#samira x reader

[nyctophiliq]

✮ — MOMMY OR DADDY? ; sevika, renata glasc, cassandra, ambessa, grayson, vayne, samira

minors dni; afab reader. nsfw ! — lowercase writing intended, suggestive themes, mommy and daddy kink,

moss' notes; you might not see eye to eye with my headcanons or characteristics that i defined as being more mommy or more daddy, but please enjoy this nonetheless!

first laying some grounds for the criteria of what i define or use as characteristics for deciding who is more mommy and who is more daddy. THIS FIC IS NOT ABOUT ROLE PLAY, IT'S ABOUT THE KINK !

— MOMMY

mommies are more nurturing, they utter kind words to cherish, care for and protect you, help or courage whatever your dreams or goals are. they are good at telling you how they feel, and although they might take some convincing to do so, they are open about their feelings so the two of you can work any problems or discomfort out quickly and as effectively as possible. they are protective like a mother figure, they don't just protect you from physical harm with their words but would rather lie for you than have you in any conflict. she often tries to take interest in your interest, maybe look after it, and suggests making time with her regarding that interest. they are so affectionate you might get sick of them, and they express their emotion overbearingly which might cause you to think they are being clingy and overshooting the point of validation.

— DADDY

daddies have a harder time expressing their emotions, either because they are closed off or are afraid they won't appear as strong in your eyes as they originally deemed you see them. they would rather see you in jail as a cause of teaching you a lesson than have you get away with murder. they are protective like a father figure, and they use physical force if they need to so to not see you harmed. they rather show their feelings through physical touch rather than uttering sweet words to you out loud. she often shows you her current hyper fixation, trying to rope you into the loop of it and convince you to make plans with her while she had already had you confined to a chair just doing that. they might seem distant because of their lack of showing their emotions and you might rule them ignorant, cold, and uncaring of how you are but that is not true! they care about you deeply, they just have a hard time verbalizing it.

— sevika ˖⁠♡

sevika is a person who won���t hesitate to kill anyone for you and then ask for a reward, say that you should thank her in whatever way you see fit. she strings you along like a puppet to get you wherever she wants you, and persuade you to do things with her or for her. she won’t cross a line, that is something you can be certain about, but she will say some words that you might not all favor. she acts daddy, with all her aggressive words and moves, walking tall and proud, ready to give out some slaps to keep those around her in place. behind closed doors, she is less demanding and less of a “tough guy” but still not enough to give in to her gentle emotions and rant about how much she loves you. she is a person who picks a play time partner by how fun it will be, that she gets the most out of it but not with you, not anymore, she is ready to settle just doesn’t know how. call her daddy, she will like it! she will be even more proud of herself, hearing you call her such a thing gives her a newer perspective and opens up the vulnerable side of her knowing that you trust her like this.

“got ya a pretty present, princess! it’s your favorite, i went through real trouble to get it so you gotta thank it later, alright? come with me to that game i told ya about?”

— cassandra ˖⁠♡

she is a true mommy, the fittest of them all, if not for being a mom already, then because she would have a feel for being it. she carries herself around with not only presitge but with the kind of gaze that you know she cares about those who are around her. the councilwoman will pay extra attention to whatever interests you and share some of her tips for saving money so you can do more of your hobby. she won’t be too explicit about her affection towards you out in public, but behind closed doors she utters the most beautiful of compliments, calls you her sweetest girl, that no wealth can compare to you. cassandra will need a little time to warm up to the idea of being a mommy in a sexual context and that it means that she takes care of you in a different kind of sense rather than the usual mom duties.

“my sweetest girl, surely there is non i can help you with right now? say to word and i am taking you home, you don’t really have to be around here if you don’t like. i take you home, we have lunch, play a little maybe, or just sit around, hm?”

— renata glasc ˖⁠♡

renata is the perfect definition of a mommy, without a question. she has the means to support you financially, the power and influence to help you reach your wildest dreams. she loves spoiling you, be it your favorite food, snack, or something you have wanted and just mentioned to her that you planned to buy it. she likes checking in on you if not hourly, either she appears or one of her most trusted fellows, making sure you are well and content. this might sound possessive and it is, but she is just so terrified of something happening to you while she is not there, she would rather hear you complain than not hear you at all. she might be a little closed off, a tad bit embarrassed about how she has a liking for being called mommy but that shouldn’t stop you from calling her that, she will click into the rhythm very soon and will call herself mommy, playing along.

“have you had a good day? my day was like usual, work towering high but i got you something because i knew my darling would be very fond of it. go ahead… open up, don’t make me wait too long.”

— ambessa ˖⁠♡

ambessa rather punch a hole through a wall, start another war, or begin her angered rant about some fool that tried to wife her before talking about her truest feelings. there are no such things as emotions in front of her people, she is a warlord, and she is supposed to be scary rather than scared. she is fearless, a true warrior, and a really hard nut to crack- ambessa is the perfect definition of a daddy. while she adores the title of being a daddy to you, but she would much appreciate it if you’d address her as mistress or warlord, but she is fit for a daddy whenever you feel like calling her one. she can be cruel sometimes, making you practice the sort of skills of survival that piltover no longer sees necessary, shedding blood and coerce you into taking a life, prove her if it comes to it you can protect yourself. ambessa can’t admit out loud that she is starved for being touched and so she sometimes can go overboard with physical attention, just give her a hug out of the blue and she will be thinking about it for the rest of her life.

“is there anything you don’t do for me, my girl?

— grayson ˖⁠♡

grayson’s shell radiates the typical daddy vibes, a person who is afraid to commit to their feelings and would rather gift you something than tell you how much she loves you. but grayson isn’t really a daddy, she is a mommy without a doubt. she is very protective of you, and would risk her job even if you think that’s silly, she would lie instead of seeing you behind bars, and not without reason. she might not be the wealthiest person, being an enforcer isn’t the highest-paying job, but her connections can help you to climb some ladders if needed. grayson has never been a mom, the closest she got was maybe training caitlyn and when you call her mommy for the first time it’s just something she gets drunk off of and becomes a little addicted. she is overbearingly loving, can’t stop calling you sweet pet names and tell you how pretty you are, how she can’t get over the fact that she finally can settle down and not be afraid of taking a bigger step in her life alone.

“dearest of mine, i am sorry for being late, but this job… thankfully i am staying home, like it or not. what about if we go around the city, visit your favorite café for an afternoon sweet?”

— vayne ˖⁠♡

shauna needed no introduction to the name calling, although she started out calling herself daddy which is very understandable. she is closed off, not at all willing to let anyone be emotionally close to her due to her fear of them being taken away once again. she does appear to be on the daddy side because of her need for vengeance, the way she fights, talks, and lives her everyday life but soon will grow into the more mommy side of her personality. shauna will always be a mommy, she just needs a little more time to really appreciate being called one. with the space left for her she will be more open, now you won’t need to use those clues you picked up along the way to understand how she is feeling because she will tell you herself how she feels.

“my moon, the night is still not clear of the demons but i will never let them take you, i would never ever let that happen. if it means that i have to give up hunting them, then be it, as long as i can keep you safe.”

— samira ˖⁠♡

samira is the person who if caught in the right moment can be very open about her feelings and won’t shut you out or shut down as soon as she realizes she is getting weaker and weaker with each word she utters. her appearance, her strong frame, the clothes she wears, and the way she talks all scream mommy. being called mommy would be a new thing for her, she had never really thought about this kind of thing, but then not a lot stayed with her as long as you have. samira might be a fighter, a woman who brings both a gun and a sword to a fight, spreading herself thing but don’t forget about her just because she looks so put together, mommies can hide their emotions well.

“habib albi, my sword is not a pretty toy to play with, at least not like this! you are gonna cut yourself, can’t have you bleeding my pretty girl. gotta keep you safe, okay?”

tag list ; @mxyx-rx444 @darlingmisa @einrosa @sevikasangel @nopealoupe @pixiegirlz @gonegonethankyouuu @xthescarletbitch @orang3-ish @bigboobslilheart

[ma1dmer]

League of Legends - Samira NSFW

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): not the best at aftercare, she is very likely to leave you the second you two are done for a job or something, nothing personal, she’ll kiss your cheek and lips and promise to be back as soon as she can

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): she loves watching you two together, wants to prop up a mirror so she can properly watch your body react to her, wants to trail her nails down your stomach and watch you shiver ,wants to see the way your eyes roll to the back of your head when she puts her fingers to work , she’ll coo and moan in your ear about how gorgeous you look together and tell you to keep your eyes on her the entire time otherwise she will stop (she won't)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): likes tasting herself on your lips when you two make out

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): kind of a masochist, she likes the feeling of your nails digging into her back when she pleasures you and likes when you bite down hard enough to leave a mark, she'll definitely show all of these little marks off to others

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): she has a lot of experience and likes to be challenged on it just so she can prove you wrong, to show off how skilled she is at making you become putty for her 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): against a wall, she wants to either wrap herself around you as you hold her up, or show off her strength by slamming you against the wall herself

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): she is very playful, a lot of cheesy pick up lines during foreplay to lighten up the mood

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): she likes to trim everything but a small patch above her slit 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): she can be very romantic before and/or after, but during sex she feels like it just ruins the moment, sex for her is something more casual or transactional,its all about pleasure, that being said she is very passionate and can definitely make you blush if you ask her to be more romantic with you

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): would prefer to have company rather than taking care of things herself, will avoid jacking off and gets extremely cranky if she doesn't get laid

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): sadomasochism, mirror sex, exhibitionism etc

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): she doesn’t have much shame, she’ll pull you just about everywhere if you are comfortable, definitely the type to ask someone walking in on you to stay for the show or join in, probably has a bucket list of the places she's thought of taking you, double entendre 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): she likes being wanted, wants you to show her exactly how much she affects you ,she'll tease you about it ,but won't leave you hanging, she is also very into victory sex, every good job is a reason to celebrate with the coin she acquired and later with you in her bed 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): not much she wouldn't try out at least once

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): loves wrapping her thighs around your head and simply using you like that, grinding against your tongue until you tap out 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): fast and rough, she wants to be slapped or wants to choke you, its always a power struggle for her

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): loves them, in the shadowed corners of a shady bar, or in some alley , she's always pulling you with a giggle and mischief in her eye

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): loves trying out new things to keep your sex life interesting

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): its often that you don't see her for weeks, just disappearing randomly ,so whenever you two do spend time together she'll make sure to thoroughly wreck you ,both to satiate her needs after being away for so long, and to make sure you remember how good she is to you for the next time she leaves

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): she doesn’t see the reason for them personally, but she does make a point of telling you to think of her when you use them

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): a big tease, she’ll run her fingers up and down her glass, dipping her fingers in the cup with obvious implication or she'll purr into your ear about how she'll have you crawling for her later, its a game and she is definitely winning

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): she likes hearing herself as much as she likes hearing you, loud and isn't shy about being heard

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): loves some gun and knife play to spice things up, will hold a blade againgst your throat as she grinds herself against your thigh pointedly avoiding touching you where you need her the most

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): she has a high libido a lot of energy and a lot of cockiness, its an explosive cocktail

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): she’ll quietly slip into your room long after you’ve fallen asleep and after she finished her work and silently let herself into your bed 

[duckchu]

So, how about Space Groove versions of Nami, Samira and Lissandra with kind but sassy S/O?

Behold, the only non Heartsteel request so far (I don't mind them, but I'd also like to write for other universes) also Space Groove is like one of my favourite skinlines I love it so much

And the theme slaps

These are short but sweet

Couldn't find a nami or lissandra gif sorry

Samira

She already has one nuisance to take care of (Lux)

So she's glad you don't tend to get yourself into much trouble

Usually

But if you do, you can bet she's enjoying the hell out of it

Loves when you sass her out

You have both style and flare just like her!

Loves you for it

But if someone mistakes your kindness for weakness...

Nami

Loves how kind you can be

But also how you always know what to say if someone's rude

Really enjoys when you get protective of her

After all, she is the best mermaid singer in the galaxy

Will sing for you after as a thanks

Lissandra

Thinks you will be the perfect ruler of the galaxy with her

Though she doesn't want you spreading bad vibes

You're too precious for that.

