more kids we had running around the house and more of the cleaning we did, felt like a waste of time. Parents were standing around outside watching as some of their kids were in the pool while others were drawing on the concrete with chalk.

I was able to meet quite a few of Mack and Garrett’s friends that I haven’t got to meet, along with a few of the friends I met at their wedding. But, no matter what I was, Drew stayed within 3 feet of me at all times. His excuse was, “you may feel overwhelmed and if I can help, I want to” which was just another thing he was proving that he remembered about me saying that night; how I hated meeting lots of new people at one time and being the odd man out, but in this case, it’s all for Liliana.

Finally, after everyone has made their rounds on introducing each other, it feels a look like stressful. I was sitting on the side of the pool next to Logan, our feet in the water, just watching the kids, waiting for Drew to bring us a drink.

“You know when you move back, I get a key to your place” he says with full confidence making me laugh

“We’ll see buddy” I laugh

“It’d be for emergencies” he clarifies

“Anything is an emergency to you, especially if you can’t get your answer within 5 seconds” I point out

“Exactly, emergency” he says grinning making me shake my head.

“here’s your Dr. Peppers” Drew says handing us one before taking his seat back on the other side of me slipping his feet back in the pool.

“Drew, shouldn’t Maddie give me a key to her place for emergencies?” Logan asks making me throw my head back in light laughter

“You ain’t even got a key to my place, why do you need a key to hers?” Drew asks looking at him

“Incase something happens” he explains

“I can handle myself” I argue

“And if she needs anybody, she can call us, we’ll answer” Drew adds giving me a smile which I return

“If you’re just saying that cause you want to come see me at any time, just knock, I may or may not let you in” I giggle nudging his arm making Logan roll his eyes.

“See.. that’s just rude” he said making me and Drew laugh

After a while of just talking and laughing, Mack hollered for everyone to come sing happy birthday to our sweet Liliana. Mack brought out the cake for Lils while Garrett brought out the cake for everyone else. As soon as Mack sat the cake down on the high chair table, Liliana was already tearing it up making us all laugh, trying to get her to hold out for the song. But the moment she got her chance, she was back at it, getting startled when all the kids screamed happy birthday at the top of their lungs.

“Okay! Who wants cake!” Garrett yells and everyone comes flying up to him waiting for their slice.

Mack, Mrs. Jodi, and I were all just in awe of Liliana and trying to capture every moment of her with her first cake. I felt a hand placed lightly on my back, making me look back quickly, only to see Drew.

“I got you a slice” he smiles down at me

“Well thank you” I smile back, snapping a few more pictures before grabbing my plate from him, “she’s so cute” I tell him

“It’s the Starkey genes, I’m telling ya” he said making me smile

“I can’t even argue with that” I shrug

“Ohhh, so you think I’m cute?” He whispers

“Don’t get such a big head” I tease nudging my elbow into his side lightly making him laugh

“You said it, not me” he says

“Technically, you did” I point out making him think back of what he just said

“Shut up” he jokes, laughing, nudging me with his elbow, “you ready to go out tonight?” He asks me

“Yeah, I guess so, I ain’t been out to a bar in a while” I answer

“Mack said you were always the life of the party when y’all were in college together” He says

“Yeah, I was everywhere, always dancing, always finding a new adventure” I chuckle

“What kind of dancing to you do?” He asks

“Really any, but was always a sucker for some line dancing, went out when I first moved to Florida, found a great dancing partner, but then as classes got harder, I never went.” I explain and he nods

“Well maybe you’ll find a new dancing partner tonight” he smiles at me we lock eyes

“Yea, maybe so” I smile, putting my attention on the kids instead.

Once everyone got done eating, it was time for presents. By the time the last present was open, it felt like we were in a target aisle, there was so many toys. Some of the toys were opened and already being played with some most of them, were moved into the house for later.

“Can we fill these up please?” A little boy, that I’m pretty sure his name was Tyler, asked me holding a bag of water balloons. I glanced over at Drew and he nodded

“Cmon buddy, we’ll help you” Drew said taking his empty hand and leading the way to the faucet. I couldn’t help the feeling I got in my stomach watching him lead the happy little boy.

“Can you go find us a bucket please?” Tyler asked me

“Of course” I smile turning to go find something, that’s when my eyes land on the kiddie pool leaned up against the house in the corner. I go to grab it an drag it back over to the opposite corner of the yard, right where Drew and Tyler were waiting.

“Get her!” Drew yells before they both throw a water balloon at me, immediately busting the second they meet my body.

“Drew!” I yell

“It was his idea!” Tyler defended pointing at Drew making me laugh

“I know honey, but I’m gonna get bath of yall back” I tease

“I knew it was a bad idea” tyler said scratching his head nervously

“I’d love to see you try” Drew says winking at me as I put my hands on my hood

“Fill em up Starkey” I say pushing his head to face the faucet.

Once he gets majority of the bag done, I lean down and grab a ballon, looking at Tyler, putting my finger over my lips making him smile. I put the balloon right over Drew’s head and squeeze it tightly until it bust and soaks his hair and his shoulders.

“Maddie…” he says grabbing a few balloons as I start to walk backwards, taking off into a sprint as he stands up coming after me.

“WATER BALLOON FIGHT!” I hear Tyler yell as loud as he can, grabbing a few out of the pool and throwing it, making everyone laugh and cheer as they go to grab some.

“You threw one at me, what’s wrong with me doing it back” I yell back at Drew laughing as I feel another busted ballon by my feet, “ha ha, your ouuut” I say slowing down and turning towards him, “truce?” I ask as I feel somebody quickly slip a ballon in my hand that’s behind my back

“Truce” he says throwing his hands up coming closer slowly, “show me your hands”

I start to grin and quickly throw the water ballon towards him, landing on his chest. But just as fast as I turn to run away, I feel my body being picked up and immediately going into the pool. When we come back to the surface, we’re laughing, splashing water, and pushing each other away playfully.

“Truce?” He asks me holding out his hand

“For now, Yeah” I smile slapping my hand into his

“For now?” He teases

“Never know when I may need to throw another at you” I wink before pulling myself out of the pool, being thankful I did put on a swimsuit under my clothes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once everything died down and everyone left, it was about 7:30. So, Mrs. Jodi told all of us to go get showers and get ready, that she had everything else handled.

I went to my room to got a quick shower. Blow drying and curling my hair afterwards. I decided on wearing my other pair of blue jean shorts, with a white cropped tank top, and a bluish green button up, with my cowboy boots.

“It’s me!” Mack yells knocking on my door before walking in, wearing some jeans and a strapless cropped tank top, “well you look cute” she says eyeballing me

“So do youuuu, do you think I should lose the boots or wear pants instead?” I ask her

“No, show Austin what them boots make you do, we’re going to the bar we used to always go to, so I know you’ll put those boots to work” she winked and I laughed, shaking my head, putting my other earring in.

“You ready?” She asks

“Yes ma’am” I say grabbing my phone, license, and some cash before following her downstairs where the boys are waiting. Drew was in black jeans, white tank top, and a short sleeve button up, the color very similar to the one I’m wearing.

“Y’all are almost twinning?” Mack laughs pointing it out as we just shrugged it off before piling up into Garrett’s truck. Leaving me in the middle between Drew and Logan.

“You look good” Drew whispers, smiling at me.

“Thanks, you too” I smile

“Chase and Austin are still meeting us there right?” Mack asks Drew

“Yeah, as far as I know” he answers

“Great, cause I can’t wait for all of y’all to see Maddie in this kind of environment. Especially Austin” she says as I look down, feeling Drew’s eyes on me.

Tonight is gonna be interesting..

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