Even though your sass is amusing

She loves watching you sass out the people who underestimate you for your kindness

You're really perfect for her

[rafediaries]

a couple little angsty thoughts jumbling around in my mind about rafe and reader who's sarah's best friend who's a pogue

knowing each other since childhood, when her dad worked for the camerons and her immediately becoming best friends to sarah when she needs to come with him to tannyhill one day. the words 'kook' and 'pogue' don't exist to them yet, just that unconditional love that kids have, summers spent waiting for sea turtle hatches on the beach and eating popsicles over the kitchen sink of the cameron house, cherry-flavored juice all over their clothes

sarah and reader are best friends, attached at the hip, but rafe is always there, a constant memory of her childhood. he's the one to patch her scrape knees, to threaten the older boys that tease her, to help her and sarah catch fireflies. he mediates their childish no-longer-than-2-hours friendship breakups. a look of exasperation on his face that reader knows is only surface level.

and she's there for him too. she sees the best in him, a version of him he can't really understand, but one that makes him want to be better. she's one of the only people he feels completely open with.

but they grow up, seasons change, and rafe learns what it is to be a kook and what it means for her to be a pogue. at first, she's sheltered from his resentment for her friends, at first she accepts his apologies, his half-hearted 'it's different, you're not like them', but eventually that isn't enough for her. and it breaks her heart to see the boy who she grew up with, the boy who always protected her, being the person who she needs to protect her loved ones from.

they drift apart, messages only exchanged on birthdays, barely speaking at the parties sarah drags her to. he's in too deep and she can't find the boy she used to love. she wants him to change but she won't wait for him to

and then what happens during the show, his actions in season 1 and season 2, completely breaks her heart. she's scared. there's a boy in front of her, with rafe's face and rafe's voice, but he's not rafe. not her rafe. and she stops giving him the benefit of the doubt, icing him out the same way sarah and the rest of the pogues have. he's disappointed her one too many times.

and then season 4 happens, and he's different now. off the drugs, more responsible, sobered by the death of his father and the loss of his family. and he's making amends, to sarah, to himself, trying to make them to her.

he figures it would be easy. she's forgiven him so many times in the past, for getting high, for blowing his cash, for the stupid and rude things he says. but she's cold to him now, distrust piercing her heart, and it forces him to reckon with who he is, what he's done, and how far he'll go for her forgiveness. how much she means to him, has always meant to him.

[sevikasangel]

❥ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 • general hcs of the ladies using a vibrator on their s.o.

including: vi, sevika, renata, samira, cassandra

— contains: f!reader, mature content, dom/sub undertones, mistress kink, teasing, bondage, use of toys, hints of dub!con, very slight degrading kink, praising kink, lowercase intended.

— a/n: hi guys! i missed posting here so much. i hope you remember me :) it's good to be back. also, this isn't proof read, so excuse any grammar mistakes. love y'all.

𝐕𝐈 ♡

— vi wasn't particularly fond of the idea of toys. your pink haired girlfriend would refer to them as a replacement for the real thing. she was confident that no toy would be able to make you cum as nicely as she did.

— the game changed when she got home from an obnoxiously difficult chase all around zaun. sweat was dripping from her forehead, knuckles busted and bloodied from beating someone else's face to a pulp. she bursted into your shared bedroom, ready to just pounce on you, needing the comfort of your embrace.

— "fuck, cupcake. fucking shit! i am so done, just need yo- the fuck you're doing, huh?"

— the sight of your spread legs and juicy pussy while you fucked yourself with a purple vibrator was not what vi expected to see. your breath was ragged and frantic as you rode the toy like your life depended on it. vi could tell you were close to cumming.

— "vi...vi...need you, vi..."

— your girlfriend shakes her initial shock away with a huff and a side smirk. she chuckles and you feel the mattress dip with her weight and suddenly she's on top of you, her thigh between your legs, applying more pressure to the vibrator, keeping it still and steady as it buzzed inside your walls.

— "such a naughty girl you are, cupcake...you couldn't wait for me, could you? see...since you want to replace me with plastic, i can put it to good use on you, hmm? no, no...shhh. you wanted to cum, right? you'll be cumming all night long..."

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 ♡

— sevika's first time trying out a vibrator with you was for punishment. she felt like you were acting out way too much and she needed to fix your little attitude problem.

— "you are fucking up for my attention, aren't you, (y/n)? fine. since you wanna be a little bitch, come here. i am gambling tonight and you are coming with me, sitting on my lap all night long, getting all attention you need. sounds good to you, princess?"

— sevika had an evil gleam behind her eyes and you could feel yourself shivering. perhaps purposely getting on her nerves wasn't a good idea. you gulped and nodded your head.

— before you both leave the house, she abruptly pulls up your skirt and slips her hand under your panties, her mechanical hand groping your tits as she puts her mouth against your ear, chuckling lowly. you whimper as you feel her fingers roughly toying with your clit.

— "you wanted to be a slut so bad, huh? of course, you're such a dumb brat. you're gonna be squirming on my fucking lap all night long, how does that sound? hmm? good? i don't care if you want it or not. let's see if you can keep quiet while my little toy keeps your little pussy entertained. can you imagine, brat? all those eyes on you...being on my lap like my good little pet...cumming, and cumming, and cumming...all over again..."

— as she spoke, sevika slid a bullet vibrator in your panties, feeling sadistic pleasure in how much you squirmed and whimpered. your eyes were wide, pupils dilated as you anticipated the upcoming night.

— "maybe if you behave, i will fuck you rough and good when we come back. now...compose yourself and let's go."

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐀 ♡

— ms glasc is a giver, as she herself puts it. her pet knows better than anybody else the true generosity of renata glasc. however, her generosity might be one sided...and to put it: torturous.

— renata was working from home at her office and you craved her attention. you could tell by her seemingly short tempered state that renata was irritated and had pent up tension crawling through her every nerve.

— to further her annoyance, you walked into her office for the third time to ask her to come up to your bedroom. you felt needy and all you could think about was the physical attention of your mistress. she put her paperwork down and glared at you like her pink eyes could swallow you whole. it made you clench your thighs, knowing that look better than anybody.

— "greedy little pet wants mistress' attention so badly she can't wait a fucking minute. i told you i am busy and here you are...no, quiet. i didn't say you could speak, now did i? come here. you know i am so generous, darling...come, come sit on my lap."

— you didn't hesitate to obey and skipped to her, sitting on her strong thighs. renata pulled a yelp out of you as she suddenly used one of her hands to spread your thighs, making you straddle one of her thighs.

— "no underwear? hahahaha. is this all you can think about, getting reduced to my little slave toy? is that it? good little pet. now...let's attend your needs, shall we?"

— her hand quickly undid her tie and pulled it out of her neck. she used it to secure your hands tightly behind your back.

— renata pulled down her mask and kissed you on the lips, her hands grabbing your waist, squeezing tightly as her tongue took dominance over yours. you pathetically bucked your hips, attempting to get some friction from the fabric of her fancy pants. once you were out of breath and whimpering like a pathetic slut, she broke the kiss and reached over the drawer, opening it to get the wand vibrator she kept just for you.

— "you like what you see, pet? i know you do. just look at you...hahahaha. you hear it, darling? only the sound of my little toy makes you try to clench your thighs like the little slut you are. you know i love it. i barely fucking touched you and you are already soaking wet. tsk tsk tsk."

— she then pressed it tightly against your clit, the highest setting sending you over the edge as you began moaning and rolling your hips, your whole body shivering and trembling. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as everything was too much...her smell, the intensity of the toy, her lips and tongue all over your neck, the heat of her thigh beneath your core...

— "keep quiet. this is what you wanted. do not he ungrateful to your mistress! you wanted me to pleasure you. you wanted to cum. so you will cum...you will cum, in fact, until i finish my paperwork. now now, enjoy the ride, darling."

𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀 ♡

— samira was experimental when it came down to intimacies. she was a well travelled bounty hunter and sometimes she'd bring some of her findings to test out in the bedroom with you. in one of her trips around noxus, she found a new magic wand vibrator being sold at a small shop. of course she had to take it home.

— you were in bed with samira on top of you, her hands everywhere on your body as you moaned into her mouth. you've missed her so much and suddenly your wish of killing your lover for disappearing again was gone. all you wanted and needed was her.

— "now, darlin'...ya see there's no need to be mad at me, i always come back home, had to leave in the middle of the night cause duty calls, babe. oh, it was a fifty thousand bounty, it'll be good for us! c'me on, ya know ya can't resist me."

— samira was invested in making you feel good and less mad at her. she went down on you, using her sinful mouth to devour you as nobody could ever do to you. it brought her immense satisfaction to watch you moan and ride her face, chasing your release desperately. she could always make you have mind-blowing orgasms from this.

— "i bought ya a lil somethin', hope ya ain't tired yet, wanna be with ya all night long. i gotta compensate my absence last night, honey."

— when she showed you the vibrator, you bit your bottom lip and whined, begging her to make you feel good. samira licked her lips and positioned herself between your thighs once again.

— "c'me on...my little slut. do ya want this? then spread ya fuckin' legs for me. good girl. now beg for it."

— once samira was satisfied with all your neediness and begging, she chuckled and pressed the head of the wand against your core, doing circular movements, making you feel the vibrations all over. you moaned and arched your back, mouth open as a string of drawn out whimpers and cries fell. you were so sensitive with her previous actions and now this...it was pleasingly too much.

— just as you felt as it couldn't get any more overwhelming, samira stilled the vibrator, keeping it right against your clit as her skilful fingers slid into your dripping pussy, fucking you fast and hard. she laughed out loud as you nearly became undone beneath her, screaming and trying to unconsciously squirm away. "please", "samira", "i am gonna cum", were the only words your brain was capable of forming.

— "awww, ya gonna cum so fast, are ya? told ya, sweets...ya can't stay mad at me, nobody's ever gonna give ya a good fuckin' like i do. your body is mine. ya are mine. all fuckin' mine..."

𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 ♡

— cassandra is an elegant woman. she is known for her perfect and schooled posture under any situation. that particular trait turned her into the most cruel tease when she desired to.

— she's had a stressful day at the council and an evening filled with pointless meetings when all she wanted was to come home to her lover. as she finally walked into the bedroom, she offered you a gentle smile as you were laying in bed, waiting for her.

— "oh, hello, my darling. how was your day? good, good. mine? well, tiring. i couldn't wait to come home. i missed you. come, give me a kiss...oh...help me relax, you say? what will you do? ah, anything i want! well, i know something i want..."

— cassandra had you completely stripped for her. your hands were tied to the headboard and your feet were tied spread on the posts. you flustered as this position made you completely exposed to her, your eyes trembling a bit from the shame. the older woman grinned and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

— "you are so gorgeous. i will be watching you, kitten. you are such a good pet...always so willing to please. i will reward you properly."

— you sucked in a breath when you felt the head of the wand vibrator pressed against your folds. cassandra then pulled out her scarf and used it to secure the toy around your thigh. then her slender, gloved fingers came to spread your lips, adjusting it so it was right against your clit. the cold breeze fanning your core was enough to pull a needy whimper out of you.

— "let's turn it on, kitten. you like it, i know you do. that's it, there you go. should we put it on high? no? that's too bad. oooh, there you go. look at you...you can squirm all you want, you can't escape those vibrations, getting your little pussy all wet and ready for mistress."

— cassandra likes sitting on her chair from across the room, drinking her wine as she watches you beg and cum over and over again. her little smirk, dark eyes and dominant presence turns everything worse for you. if you are lucky enough, she'll show you some mercy and join you once she finishes.

[grazi-ottsk]

⊱┈──── ✦ ───── ✦ ────┈⊰

𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺! 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘪!

𝘈𝘴 𝘢 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘰𝘳 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 :(

𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳.

𝘈𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴, 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘐𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭. (𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘰)

𝘚𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 ��𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤/𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 (𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘴: 𝘕𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵).

(𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦).

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘓𝘦𝘢𝘨𝘶𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴/𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯/𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘌𝘷𝘪𝘭, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴:

𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:

𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐬

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

𝐉𝐡𝐢𝐧

𝐊𝐚𝐲𝐧

𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭

𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐧

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐚𝐬

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧

𝐙𝐞𝐝

𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬:

𝐀𝐡𝐫𝐢

𝐀𝐤𝐚𝐥𝐢

𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚

𝐅𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐚

𝐈𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚

𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐱

𝐊𝐚𝐢'𝐒𝐚

𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞

𝐑𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧

𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐚

𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭:

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨

𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐨

𝐀𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦

𝐂𝐲𝐧𝐨

𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜

𝐊𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐚

𝐍𝐞𝐮𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐚

𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚

𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭:

𝐀𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐚

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐧

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮

𝐘𝐚𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞

𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐮

𝐌𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥:

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲

𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐖𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥:

𝐀𝐝𝐚 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐠

𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦

𝐉𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦... 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 :) (𝘰𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴/𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳...)

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter one

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a small town somewhere in beautiful greece, early morning coffee runs, and the cute boy that you keep running into. (4.8k)

warnings: sort of shy!reader, a bit of swearing, lando being both smooth and a little awkward

a/n: series masterlist coming soon :)

“That guy is totally checking you out.” 

You reluctantly drag your attention away from the truly addicting pasta you’d ordered to meet your friend’s gaze across the table, slightly suspicious, but also a little curious as to what she’s talking about.

Samira is grinning knowingly at you already, mischievously, like she’s got a tasty bit of information you don’t know about. Probably not tastier than the food in front of you, but your interest is piqued nonetheless. 

“What guy?” You sigh, giving into your curiosity quite easily. She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at you, then tilts her head to the side discreetly, and you follow her gaze towards—

Oh. That guy. 

You saw him on your way to your seat at first, a group of four guys sitting a few tables away in the same patio area of the restaurant, drawing your attention even before you’d sat down. Artfully messy brown curls swept up out of his face, thick dark brows framing bright eyes crinkled with laughter at something his friend had said, you’d felt yourself growing conscious of the man’s existence with just one glance. 

And then his gaze had flicked to your friends passing his table, but more importantly, your own gaze, and you’d nearly stumbled on your own feet.

Your cheeks had grown hot at the intensity of his stare following your path to your seat, not to mention the embarrassment that had flooded your veins at the thought of nearly eating shit in front of this very attractive stranger. 

Had you grown the nerve to look back at him at the time, you would’ve seen his lips quirk into a goofy grin, as well as all the shoving he’d gotten from his friends as they’d caught wind of his unabashed staring. 

Now you’re almost done with your meal, and you could swear you’ve felt him looking at you plenty more times. Not that it mattered at all, because your eyes have been firmly glued to your food and your friends only. 

Okay, so you might’ve hastened a few covert glances over in his direction too, but he’s been chatting away to his friends every time, so maybe you’re just making nothing into something. 

“Don’t even try to hide it, you’ve been making eyes at him too, girl,” Your other friend, Maren, pipes up, elbowing you in the arm playfully. The last of your girls, Camille, nods her agreement, smiling gleefully. “He’s hot.”  

Right, so perhaps not as covert as you’d thought. 

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” You reply, spearing another piece of pasta through your fork. You’re kicked under the table at that moment, hard enough to warrant the whine that escapes your mouth. “What?” Now you're met with three pointed glares your way. “Okay, fine. Yeah, he’s cute.” 

“Go talk to him!” 

“Go flirt with him!” 

“Absolutely not!” You exclaim. Your voice comes out louder than you intend and you duck your head quickly, worried you’d disturbed the peace of the quiet area. “He’s probably got a girlfriend already or something.” 

“If he does, she better dump his ass because he's been giving you fuck me eyes all damn night.” 

“No, he has not,” You hiss, which only gets you yet another look from them. You’re starting to get tired of all these looks, actually. “Has he? I mean—are they? Fuck me eyes?” 

“Oh yeah, he—” 

Camille clears her throat, cutting Samira off. “No, they’re not,” She assures you, placing a hand over yours. “He’s been smiling every time he looks over.”

“Maybe he’s looking at one of you guys?” 

“He’s definitely been looking at you.” 

You bite your lip, nose scrunching skeptically. You haven’t really been the subject of any guy’s attention before, let alone one as handsome as this one. You’ve learned it’s better not to get your hopes up when it comes to certain situations. This seems like one of them. “Are you sure?” 

“If I’m wrong, I’ll give you back your share of the villa rental.” 

“Can I get that in writing, or…?” 

Before any of them can come up with a smart remark, a plate is placed into the center of the table, on which is a large square of baklava, light and flaky with that sweet, sugary filling spilling out the sides of the piece that almost makes your mouth water. You’d seen it in the dessert section of the menu earlier, but had decided against ordering it in favor of trying an appetizer instead. 

“Oh, excuse me? We didn’t order this,” Maren speaks up, looking up at the waiter. 

He does a half turn, sweeping an arm in a vague direction. “It is from the gentleman in the blue shirt.” 

You follow his gaze, and fuck, your heart skips a beat in your chest, because it’s him. It’s the same guy you’ve been drawn to all night, and he’s actually looking right back at you this time. His hand comes up in a wave, then back down to his side almost immediately, like he’s worried about it seeming too eager, before settling with a reserved nod. All the while, he’s still got that smile gracing his face that makes your stomach flip flop. 

“He sent over a dessert?!?! I am so keeping that money, girl,” Camille hums, picking up her fork to dig in while Samira and Maren voice their agreement. 

You, on the other hand, well…you’re not sure what to think. You appreciate the gesture, but you're also confused. Why did he send something over? What did he want? 

It doesn't occur to you that he’s truly taken an interest in you until you're huddled outside with your friends talking next steps of the night. Whether you want to keep exploring this new place, or call it a day and go home. You’re firmly on the latter’s side because you're tired. But you’ll go along with whatever is decided. 

The guy and his friends have coincidentally left the restaurant at the same time as you did, judging by the sudden commotion that erupts behind you. Like a moth drawn to a flame, your gaze lands on him yet again, only this time, you actually lock eyes with him. Something jolts through you, something electric up your spine like a tiny shock. Something you’ve never felt before. You shove the foreign feeling deep down, no matter how much you’d like to explore it. 

He looks away, teeth sunk into his bottom lip to quell the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you avert your wandering eyes too, before anyone else notices. Evidently you’re a little too slow, because all three of your friends catch on instantly. 

“Go talk to him already.” Camille says matter-of-factly. 

“No, I—what do I even say?” 

“Maybe hello would be a good start?” 

You press your lips together, unimpressed, and you get a snicker in return, something about how you're not asking for his hand in marriage, you’re just trying to make conversation. It’s not that you don’t want to talk to him, it’s that you’re not exactly sure how to approach it. You’ve already convinced yourself of the worst, but to possibly have it play out in real life is a tangible fear of yours, and always has been. 

One of your girls (you’re willing to bet more money it’s Maren) gives you a not so gentle shove towards him, as does one of his friends over in his group. Now you’ve got no choice. You meet each other in the middle, just looking at each other for a few moments. It’s awkward and you have half a mind to turn and go, but then he speaks. 

“Hey,” He says. 

“Hi,” You reply shyly, shifting on your feet nervously. He shoves both hands into his pockets. He looks a bit nervous too, which does a significant wonder to calm you. “Thank you for the baklava. It was delicious.” 

“Yeah, of course. Glad you guys liked it. Figured you can’t go wrong with a classic.” He bobs his head, shoulders creeping up towards his ears in a shrug before dropping back down. “I’m Lando, by the way.” 

Lando. It’s not a name you’re expecting, but it suits him well. 

He sticks his hand out almost instinctively, like he’s been conditioned to do so. Maybe he has, considering the aura of professionality it gives off when you do shake his hand. 

His palm is smooth and warm against yours, long fingers curling around your hand like the sincere smile that curls his lips as you tell him your name in return. Dimples bracket his mouth on both sides. 

The handshake almost lasts a little too long for two people who’ve just met literally a few moments ago, as does the way his eyes linger upon yours. 

Even in the dark of the night, illuminated only by the warm glow of the lamps above you, you can see him much better up close. His sunkissed skin does little to hide the flushed pink on his cheeks that travels down to his chest, disappearing under the generously unbuttoned blue linen. You feel exposed under his intense gaze, looking back at those mesmerizing eyes. Blue, green, gray—maybe a mix of all three, you’re not sure, but you can’t help but want to figure it out. 

Then you remember that you don’t know this guy at all, and it brings you back to reality. 

“Lando, like…the guy from Star Wars?” You ask. It breaks the invisible tether between the two of you and he smiles, laughs a little bit too. 

He shrugs casually. “Not according to my mum and dad, but I do get that a lot.” 

“You must get tired of hearing it from people then.”

His head tilts to one side, smile going endearingly lopsided. “Depends on the person. Like, I didn’t mind when you said it just now.” You’re not sure how to respond to that, so you just smile, and he takes your reaction in stride, moving on. “Are you guys from around here, or…” 

“No, actually, we’re—um, we’re just here on holiday.”

“Oh, same! Yeah, we’ve been here a few days now, it’s been great. Is this your first time in Greece?” He asks, smile turning warm. You nod. “Have you checked out the local market yet?”

“Can’t say we have yet, no. We just got in the day before last, so…still figuring out our footing first. But I’ll keep it in mind, thank you!” 

Lando inhales sharply, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hey, y’know, if you want, maybe we could—” 

“Oi, Lando! Let’s go, mate!” 

He glances back over at his friends, one of whom is waving for him to return to his group rather wildly, before turning back to you. Whatever he was about to say is lost now, because he shrugs loosely. “Guess that’s my cue,” He sighs. Then his gaze softens, smile turning a little hopeful. “Will I see you around again? Small town and all.” 

“Uh…I dunno. Maybe, if it’s meant to be.” You have to try with all your might not to take the statement back, even though you really, really want to. 

If it’s meant to be—who the fuck says that? Like fate has anything to do with this miraculous interest Lando seems to have taken in you. If you were him, you’d find your words quite off putting. Instead, he smirks, crooked and cute. 

“Meant to be,” He repeats, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah alright, I’ll take my chances. Have a good night.” 

You bid him a soft goodnight, barely able to stifle the giggle that spills from your mouth when he nearly trips over the cobblestones on his way back to his friends. He’s awkward, you think, but still confident. It’s cute. 

Lando stays rooted in your mind the rest of the night, all the way up until you’re lying in bed, waiting for sleep to take hold of you. It’s weird to think this much about a guy you’ve just met, a guy who you’ve only had one conversation with and have left things up to chance in terms of seeing him again. 

-------

You’re the first one awake this morning, roused from your sleep by bright sunlight pouring through the window, even through the curtains. Contemplation of going back to sleep crosses your mind, but it’s no use. You’re up now, so you might as well make the most of your early morning. 

You love your friends dearly, but some alone time sounds like heaven right about now. There’s a coffee spot not far from where you’re staying that you remember seeing on your way in that seems like a perfect match to your solo walk, so you head there. You’ll be a nice friend and bring coffee home for when they eventually wake up too. 

After dropping them a text letting them know you’ve gone out, you set off. The walk back into town is short but serene, a welcome change from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives, and a reminder of why you’d all decided to vacation in this particular region of Greece in the first place. 

Someone calls out something that sounds like your name before you can step into the shop and you pause, casting a glance around to see if your ears might be playing tricks on you. You’ve only been here a few days, and the only other person who knows you other than your friends is…Lando. 

You squint a little harder to see through the glare of the sun, and lo and behold, there he is, hands linked behind his head. The grin that lifts your face is almost embarrassing, or would’ve been had Lando not been so eager upon seeing you wave at him. 

He’s clad in athletic shorts and a cutoff tee that shows off muscles you’re trying your very hardest not to stare at as he makes his way closer, curls tucked away in a baseball cap pulled low on his head. Headphones dangle from around his neck, and he’s panting, chest rising and falling heavily very clearly once he’s stopped in front of you. 

“Hey, good morning! I thought that was you,” He breathes, attempting to catch his breath. “Early riser too, I take it?” 

“Honestly, not usually! The sun decided I would be today, though, so…here I am.” 

“Here you are. Guess it was meant to be then, huh?” He chuckles, reaching up to flip his cap backwards. If you thought he was tan the night you met, he’s even tanner in the sun, bronze skin stretching over sinewy muscle that flexes as he sweeps a hand through his hair before tugging it back down in one smooth motion. “Doing a coffee run?” 

“Yeah, I’m the only one of us awake at this hour so I figured I’d bring them back a little something.” 

“You’re a saint. I’d let my mates suffer if it were me,” Lando snorts. 

You shrug. “Guess that’s the difference between the two of us.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, looking amused. “What else is different between you and me?” 

“Well, first of all, I would never be on a run at eight in the morning. Is someone punishing you, or is this a self-inflicted torture type thing?” 

That gets another laugh out of him, shoulders shaking with mirth. “Gotta keep in shape or my trainer might try to kill me with workouts instead.” 

“You’re an athlete?” You pry, intrigued. He looks the part, you think. Lean but not skinny, strong but not massively built. A runner, maybe? 

Lando freezes a split second, rocks from foot to foot, scratching at his nose. “Kind of, yeah.” 

“What’s your sport?” 

“Uh…golf. It’s more like a hobby than anything else.” 

“Golf,” You repeat, an amused smile poking at the edges of your mouth. “Can’t say I know a thing about it.” 

“Oh, it’s definitely something else, for sure. Super intense stuff, really grueling.” His words say one thing, but he’s grinning like he’s pulling your leg, lip pulled between his teeth in that same way as last night, nose scrunching adorably as he bobs his head quickly to further sell it. 

“Sure, if you say so. But d’you think your trainer would get mad if you cut your super intense training short to grab a cup of coffee with a friend?” 

You’re almost expecting him to say no, but Lando perks up instead, eyes crinkling happily at the corners. “Not at all. Shall we?” 

Over coffee, you find that Lando is an excellent conversationalist—funny and a good listener, an even better storyteller. He asks about you without seeming pushy or prying, and because of that you feel yourself relaxing a bit in his presence. Opening yourself up to the possibility of a good thing with him, no matter how short or fleeting it may be, whether it’s friendship or something more. 

A few weeks of summer in a place you've never been with a boy you don’t know is the time to be a little bolder. Chances are you’ll never see Lando again after this trip, so why not loosen up just a little bit? 

It’s only when more people start to trickle into the shop and you start to notice Lando’s eyes shifting over your shoulder more that you realize you’ve been here with him for a while now. And judging by the dozens of missed calls and texts from all three of your friends on your phone when you go to check it for the first time since you’d left, you’ve been gone a lot longer than you said you’d be. 

You know them well enough to know that they’re not above calling the local police to send out a search party for you if you don’t find your way back soon. 

“Friends wondering where you are?” 

You nod, sending a quick message that you are indeed alive and not kidnapped like they feared, before tucking your phone away again. “Guess I better get them their coffees for sure now, or else they might not let me back in the house.” 

“Lemme buy it for them,” He offers sincerely, offering you a lopsided grin. You shake your head rapidly at the suggestion, but he continues, “I’m the reason you’ve been gone so long, the least I can do is buy them drinks. Call it an apology for making them worry, yeah?” 

“You really don’t have to, Lando.” 

“I know. I want to,” He insists, looking truly genuine. First dessert last night, now coffee today. You have half a mind to push back a little more, but you get the feeling Lando is as persistent as he is handsome, so you taking a firm stance on something like this seems like a moot point. Giving in, you nod, and he mirrors it, looking proud. 

He lets you take the lead in reciting your friends’ orders once you’ve made your way back over to the front counter, stepping forward with a hand to the small of your back to pay for the drinks before you have any bright ideas to pull one over on him and pay for them yourself. 

The barista smiles politely, pen hovering above a cardboard cup. “And a name for that?” 

Lando casts a furtive glance around the area before leaning in and saying his name quietly, as if he’s worried he’ll run into someone who he doesn’t want to see. You notice, but don’t really pay it any mind. You understand far too well not wanting to talk to someone you're unprepared for. 

Soon enough Lando’s got the drinks in hand and you’re back outside, and he’s smiling again. You’ve noticed he does that a lot when he looks at you. You’re sure you’re the same way with him. 

“My mates and I, we’re planning on having a little barbeque at our villa tomorrow night. You should come,” Lando says encouragingly, tilting his head to the side. When your brows raise in surprise, he hastily adds, “And your friends too, obviously. We’d love the company.” 

“Ah! Um, I dunno. Wouldn’t wanna crash your thing.” 

“You wouldn't be. Seriously, come hang out. We’re fun, I promise!” 

“I just—I forget if we’ve got plans, that’s all.” You’re not lying when you say it, you truly forget if you’re free tomorrow night. Most of it stems from your awful memory, but a small part of it attributes to how your brain kind of stops working properly around Lando. 

“Right, well, you figure that out, and if you find you’ve got a free evening,” He balances the drinks deftly in one hand, the other fishing his phone out of his shorts pocket and swiping at the screen briefly before holding it out to you, “text me, let me know.” 

You’re not sure where you find the boldness to tap your phone number into his contacts, but you do it with confidence, saving it under your name and a smiley face. 

“Cute.” Lando smirks, chuckling as he sends a simple hi so you've got his number too. “Now, I believe these are yours, and…maybe I’ll see you tomorrow? If it’s meant to be.” 

You smile at the mirroring of last night’s words from him as you situate the cardboard tray in your own arms. “Maybe.” 

The smile hasn’t left your face even by the time you arrive back home, because you’ve been thinking about Lando the whole way. For a stranger you’ve met only yesterday, he’s sure been occupying a lot of space in your mind. You aren’t entirely sure how to feel about it. 

You’re already prepared for the berating you’re about to get as you close the front door behind you carefully, making your way to the kitchen.

“Where the hell have you been?” 

You look up to see all three of your friends sitting around the kitchen table, and none of them look particularly happy. You smile innocently, holding up the cardboard tray of drinks up as a peace offering. “Coffee?” 

“It better come with an explanation.” 

Nodding vigorously, you dole out each drink to your friends. “It does, I swear. I didn’t just disappear, I ran into—” 

“Hold the fuck on. Why does this say Lando? Why is that man’s name on my cup—” 

“Oh my god, you did not get coffee with him without telling us!” 

“You bitch!” 

That’s how you end up telling them the whole story—running into him in town, talking for ages, and that brings you to your next point. 

“We don’t have any plans for tomorrow night, do we?” 

“There’s the vineyard tour in the afternoon, but that should end around five. Why?” 

“Lando invited us to a barbecue at his villa,” You say quickly. That gets their attention immediately, all of their eyes widening in the same shocked looks. None of them answer your question though. “Is that…something we’d be interested in?” 

Samira is the first to snap out of it, mouth curving into a playful smirk. “Invited us, or invited you?” 

“Definitely just her.” 

“Whatever! Do we wanna go or not?” You grumble, doing your best to fight the grin threatening to overtake your face. The thought of him wanting to spend time with you brings you a teensy bit of satisfaction. 

“Of course we’re going!” 

After they’re done poking fun at you, you’re able to take a moment to top out a quick message to Lando. That barbecue invite still up for grabs? 

You're not expecting an immediate answer, but your phone dings with a text back before you even set it down. 

Lando: Of course. Plans fell through? 

You: seems like you’ve really made an impression on my friends 

Lando: Not sure whether to be scared or flattered…

You: your guess is as good as mine! we’ll find out tomorrow :)

Lando: Brb gotta go call my lawyer and update my will 

“You’re texting him right now, aren’t you?” 

You look up from your phone to see Camille leaning in the doorway to your room, a soft, knowing smile on her face. “Yeah, he—uh, he says he’s looking forward to meeting you guys again.” She comes to sit beside you, looking like she wants to talk about something. You set it aside, head tilting in a silent question. 

“Do you think you’ll stay in contact with Lando after we leave?” 

“I’m not sure. Haven’t really thought about it all that much, to be honest.”

If you do think about it, you haven’t even known Lando for more than a day. You’ve only just met him yesterday, seen him twice, one of which was completely spur of the moment. So what if that spur of the moment encounter was the most connected you’ve felt to someone in a long time? 

You don’t know him, and chances are, he’s not looking for anything serious. You don’t even know if you’re looking for anything serious. 

“It’s okay if you want to.” 

“I shouldn’t want to,” You say. It feels like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anything. You look to Camille for an answer, but she just pats your hand. “Right? I’m never gonna see him again, so I shouldn’t get attached.” 

“You don’t know that for sure, do you?” 

“I guess not. It feels scary, though. Opening yourself up to something when you don't know what’ll happen.” 

Camille hums, a placating, even comforting sound to soothe your worries. She’s always been pretty good at getting you to see the brighter side in things. “There’s fun in that too. Being spontaneous, surprising yourself. You never know, Lando could be just the thing you need, the one you didn’t know you were looking for. And if not, you don’t have to see him again. A win-win, I’d say.” 

She leaves you alone to your thoughts after that, left to ponder what exactly it is you want. It might be stupid and entirely over-optimistic of you, but Lando has already pulled you in. You’re not sure what it is about him. He makes you want more, want to know more. 

Whatever happens will happen, and if things don’t work out…well, Camille is right. You never have to see Lando again. 

His name flashes across your screen later in the night, right before you’re about to go to sleep. You’ve been texting back and forth all day, but this one is different. He’s video calling you right now. 

You stare at his name for longer than you should, finger hovering over the answer button a few beats before pressing it. His face pops into view once the call connects. Like you, he’s sitting in bed, leaned up against the headboard, cozied up in a soft looking jumper. He looks like he’s moments away from drifting off, but he called you, so he must want to talk. 

“Hi,” You say softly. 

“Hey, you.” He smiles, warm and sleepy and all squinty in a way that makes you want to crawl through the screen and tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. “You must be tired.” 

“Eh, I’m alright. Why?” 

“‘Cause you’ve been running through my mind all day.” 

You let out a wildly unappealing snort of laughter at his poor attempt at a pick up line. “That’s terrible! Oh my god, that was awful, Lando, seriously.” 

“No?” His smile grows giddy, shoulders shaking with his chuckles. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Got you laughing though.” 

Conversation falls into the same easy nature as this morning, like you’ve known him for ages. He makes you laugh until your ribs hurt, smile until your cheeks feel the same. It still amazes you just how comfortable you feel around him, as someone who usually takes a while to warm up to people. 

Maybe you should take it as a sign. 

A jumble of muffle voices offscreen some time later makes Lando squint. “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Don’t hang up. ” He lets the phone drop onto the bed, checking once to make sure you’re still there before disappearing from sight. 

You hear his footsteps fade, then more voices you can’t quite make out. Someone laughs off in the distance, and then he’s back, resituating himself with the remnants of an amused grin on his lips. 

“Everything okay?” 

“My mates are yelling at me to turn off the light, so I’d better go,” He sighs goodnaturedly, lips turning down into a frown. Then he yawns widely, and you realize how late it’s gotten since you’ve picked up his call. Losing track of time when you’re talking to Lando seems to be a recurring theme. “I’m glad you’re coming tomorrow.” 

Your breath catches a little in your chest, both at his words and the way he’s looking at you through the screen as he says it, nothing but genuine. “Me too.” 

You’re starting to think this whole try not to get attached thing is going to be much harder than you thought. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new chapters :)

[lewisvinga]

beyond meat | lewis hamilton x fem! reader

summary; a peak into the lives of internet’s favorite vegans couple

fc; samira ahmed

warning; suggestive comments,

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote

note; requested ! my requests are closed atm!

masterlist !

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liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and others !

yourusername: walks w the best boy + fig and brie salads after !

tagged; roscoelovescoco

roscoelovescoco: love’s you’s 🐶🩷 liked by yourusername !

georgerussell63: we all know you were fighting the urge to say ‘without daddy’

yourusername: i really do love roscoe’s daddy yes i do 😇

georgerussell63: you are WICKED

username: bro😭😭

username: ugh SHES GORGEOUS

username: im not vegan but those salads look immaculate

username: my queen

lewishamilton: 😍 liked by yourusername !

lewishamilton: i’m gonna need one of those salads when i’m back btw

yourusername: bold of you to assume i didn’t buy enough brie and fig to last us 2 weeks

username: need a vegan recipe book asap

yourusername: i’m working to post them on my story so you guys don’t have to pay!:))

username: THE PEOPLES PRINCESS

carmenmmundt: missing your vegan cooking rn😖😖

yourusername: lmk when ur in town babe, i’ll cook for uuuuuu🫶

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liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, and others !

yourusername: what a wonderful week of amazing vegan eats! vanilla cupcakes, tofu scramble tacos, fruit bowls, fruit smoothies, and oat milk lattes ft post dinner food comas 😴😴😴

tagged; roscoelovescoco, lewishamilton

yourusername: recipes are all on tiktok btw my loves!

username: tysm queen 🙏🙏

roscoelovescoco: 🐶🩷🩷 liked by yourusername !

lewishamilton: wow, you’re gorgeous, my love

yourusername: lewwwww🥹🥹

lewishamilton: you truly know the way to me heart!

yourusername: good thing cooking is my love language 😁

username: oh to look like y/n..

username: i’d be vegan for y/n tbh

carmenmmundt: 😍🩷 liked by yourusername !

francisca.cgomes: wowwwww😍🤤 liked by yourusername !

username: y/n!!! what do you think abt beyond meat??🤔🤔

georgerussell63: DONT ask her that.

yourusername: ignore george !!! but i’m not the biggest fan, i love cooking so i try to make everything from scratch 😊😊

username: gosh she’s so nara smith coded

username: george what do u mean by that 🤨🤨

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liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: no i don’t like beyond meat

tagged; lewishamilton

yourusername: but i’d eat his beyond meat

georgerussell63: ENOUGH I’VE HEARD THIS BEYOND MEAT JOKE TOO OFTEN

yourusername: well, too bad!

lewishamilton: nothing i can do abt it mate 🤣georgerussell63

username: GEORGE?? LMAOO

username: her comment after IM SCREAMING😭😭

lewishamilton: 🫣🫣🫣

yourusername: 🤫😁😁

username: so her comment is what george meant by not asking her abt beyond meat

username: y/n rlly won the lottery 😖

lilymhe: tell ur man i want u

yourusername: and you tell your man i want u 2

alex_albon: wait….

lewishamilton: no can do, she already said she wants my beyond meat😇😇

georgerussell63: FOR THE LOVE OF GOD NO MOREEE lewishamilton

lewishamilton: sorry? georgerusseell63

[nyctophiliq]

love, i am a disgusting human...but here's my request: stepsis samira fucking you because she's jealous of your new gf and proves she can do it better. 😳😳💓

love you gf, feel absolutely free to ignore it if it makes you uncomfy 😽

✮ —YOU RIGHT, SAMMY ; samira

minors dni. afab! reader, nsfw ! — lowercase writing intended, dub-con, manipulation, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, finger riding, clothed sex, cheating (?), jealous samira

wc. 1,8k

moss’ notes; are you kidding estella? step-cest is the best dead dove do not eat content ever !!! this got more of a 'love-making' thing rather than 'fucking' :/ love you too gf, hope you enjoy 💗😳

“in a minute!” you answered after a few knocks disturbed the silence in your room. can’t a girl take underwear pictures for her girlfriend in peace? you had no privacy in this house, everyone always wanted you to do something and that was fine, until like seven pm, after that you wanted to have the same respected free time as everyone else.

you threw your pajama back on, tossed your phone on the bed, and hurried to the tall white door of your room. it was a mess on your floor after you flipped the whole place up on its head, trying to find the lingerie set that you bought for just the moment like this, to send your girlfriend.

“samira?” she stood at your door, anger and sadness riddling her face. “what happened, are you okay?” despite hating your stepmother you loved her daughter, your step-sister, samira. she was caring, she got you to stuff you only dreamed of getting because of how strict your father was. she took you out to eat whatever you wanted, drove you to school without having to ask, and always left some extra cash in your pocket if you wanted to buy something nice for yourself. samira wasn’t like all those step-sisters in the movies, she wasn’t mean or a bully, she cared for you deeply, and she wanted to keep you safe no matter if it got her in trouble.

“why did you replace me, like all the others? you don’t love me anymore, y/n?”

samira had her fair share of rejections and broken relationships even with how big her heart really was. you sat next to her as she talked about how bad it was, letting her hold you after spilling her guts out, letting her kiss your cheek because you just felt sorry for your older sister- the one that had so much love to give, so much love she gives to you. but when that happens other things happen too… you always convinced yourself it was alright for that to happen, it only happened a couple of times that she pulled you onto her lap, and kissed you sweetly on the lips before pushing you on your back and kissing you some more.

“sami- what are you, don’t…” you gasp, eyes still open in surprise at the sudden feeling of your step-sister’s lips against yours and she feels the way your fingers stiffen in her oversized shirt, unmoving while she kisses you, moving her mouth against yours all while you gawk and freeze in front of her.

but she’s heartbroken, right? she was rejected yet again and her step-sister wouldn’t hurt her feelings too, would you? so you let her even if there is a feeling in your stomach that’s telling you this is wrong, that you have a girlfriend and you are cheating her on, with your step-sister! but samira was always so sweet to you and you don’t want to upset her by being like all the rest.

“aren’t you gonna kiss me back, you love me, don’cha?” samira asks in earnest when she pulls away to frown at you, her voice slurred a bit as her hand grabs at the hem of your shirt, pulling on it like a needy child. “i d-do, i do…” you find the strength to respond, and it truly warms you from the inside out when she smiles at you softly and gives you another peck on the lips before taking your hand, dragging you towards the bed while kicking your door shut with her leg.

samira sat down on the bed, her hands now resting on your waist, staring up at you before they slip under the shirt to caress your stomach and hips. her fingers play with the cloth before pushing it slightly upwards, revealing the underside of your lacy bra. her fingers ball into a fist, creasing your shirt with it before both of her hands caught your pajama top and pulled it off of you, exposing the rest of your lewd underwear.

“you are wearing this for her, don’t you? were you lying to me when you said you love me?“ her anger takes the better of her, forcefully grabbing you by your bra straps and pulling you onto her lap. your knees rest on either side of her thighs, hands holding you up by her shoulder as you shake your head. “i do love you, sammy, i-i promise- it’s for you…” 

“i’m sorry for hurting you,” she says, her eyes fixed on your chest before her lips connect with the reddened skin, moving the strap aside to give her better access, sliding it down your arm and her hand reaching behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra.

“we should stop... sammy, i have a g-girlfriend.” your voice is small and you feel just as small. how can you say that to her? you wanna please her because there is no way you want to hurt her feelings when she’s already so fragile.

“but i love you and you love me… this is what you do when you love someone, y/n.” she grunts, chest heaving against yours as she breathes heavily against your skin and it’s almost too quick the way you’re replying, feeling as your bra loosens around your chest and then samira helps you out of it, hastily tossing it to the side.

“yeah, you are right, i-i’m sorry sammy…” samira sighs as she watches your breasts hang free on your body. she wants to take them into her mouth, lick your nipples until they perk up, tug on them so they become nice and puffy, pinch them to hear you say her name so prettily.

taking shaky breaths as she tries to pull herself together. something dangerous turns inside of her when she looks up at your teary eyes and nods softly, biting nervously at the inside of your cheek. “it’s okay, i would never be angry at you, baby.” she slurs, stroking the top of your head, pushing the scattered strands of hair out of your face with an eager smile on her face. she leans in, slurring some kind of praise before kissing you again, prying your lips open with her own as she licks eagerly into your mouth, drinking up your moans while your fingers twist and pull in her hair, her clothed thigh rubbing against your panties.

“it’s alright, sammy’s gonna make ya feel good, princess. so just… listen to your big sister, hm?” she asks, voice whispering directly into your ear causing a shiver to run down your spine. it was less of a question and more of a command, one you melted into, nodding briefly as you bit your lip, too nervous to talk. your reaction amused samira and she smiled sweetly as she pressed a kiss against your collarbone eliciting a pleased exhale from you.

“does it feel good, hm?” samira had thought about this before, thought about her lips against your skin, marking you as hers, hearing you say how much you liked it. she wanted to hear you say that you liked her delicate fingers running over your skin, the way you make yourself wet as she touches you. “y-yes!”

“does it feel better than her, your girlfriend, right? she knows nothing about how to touch you, i do… your big sister sammy does.” she says as she rubs gentle circles into the plush of your thigh, slightly pinching it whenever inchings closer to your aching core. your mind is almost too foggy with lust to respond, all you can think about is her, feeling more, more of her. “she k-knows nothing… you do s-sammy.” you choke on your words, head falling on her shoulder when her fingers touch your clothed entrance, poking the delicate fabric of your panties, toying with it for a second before pushing it aside.

samira grins at your answer, her chest blooming with pride, her fingers slowly pushing inside of you and she chuckles when you let a strained moan out. poor you must have been waiting for this for a while, you wouldn’t touch yourself in the dead of night, right? your parents always bother you so late and you can never satisfy yourself, that’s why you tried to find a girlfriend because you were too scared to ask for sammy’s help. “you feel amazing sissy, nice and warm… squishy.”

“s’good sammy… feels s’good.” you moan mindlessly as she starts to pump her fingers inside. you can hear the faintest slick from your soaked cunt and you almost want to hide it, burying your face deeper into the crook of her neck. her two slim fingers slide smoothly in and out of you, your soft moans buzzing on her skin as she starts picking her pace up.

her eyes roll back as she feels something tickling the thin skin of her collarbones, your saliva trickling down until it hides in her shirt. she curls her finger up and your hips lift to meet the feeling, drive it deeper, pleasure flourishing through your body in waves. her other hand comes up to palm one of your breasts, squeezing them until the fat oozes out between her fingers, moving to flick your nipple with her thumb when you bite into her skin.

“yeah? you wanna cum on my fingers pretty?” samira asks as she presses hot kisses against your cool, sweat-slicked neck.

you nod dumbly, words falling out of your mouth incoherently as you near your high. the heel of her palm presses against your clit, shooting electricity through your nerves, curling your toes, forcing your hips to roll faster, and all you can really focus on is how good it feels when she kisses your neck, leaving the lingering feeling of her lips behind. before you know it you are coming undone, cunt squeezing down on her fingers as you cream on them. you reach for the arm that is inside your panties, nails digging into her flesh as you ride out your high.

“sissy, what do we say when somebody makes us cum?” she hummed while pulling out of you, kindly petting your entrance with her soaked fingers. you take a few short breaths, each of them cutting off as you begin to sob, your arms sliding around samira’s shoulder to pull her closer, digging into her muscles as the last of your orgasm twitches through your body.

“tha-thank you… thank you sammy.” you bawl as you try to pull her body closer to yours, trying to claim the warmth that she is emitting. it was so cold in the room now, without her fingers warming your insides… samira really did know best.

[monzabee]

girl crush – dr3

masterlist || part 2 ||

Summary: The one where both you and Daniel meet your celebrity crushes in the course of a weekend, and decide to give it a go. 

Pairing: daniel ricciardo x actress!reader

Word Count: 4522

Warnings: fluff, shy daniel, shy reader, max being a menace (we love you max), awkwardness, 2023 australian gp, oscars (i love you Jamie Lee Curtis, you rock), slight age gap? (the reader is around the same age as Max)

Request: this is a long one besties, but you can read the request here! + “Hello! Can I please request nepo!reader who's an actress and maybe has an oscar or something? Maybe with Lewis or Daniel”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! this title changed so many times i lost track, but at the end, i went with the song – mainly because harry styles. i don’t know what’s wrong with me but this was very hard to write because i had BIG plans for it, so i’m sorry it took a while for me to finish it. also, i listened to a lot of la la land for some reason, so here you go. i hope i did it justice, and this was definitely very fun to write and i had a great time writing it, so thank you, to the anons, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Growing up with parents who were obsessed with Formula One had finally taken its toll on you, you decide as you walk towards the Red Bull Hospitality. Your father’s sudden retirement from acting, combined with your mother’s stubborn personality is the reason why you suddenly find yourself at the 2023 Australian Grand Prix. You don’t really know why they didn’t wait for the one in Miami, or perhaps Las Vegas, since their primary residence is in the US, but you had no choice but to join them when they pulled out the ‘We’re getting old’ card. So there you are, after 15 hours of flying over the Pacific Ocean, in Melbourne and ready to enjoy the racing weekend. Or so you think – because you spend the entirety of Friday catching up on lost sleep while cursing every single time your parents decide to call you to let you know how much of a great time they’re having. 

In the end, you get ready Saturday morning, to get breakfast with your parents before leaving for Albert Park. Just as you’re about to leave your room, your eyes fall on a familiar hat, adorned with a certain number, and you put it on your head without giving it a second thought. Your parents don’t comment on your choice of merchandise even if they find it odd, which is good, you think, because you don’t particularly want to hear your father tease you over your “teenage crush”.  The whole paddock is buzzing by the time you get there, and you immediately feel guilty because you missed the practice sessions the previous day. You quickly lose your parents to the crowd around you, too busy looking at the action around you, when you hear your name being called from somewhere. You look around trying to find the source of the voice, when you find a familiar face which makes you smile. 

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?” You ask, quickly pulling Samira for a hug, who in return points to the camera. 

“Weekend job, babe.” She laughs. “I’ve interviewed your father just a couple of minutes ago, actually.” 

“Oh no,” You laugh and shake your head. “Did he tell you about his petunias?” “He did, indeed.” Samira nods and hands you one of the microphones in her hand. “Are you up for a quick interview?” She asks you as she gives you an innocent smile. 

You nod while letting out a chuckle. “Well, someone has to save your viewers from my father’s garden talk, so why not?” 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Samira tells you, her words coming of a bit slurred because of the way she talks too fast. She then turns to the camera after making sure that your mic is working. “Welcome back to the second day of the Australian Grand Prix, I’m here with Y/N Y/LN, whose father we just spoke to; Y/N, is this a family day out, or what?” 

“This is definitely a family day out, Samira.” You laugh, nodding to strengthen your point. “Not a very usual one, we usually prefer to stay a bit more local for the weekend outings, but you never know where we’ll be next, I guess.” 

“By ‘local’, do you mean the Oscars, perhaps? I mean, can we talk about your win for a moment? How does it feel to be the receiver of the award for the Actress in a Supporting Role?” 

You take a deep breath as you feel your smile widen, as you can’t even try to hide your happiness. “It feels amazing, let me tell you. It was an amazing opportunity and I can’t thank enough to the lovely director and everyone who made the movie possible.” Samira nods with a satisfied look on her face as you answer. “Congratulations once again for your win. I have to ask, big Red Bull fan?” She asks you in a teasing voice.

“What?” You asked, confused. Only to realise the hat sitting on your head when she points to it with a silent chuckle. You let out a laugh while instinctively touching the hat on your head. “Oh god, you could say so, I guess; yeah.” 

“I mean, I have to comment on the obvious part here.” She points to the hat while shooting the camera a look. “Number 3? You do realise the changes in the grid, don’t you?” 

You laugh at her teasing voice, shrugging and smiling with an innocent look. “What can I say, I like to avoid the reality and live in my delusions.” After a few more teasing from Samira, you explain with a laugh, “No jokes, though, I honestly hope Daniel Ricciardo returns to Red Bull somehow because I don’t know how I’ll cope without him for another season.” 

“A big Danny Ric fan, then, I presume?” Samira asks, pointedly. 

“Oh yeah, been for a while now.”

After you’re done with your interview and bid adieu to Samira, who thanks you a dozen times more, you find your parents at the Red Bull hospitality, speaking with none other than Christian Horner himself, accompanied by Max. It’s a slightly awkward transition when you join their conversation, but it passes quickly. It doesn’t take long for your parents to be involved with their own conversation with the team principle, and for you and Max to speak amongst yourselves. Although you ask him every single question that comes to your mind about racing, whether it makes sense or not, and he answers each of them without discouraging you. 

He pulls a funny face when he realises your choice of merch, pointing to your hat with a mischievous smile on his face. “Interesting choice, I would have gone with Checo.” 

You roll your eyes and huff, taking your hat in the process. “You’re just jealous because it’s not your number, Max.” 

“You wanna try that again?” Max raises his eyebrows. 

“So what if I’m wearing his number?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest. “He’s a very good driver.”

“Who is not driving this seaso– Ow! Stop it!” Max exclaims as you hit his arm repeatedly in an attempt to stop him talking. “I hope you’re just as charming when you meet him.”

You pull a face while asking, “What do you mean ‘when I meet him’?”

He gives you an unamused look. “You’re either a very good actress, or you are very bad at checking your social media.” His eyes widen when you match his look, which tells him everything he needs to know. “You know he’s around, right? He’s shooting promo stuff, I think.” 

“What do you mean he’s around?” You shriek in an attempt to hide your hat, as if Daniel is actually around to see it. 

“Yeah, wait, let me call him.” He takes out his phone and quickly dials him before you have the opportunity to tell him not to do that, but he quickly shoves his phone back into his pocket when he spots someone familiar over your shoulder and waves them over. 

Your eyes widen as you hiss, “You’re the worst, you know that?” 

He winks at you a playfully in return, “Don’t forget to invite me to your wedding.” Then, he shakes the hand of the driver, who finally makes his way to both of you, and pulls him into what you can only describe as a ‘bro hug’. “Hello, man.” 

“Hello, mate.” Daniel greets him back. His eyes widen in recognition when he catches your eyes over Max’s shoulder, and he side-steps to shake your hand with excitement, which only makes you clutch the hat closer to your chest. “Hello, you’re Y/N Y/LN. Oh my god, I’m a big fan!” 

“M-me too!” You manage to get out, and then quickly add, “A big fan of you, not myself. That would be very egotistical of me.” You inhale a sharp breath as you ignore the look Max gives you, and close your eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Please ignore that, I think the jet lag is finally catching up with my brain.” 

“Sure, we’ll call it the jet lag.” Max mumbles, which earns him a hit with your elbow in his ribs. “Ow!” 

“I’m this close to switching teams and supporting Mercedes instead.” You lift your hand to show the minimal space you’ve left between your thumb and pointer-finger. 

“I think I should take over, here before you drive her away, Max.” He jokingly shakes his hand in a motion to make him go away, and then turns you with a warm smile as Max leaves the two of you to join some of the engineers nearby. “Now, should we get you a Red Bull?”

Talking to Daniel is very easy, you realise quickly. Once you (both) get over your shyness, the conversation just flows in a way you’re not used to. He, too, answers any questions you might have like Max did, but the look in his eyes are different when you show interest in something he’s particularly passionate about. He asks you about receiving your first Oscar, and you ask him about how his wine business is going – which ends up with him promising to send a few bottles over so that you can give it your stamp of approval; you both decide that your review is going be on the back of the bottles. 

“But doesn’t it get into your eyes when you’re spraying it?” You ask him, trying to comprehend how the champagne they spray doesn’t go everywhere. “And doesn’t it burn? It has alcohol, and… bubbles.”

“You might be onto something here.” He mumbles in thought, thinking whether the champagne burned his eyes or not. “Occupational hazard?” He asks in an uncertain voice, hoping it satisfies your question as an answer. 

“Oh, right.” You nod, taking another sip from the can he got you. “It’s crazy, you’ve won like what? 8 races? That’s crazy, you’re crazy.” The way you keep saying whatever comes to your mind makes Daniel smile as the energy you’re feeling taking over your body for the time being. “Wow, I’ve never felt like this, is this what energy drinks do to you?” 

“Probably why you shouldn’t drink too much.” He agrees.

“Sorry.” You smile apologetically, suddenly very aware of the fact that you are, in fact, rattling nonsense in front of your biggest celebrity crush. “You must think I’m crazy, and I shouldn’t be holding you back. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

Daniel is panicking inside when you start to get up, his mind scrambling up words to find a way to make you stay – he feels like a kid who’s asking his parents to let him play for a little longer. It’s not that he is not a social person, he is, but the conversation the two of you share is one of the most meaningful ones to him, even though you’re not actually talking about anything that deep. But he realises there is no pretences with you, no expectations, nothing to hide. He enjoys the way you speak what’s on your mind, whether it might be complimentary or the opposite, but he enjoys how you present your opinion and why you have it. He knows he’s extremely starstruck at that very moment, god knows he’s met enough famous people to know what it feels like, but it’s the kind of starstruck that makes him want to be not shy about it. He wants to keep talking to you for as long as you can tolerate him, because in his mind, he might be the one who is butchering the whole conversation up just by shutting up and succumbing to his shyness. He’s hyperaware of the fact that he has held himself back over the past hour, just because he was thinking about the fact that your hair is looking very shiny under the Australian sun and it is his number on your hat. It’s not something the two of you talked about, yet, but when he realises that it is his number on it, there is this inexplicable pride surging over him.

So, with his entire courage, he says, “Stay.” He clears his throat to buy himself some time to think of something else to say. “I mean, I don’t have anything else I need to do, and it’s very nice to talk to you. So, you know, if you want to, we could maybe, I don’t know, continue to talk?”

“Oh.” You let out a breath, eyes wide with excitement (and a little bit of apprehension), but despite all the nervousness you’re feeling, you find yourself back in your seat, and mumbling. “Of course, it’s very nice to speak with you too.” 

And so you find yourself immersed in another conversation with the Aussie seated across from you. He is open about the past year – which as a fan you’re dying to know what happened, but don’t want to question him because he is only human after all. But for some reason, it comes naturally to talk about his pseudo-retirement with you. He tells you about his plans for the year, and how he hopes to get back to a seat by the start of the next season. In return, you tell him about the time how you almost stopped acting, but the last project you gave a change brought you an Oscar. It’s a much deeper conversation than before, but somehow you find yourself talking without feeling nervous to do so – without any second thoughts. 

“I, uh, I like your hat.” He smiles nervously, pointing to the discarded hat on your lap. 

You laugh nervously as your fingers occupy themselves with the visor of the cap. “Thanks, it’s my favourite.” 

“Yeah?” The question that leaves his mouth is so soft that you think you would miss it if your eyes weren’t so focused on him. 

“Oh, yeah.” You assure him with a little shrug. “Much better than orange, let me tell you, I look hideous in orange.” 

A large smile finds its way onto your lips when he lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “I somehow find it impossible to believe.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re flirting with me, Daniel.” You tease, causing him to smirk back at you. He doesn’t answer you, but instead looks at you with a very particular look which confirms what you’ve just said. Your small stare-down is sadly broken apart by Max, who calls out Daniel’s name to let him know that Christian is looking for him. 

There is a sad look in his eyes when he realises that he has to go for real this time, but you give him a sad smile as you let him know you’ll be watching the screens for him during the quali. As you feel the wind breezing around you, you instinctively wrap your arms around your middle to get rid of the shiver the colder air provides. A look of recognition passes through Daniel’s face as he asks, “Are you cold?”

“A little, but it’s oka–”

“I’ll be right back.” Daniel announces as he leaves you and Max, causing the latter to turn to you with his phone in his hand. Max lets out a deep sigh, mumbling something under his breath in a language you don’t recognise, most likely Dutch. 

“What are you doing?” You ask him, head tilted to the side to try and see what he’s looking at on his phone. He turns it to you after a while, apparently finding what he was looking for. “What’s that?” You ask, pointing to the phone which displays a paused video of Daniel sitting in a chair. 

“He’ll probably kill me once he realises I’ve made you watch this, but the way the two of you looking at each other like lovesick puppies is making me nauseous.” He points to the phone with his head. “Play it.”

You give him a sceptical look, but do as he says and press the little triangle in the middle of the screen. The interview starts to play, and Daniel is talking about racing and the ongoing season. You let the video play for a while before looking up at Max again, more confused. “What am I supposed to see?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” Max groans, taking his phone out of your hand and fast-forwarding the video to find what he’s looking for. “Here.” 

You press play on the video once again, but this time it starts with the interviewer asking Daniel about his celebrity crush. While he’s thinking about his answer in the video, you throw an unamused look at Max, who urges you to direct your attention back to the video. Just as you move your eyes back onto the screen, his answer echoes through the phone speakers which makes your eyes widen. “What?” You ask Max as you scramble to play back the section of the interview. 

“So, any celebrity crushes we should be keeping our eyes out for?” The interviewer asks, out of frame. 

There is a thoughtful look on his face as he thinks about his answer and once he decides, there is a smile breaking on his face. “I mean, probably Y/N Y/LN. I’ve watched everything she’s in, probably multiple times, she’s just so talented.” 

You watch that particular part of the video back a couple of times before Max takes his phone out of your hands with a look asking if you’re okay. “When was this?” 

“I don’t know,” He shrugs. “A couple of years back, but I don’t think his answer has changed over the years.”

You blink a couple of times, trying to digest the fact that your celebrity crush also named you as his celebrity crush. “Oh, wow.”��

Daniel returns a few moments later with a hoodie in his hands. He smiles at you warmly as he hands it to you. “Here, that should help.” 

“Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to.” You breath out, taking the hoodie out of his hand and putting it on with his help when he gives you a look that says he won’t accept it back. After you fix the oversized hoodie on you, you turn to him with a smile as you also put on the hat on your head. 

The smile he gives you in return when he sees you in his number and merch fills your stomach with butterflies, and Max must be feeling weird about being a part of the scene because he lets Daniel know that he’ll wait at the garage. As Max leaves, Daniel turns back at you with a sad smile on his face. “I really don’t wanna leave, but–”

“You have a job to do, Daniel.” You smile with an understanding, putting an encouraging hand on his forearm. “Although I would love to keep you to myself, I’m sure there are fans out in the world who would love to see you back as much as I do.” 

He lets out a small groan. “Please tell me you’ll be here tomorrow as well.” 

“Well, I came all this way to watch the race too, so I’ll probably be around.” You tease him. 

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks you in a hopeful voice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You affirm. 

After a final look, both of start walking in different directions. And just as you’re about to leave the hospitality, you hear him call out your name. When you turn to look at him over your shoulder you hear him yell, “My number looks good on you.” 

In retrospect, you wanted to arrive earlier to find a certain driver, but you couldn’t sleep last night because you couldn’t stop thinking about the day’s events. So when you wake up later than your alarm Sunday morning, you rush to get ready to leave your hotel room. By the time you arrive at Albert Park, it’s almost noon. You’re not late to see the race, there is still couple of hours until the big event, but your eyes look around the chaotic hospitality to spot Daniel. You can see a few familiar faces, some engineers you met yesterday and the drivers talking to some crew members near the garage, but there is a small frown on your face as you keep looking for the Australian driver. You’re about to give up when, suddenly, you feel someone grabbing your arm – which makes you jump back with a shriek. 

“You scared me!” You exclaim, looking at the stranger who, thankfully, lets go of your arm after your outburst. “Sorry, can I help you?” 

“Sorry! I thought you were lost and looking for your boyfriend.” They respond, pointing towards the garages. “I saw him enter a few minutes ago.” 

“I don’t have a–” You start the say, but the person is already starting to walk away to the opposite direction. “Boyfriend.” You sigh, deciding to take the advice and see if Daniel might be at the garage after all.

If you thought there was a chaos outside the garage, you’re greatly wrong, because the only word you can use to describe the Red Bull garage is chaotic. There are crew members everywhere, trying to get the cars ready for the upcoming race. So, you do your best to slip through them without disturbing their work. Some of the members you met yesterday greet you, which makes you smile as you greet them back. You catch a familiar set of eyes, which lose the boredom in them and widen with recognition once they meet yours and he starts walking towards you.

He's beaming by the time he reaches you, as he exclaims, “You’re here!” 

“Hi!” You greet him and then pull him for a quick hug.  

“I’m glad you made it, Y/N.” He smiles down at you, without letting you go, and then gestures around the garage. “Have you looked around?” 

You nod, matching his smile as you look up at him, “A little bit when I came in, it’s crazy out there today?” 

He lets out an affirmative voice. “It’s always like that during a race day. Where are you watching the race from?” 

“The Paddock Club, I think?” You answer him with a small frown. “We watched the quali from there yesterday.” 

He pulls away from you slowly, and begrudgingly, holding your hand and starts to pull you away from the entrance. “I have a better idea.” He walks you towards the front of the garage, stopping right in front of the barriers and asking a crew member for a headset. 

There is a playful smile on his face when he turns to you with them in his hands, which makes your eyes widen with concern. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?” 

He waves his hand, passing the headset to you as he assures, “Of course, it’s the best seat in the house. Plus, it’ll be easier for us to find each other.” 

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” You ask him as you do your best to narrow your eyes. 

“Absolutely, yes.” He nods with excitement. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of my celebrity crush.” 

You giggle in response. “Oh, I know. Max made me watch a video.” 

“He– what?”

“It was a lovely compliment.” You assure him, patting his arm with a sympathetic smile. 

“I’m going to kill–” He begins to say, but one of the engineers call out his name, telling him that they need him before the race. He turns to you with a groan, jumping over the barriers instead of going through the door, which makes you chuckle, and points to you while walking backwards. “We have to talk about this.” 

“We will.” You assure him. Just as you watch him walk by, you call out, “Daniel!”

“Yeah?” He calls back at you. 

“You’re my celebrity crush, too.” 

Instead of answering he winks at you over his shoulder, which makes you giggle. You’re sure that you’re also blushing, but decide not to think about it too much and focus on the race which is starting. You’re on the edge of your seat the entire time, from the start to the second restart to the end. The people around you are not much different, everybody holding their breaths every time one of the cars make a sharp turn. You let out an occasional gasp, or wince throughout the entire race, your hands covering your shocked expression. But, at the end, you’re happy to see that Max is P1 and Checo managed to finish the race in P5. Everyone around you seems to be sharing your opinions, since they are celebrating the good results when you take off your headset. 

Daniel finds you eventually, after speaking with some of the engineers and pit crew, and there is a huge smile on his face as he asks, “So, how’d you like it?” 

“Are you kidding me? It was insane!” You exclaim, using your hands to relay your point. “Eight cars, Daniel, eight cars! That’s crazy!” 

“I get you’ve liked it?” He asks, his eyebrows raising. 

You let out a scoff while shaking your head. “Of course I liked it!” 

“I’m glad you liked it, Y/N.” He smiles, “So, I’m your celebrity crush, huh?”

“Oh please, you already knew it!” You roll your eyes at his smug expression. “I’m wearing your number, aren’t I?”

He shrugs, letting his hands occupy themselves with the end of the hoodie you’re wearing. “And it looks good on you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at your eyes as he asks, “You’re wearing it again today? Isn’t it some sort of fashion crime in Hollywood?”

“Well, I’ve never fit in much anyway.” You shrug, letting a smirk break at your lips. “It might just become my favourite item of clothing, just so you know.” 

“Yeah? I’m happy to hear that.” 

“You should be, I’m very particular about my hoodies.”

He smiles at your comment, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes for some reason. “When is your flight back?”

“Tuesday.” You answer him, suddenly very aware of the fact that you don’t have much time left in Melbourne at all. “But I can be convinced to stay for longer.” 

His eyes widen with surprise, excitement taking over the sad look in record time. “You can? Really?” You nod your head, which makes him pull you closer to him with the hand still holding your hoodie. “Let me take you out on a date.” His eyes seem to beg. 

You nod your head once again, tilting your head backwards to keep your gaze locked to his. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Yes? Are you sure? It’s the point of no return.” There is a playful tone to his voice. 

You roll your eyes, taking off your cap and placing it onto his head. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, ‘honey badger’.” You tease. “Who knows? You might just convince me to say a while longer.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” He echoes your words from earlier. 

[thekrakenlolz]

Start up Fic - Ellie Williams x Reader

part 2

Summary: You switch dorms at your boarding school after you and your girlfriend go through a messy break up and you no longer can handle being roommates with her. Only your new one is a different kind of problem

a/n: I wrote the first chapter only to realize I have no idea what comes next. So here's my plan: if y'all like the set up, you can give me suggestions for what you want to happen next. I basically just laid down the base. So you can read it if you want and see if you have any ideas. But just as a warning, I'm not gonna write smut without a plot, I'm not about that life. I have a vague idea of what I can put next but it's very cliche and overdone sooooo yeah, thanx in advance<3

Also, English is my third language so expect bad grammar

°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-°_*-

Your eyes wandered over the walls as you walked along them. The paint was starting to flake off, revealing the concrete underneath. Your school was old. Like old, old. Like Victorian ages old. Something most of your friends scoffed over, but you personally liked. You thought it gave it character. Of course a little bit of a touch up wouldn't hurt, but bathroom doors that are actually still attached to the stall hinges were overrated anyways.

You were following Miss Jenkins, your housemother, hunched over as you were balancing three of your bags on your back. Uncomfortable, yes, but you were trying to minimize the amount of trips you had to make to move all your shit over to your new dorm. Anything to avoid seeing Samira more than absolutely fucking necessary.

"Here we are" Miss Jenkins sighed, stopping in front of one of the gray doors. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. You were still pissed that you had to put in 4 requests over the duration of 2 months before they finally assigned you a new room, but now she was acting like she was doing you a huge favor. Like taking 15 minutes out of her day was so much to ask for. But you kept it down, thanking her again before opening the door and stepping in.

The lengthy process of actually getting a new room gave you plenty of time to stress over who your new roommate would be. This girl, however, didn't even come to mind. You weren't even sure what her name was, your social circle and her's didn't interact much. E-something? Or was it L?

Mystery girl was sitting at her desk, headphones in, and carefully shading out something in her notebook. You noticed she had tucked her left leg under her, a bad habit you also possessed. She didn't register your presence, her eyes still fixed on the paper. You threw your bags next to your bed, which finally caught her attention. "Oh fuck" she jumped up from the desk and hurried over to your bed, picking up the stuff she dumped on it. "Hello to you too" you mused.

Sweatshirts, textbooks and pencils started flying over onto her bed. "I'm sorry, I thought I had until Sunday to get my shit off your side" She explained, tossing a hairbrush across the small room. You watched it hit the wall and fall down onto her Zelda themed sheets. Cute, you noted. "No worries, take your time, I still have stuff to move over"

So you were back in the hallway, slowly but surely making your way back to your old dorm and with that, to Samira. Now that you were by yourself, you took the time to think about your new roommate. You still didn't know her name but one thing was for certain: she was incredible looking.

Her thick straight auburn hair cut off above the shoulders and her cheeks were densely dotted with freckles. She was very toned, especially in the arms. She was probably in the lacrosse team.

You did notice she was more on the masculine side, so might maybe even be gay. You full stopped, forcing yourself to remember, that's exactly the type of shit that got you in your current situation in the first place. No fucking your roommate, dude, we talked about this.

--------

You took a moment to collect yourself before entering your old room. You drew a breath in, scanning the ugly grey door that separated you and her. 12B the lettering read, touched up with some sharpie. You reached for the knob.

She was sitting at her desk, scrolling on her phone and demonstratively ignoring your presence. You bit down on the inside of your cheek. This wasn't what you expected. Somehow you preferred another stupid fight over this new silence.

You stacked two backpacks on one arm and three bags on the other. The weight made your walk out rather inelegant. You stopped in the doorway. "Goodbye Sami."

You could practically feel her hesitate.

"Bye."

[rafediaries]

INTRODUCING: SAMIRA!

☽ sam. 20s. she/they. mdni. a #lover girl (derogatory). d1 rafe yapper. your favorite proactive person's favorite person.

☽ this is my rafe/obx sideblog! i follow/like from @moff-karna

☽ currently listening to: brent faiyaz, travis scott, don toliver, & kdot

[kentosdoll]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𝑁𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛 headcanons .ᐟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ kento x swana gn!reader

content: fluff, non-specific relationship (it can be platonic or romantic) wc: 421

a/n: this is very self-indulgent, though, i tried my best to make it inclusive of all swana folk; hence it's rather general. for those who aren’t aware, swana stands for south west asia and north africa. it’s a more progressive term compared to “middle east”, the latter being rooted in orientalism.

banner credits:⠀@/dollienini + @/chilumitos

Fights over which type of rice is better — jasmine or basmati. He insists it's jasmine as it’s easier to cook and softer. You retort, claiming it's basmati as it tastes better with curry and stews than jasmine rice.

Introducing Kento to classic artists like Fairuz, Samira Tawfik, Sabah, and Warda (Al-Jazairia). Sometimes you catch him listening to these artists in his spare time whilst sitting at his home desk. Fingers tapping at the wooden table rhythmically whilst trying to mouth the lyrics.

Kento questions why you get onto your hands and knees, Cinderella-style, with an old t-shirt to mop the tiles. After seeing you do this once, he buys you an actual mop so you never have to bend over (or cause injury to your back).

Slowly building up his tolerance to the sweetness of SWANA desserts. He’s not used to it due to Japanese desserts being subtly sweet. Zalabia is the ultimate final dessert boss. However, his friend Satoru happily gobbles those up whenever he pops by your place for afternoon tea.

Teaching him words, phrases, and idioms in your native tongue or second language. Whilst he had trouble with certain letters or digraphs, you bet he randomly uses certain words around you, even occasionally saying them around his friends and colleagues who have no idea what he’s talking about.

One day, you give him a rundown of your family tree before taking him to his first family gathering. It’s all a bit confusing with everyone being your “cousin”, “aunt”, or “uncle”. Some of these people aren’t even related to you; they’re either your grandparents’ cousins or friends of the family from the homeland.

There’s a social gathering (or wedding) coming up soon, and he's your plus one, so you have to teach him how to dance. The poor man is stiff as a wooden board with two left feet. It takes a while for him to learn [insert dance name], let alone loosen his shoulders, but once he's on the dancefloor, he won't leave.

You best believe this man doesn't understand superstitions and why people still follow them. One day you chastise him for dropping silverware, explaining that now there would be a guest at the door of your apartment. There, in fact, was a guest; it was Satoru.

As Kento learns more from you, he soon understands there is more to the SWANA region, unlike what the world and media have taught him. It gives him a deeper appreciation of your culture and helps him rethink unintentional biases.

© 𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜𝑠𝑑𝑜𝑙𝑙⠀ ─⠀ all rights reserved. seek inspiration, do not copy, translate, or redistribute my writing/content.⠀₊˚ෆ

[preciouslandmermaid]

cold secrets, warm light (simon “ghost” riley x f!reader) - part 2/3

Note: This got longer than expected, so now it’s gonna be 3 chapters instead of 2. LMAO.  This takes place in the same universe as cold hands, warm heart and is seen as a continuation of that fic. 

Rating/Warning: Canon typical violence, blood/injury/and minor gore. Thigh grinding and making out.  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) haha ! nice! (also those gloves make me feral)

** All the names of politicians are fake/do not relate to any living or deceased person. I also created 2 entire locations because I don’t want to use the real world lmao. (Al-Qunbar & Noreth)

No use of Y/N. Reader is described as muscular/toned with scars from active combat/torture, and no other descriptors are used.

(Read on Ao3) ||| 🔪🔪🔪

~~~~~~~~~

In the days that follow, you settle into a routine with Ghost and Soap at the safe house. Samira looked after Soap. She attended to his medical needs and physical therapy. He’s a decent patient until his frustration boils over and then he’s huffing like an old goat and crossing his arms. Agathi’s boys worked the farmland. They shovel manure, or prune plants, or tend to the harvest. The security of the safe house is organized into scheduled shifts. The perimeter of the property, the barn, and the house itself are your main concerns.

However, Ghost took over the sniper position at the barn. Instead of following the six-hour schedule, he stayed up there for twelve to fourteen hours. When he returns to the house, he talks to Soap, rests, then returns to the barn without speaking to anyone else. You don’t take it personally. Ghost is a diligent operative. He never wavers. He never falters. You are safer, Lukas is safer, with him here.  

Your nails are encrusted with dark, rich earth from digging up carrots with James and Lukas. Lukas’ favorite task is to unearth food you’ve grown. He smiles brightly, holding aloft potatoes or carrots or stalks of green onions, and you cannot help but smile in return. He is a sweet and tender boy. And its awe inspiring someone so sweet and gentle could come from you. A trained killer. A girl made of ice. A woman without identity, without roots.

You skim your dirty hands across the stalks of tall reeds while walking down the dirt, pebble-strewn road. A lone bird calls out to signal that night is upon them and the predators will awaken soon. Your smile tugs errantly at the corners of your mouth.

The sky is bruising purple and dusky blue. The clouds on the horizon promised rain. You can smell in the air – fresh, biting, and green. You unscrew the cap of your flask and swallow a warm, robust mouthful of black tea. The dilapidated barn leans against a backdrop of dying sunlight like a wounded animal. Sven emerges from the grass with a sheepish smile. His blue eyes dart briefly to the barn loft.

He says, “time for shift change already?”

“I’m early.” You ruffle his stringy, blonde hair. “Go on. Your brother is waiting.”

Sven flushes bright red.  “Thanks.”

You watch him jog down the road with a flashlight in his hand. You check under the tire well of the abandoned truck and find the hidden pistol. You check the safety and clip. You tuck it away again. Price, the thoughtful bastard, managed to arrange a covert supply drop. Ghost collected it earlier in the week. It contained ammunition, infrared lights, night vision scopes, and supplies for Soap and Ghost.

Price can get into serious trouble by his superiors if anyone finds out about it.

You aren’t sure why he keeps sticking his neck out to help you, but you’re grateful. You think of Lukas. You wonder if he suspects anything. Samira often says fondly, ‘it’s as if God took the blueprints of you and made him.’ You don’t see it. And whenever you tell Samira this, she laughs, and her scarred skin stretches with joy.

The wooden ladder creaks when you ascend it. Ghost is perched with his sniper and completely unmoving. Your nostrils itch as the scent of old, dusty hay fills them. You sniffle and wipe your nose with your knuckles.

“All clear,” drawls Ghost.

“Yes, I know. I was just outside.”

Ghost scoffs. You settle crossed legged next to him. You glance at his stark black-and-white profile. His sandy eyelashes flutter against his black-painted skin. Your body hums with acute unspoken desire. You trace the shapes of his tattoos on his forearm. You would give anything to touch him and feel the hot expanse of his skin across your palms. You’ve lain awake in your cold bed, tossing, and turning and coiled with taut desire, and wondered if he’d shun you if you came to find him. But you always manage to talk yourself out of it.

There’s no benefit in complicating matters further. Noreth is at war. You and Lukas can’t leave. Soap and Ghost can’t leave. The best course of action is to lay low and keep safe until extraction. You swallow another gulp of tea and watch the cloudy, star dotted horizon and swaying tall grass.  

“What’re you drinking?”

“Tea.” You wipe your mouth with your fingers.

“Nothing stronger?” He grouses.

“We’ve got vodka back at the house.”

He gives a small shake of his head. “Foul.”

You extend your arm toward him, the flask pinched between your fingers, and Ghost glances sidelong at you. Seconds pass. You’re about to pull it away. But then Ghost reaches and accepts the flask without touching you. You force yourself to look away rather than look at him. You imagine the shape of his lips closing over the mouth of the flask. You imagine his muscled throat shifting when he swallows. You imagine him wiping away a teardrop of tea from the corner of his mouth with his gloved thumb. You wait until you hear the sound of the cap screwing back on before looking at him again.

His mask is pushed up to right below his nose. His jaw is shadowed with dark blonde stubble. You recall how it scratched against your bare skin and left faint, irritated red lines. You avert your eyes.  

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” He mumbles.

You shrug, “things have changed.”

“Have they?” He says and the words are deep and rumbling. You take the flask from him and drink to delay answering his question. Things have changed. You are no longer an intelligence agent. You deserted. You have a child. You have good people relying on you. You have a reason beyond survival to carve a place for yourself in this new world.

“A bit.” You respond vaguely. The silence stretches, weighted and poignant, and you crack your knuckles one finger at a time. It never used to be awkward with Simon. Or has nostalgia completely skewed your perception? Or is it your guilt? Your fingertips touch when you pass the flask again. An electric jolt fires across your skin. You meet his heavily lidded, shadowed eyes. The unsaid words and confessions linger on your tongue. The distance between you is miniscule. It’s mere inches, but it feels like an endless chasm. You risk the danger and shift closer.

His skeletal gloved fingers graze along the feverish skin on your inner wrist.

“We shouldn’t complicate things.” You blurt. Your secret presses on every of your chamber of your heart. His presses his lips together and cocks his head to the side.

“We’re well past that, Lux.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, Ghost.”

The rough texture of his gloves glides up to your shoulder, lightly touching your neck, and you feel his index finger slide under the golden chain of your necklace. Your pulse throbs in your carotid artery. The moth charm twirls, pretty and light, between Simon’s large fingers.

“I’m not saying this to be coy or mysterious, Riley.” When you use his name, his eyes dart from your throat to your face, and you feel every ounce of his attention on you. You feel like a butterfly pinned to a display frame.

A hot and prickly sensation burns in your throat, “I have secrets you’d hate me for keeping.” You whisper.

You swallow with some difficulty. His tongue sweeps across his lower, chapped lip before he pulls his lower lip between his teeth briefly. Your heart stutters.  You force your eyes from his mouth.

“I doubt that very much.” His voice is rumbling, and quiet, and its reverberation echoes into your spine. Your skin burns. Your breath, ragged and warm ,drags itself through your lungs and out your parted lips. You tilt forward and press your forehead against the cool, hard plastic of his mask. Your eyes shutter closed.

Simon says your name longingly. His breath tickles your chin. Your heart pangs to tell him the truth about Lukas, about Al-Qunbar, about Price and his help. Yet, pragmatism pinches your tongue in a vice grip. Lukas’ safety and well-being is everything to you. The less people who know the truth the better.

His lips ghost across yours. His stubble is prickly and rough. Without further prompting or encouragement, you kiss him and slide your tongue between his lips. You tremble and your breath huffs desperately through your nostrils. You hold his jaw. You need him close. You want to wrap your bodies together and remain glued. An overwhelming sensation of bliss floods through your veins. Simon’s tongue moves languidly and tastes of robust black tea. He squeezes the back of your neck, holding you tight and refusing to let you pull away. A heady sense of warmth explodes inside your chest and launches your heart into a tailspin.

You throw your leg over his big thigh, straddling it, and Simon makes a low, pleased sound at the back of his throat. His other hand clutches your hip—tight, possessive, his thumb digs into your flesh. He pitches your hips forward, then pushes back, and you quickly get the idea. You clothed cunt grinds against his muscled thigh. You encircle your arms around his neck, pressed chest-to-chest, and feel Simon’s every rough inhale and exhale. Your original plan to remain distant and uncomplicated has crashed and burned into ash and charcoal.

His tongue flicks obscenely and wetly into your open, panting mouth. “Can you come like this?” He asks, “or do you want my hand, hm? My fingers?” The thought of Simon’s hand shoved between your legs is enough to make your body tighten with anticipation and desire. You wonder if he’ll keep the gloves on.

“We have to keep watch.” You whimper.

He chuckles like deep, dark wine. “I can multitask.”

The temptation threatens to drag you underwater. You are swept into the current  of Simon’s influence and your own intoxicating desire. His warm, rough burr. His large and deliberate hands. His strong, muscled arms and legs. His chiseled abdominal muscles quiver as you push your hands up his shirt and touch his hot, damp skin.

“God,” He drags the word out and tilts his head back to look up at you, “you’re gonna kill me, Lux.”

You smile. You are lost in the deep, coffee color of his eyes shadowed by ashen blonde lashes and smudged with black camo paint. They are the same shade as Lukas’. An arrow of guilt spears your heart. What are you doing? Noreth is at war. You’re on watch. You’ll never forgive yourself if Lukas got hurt because you let your lust overwhelm your logic. You clear your throat.

You say, “we – we should wait until we’re inside.” You climb off his leg and adjust your rumpled shirt. “Okay?”

Ghost licks his lips and watches you with dark, hungry eyes. “I’m a sniper. A few hours is nothing.”

“Great.” You reply, your voice tight, “I’m going to walk the perimeter.”

~~~~~~~~

The walk back to the heaven is tense. It is filled with piping hot anticipation and coated in white foam that tastes like a hopeful dream, a beggar’s wish. Two dimly lit windows peer like eyes onto the dead lawn and black skeletal shape of Kaja’s motorbike.

Simon’s palm glides along your lower back and blistering heat floods your stomach. Your body clenches and your clit throbs with pressure and desire. You’ve thought of nearly a dozen different positions and fantasies during your walk. This is unlike your time with the task force. You don’t need to avoid detection. Neither Samira nor Agathi will judge you. Although, for the sake of those sleeping, you resolve to do your best to stay quiet.

The front door opens to the sound of Lukas crying. Agathi is holding him, bouncing softly, and her tired face looks relieved when you cross the threshold.

“Nightmare.” She explains. Lukas reaches his tiny hands toward you.

“I’ve got him.” You bundle Lukas into your arms and kiss his flushed, sticky-with-tears cheek. You glance apologetically toward Ghost. Perhaps this is for the best. Maybe you shouldn’t sleep together. Maybe this was some unseen force ensuring that you and Ghost remain uncomplicated. Maybe it’s saving you from breaking your heart again. Once Soap is clear, Ghost will leave. You know it. You believe it.  

You sway Lukas in your arms and mutter softly.

~~~~~~~~~

Ghost stands frozen in the doorway. The boy has his eyes. And the realization is like a leech. He cannot shake it. He cannot bear to be in the same room as you and the crying child. The child with his eyes. He stalks down the hall and ducks into the small room arranged for him and Soap.

Soap is asleep. He’s glad for it. He doesn’t want questions. His breath his ragged and edged like shrapnel in his lungs. His skin is flushed and stretched uncomfortably over his bones. You held Lukas sweetly. You kissed his face. You showed him more affection than James or Sven. How did he not see it earlier?

Lukas looks nothing like Sven or James or Agathi. He looks like you. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. You must’ve had a child with someone during your time in Al-Qunbar. He scowls. The maths didn’t add up there either. He guessed Lukas’ age is close to 3. Lukas would be younger if you gave birth to him in Al-Qunbar. Then when? With whom?

He swallows thickly and recalls your short time together. Lukas can’t be his. Can’t be. Can’t. He’s not fit to be a father. He’s a dangerous man. A killer. And a damn good one at that. His palms are sweaty and clammy. He peels off his skeletal gloves and tucks them into the back pocket of his pants. He chews his tongue with his back molars.

If Lukas is yours then he doubts the agency knows. A child is a target. A vulnerability. He starts cleaning one of his guns to keep his hands busy. The gun oil is slick and warm against his fingers. He clears his dry, uncomfortable throat. He thinks about your weighted words in the barn. You mentioned you had a secret. You said it was something he’d hate you for.

His slick, oiled hands move purposefully over the metal. His gaze flicks upward to Soap. He watches his chest breathing evenly beneath the dark sheets. They will stay here for a few weeks and then they’d leave. He can endure it.  

You were never meant to have a reunion. And he is a fool for wishing for anything other than what he got. Regardless of who Lukas belongs to—he’s no one’s father. He’s not destined for a civilian life. He’s comfortable in the danger. He’s comfortable wearing the mask. He likes it too much to walk away.

He can’t go and live on a farm and change nappies. That’s not who he is. And he won’t bring danger to your doorstep. But he doesn’t want to say goodbye again. He doesn’t want you to disappear. Ghost sighs heavily and sets the pistol on his bouncing knee.

He needs to talk to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It took an hour to get Lukas back to sleep. You settle into one of the wooden chairs on your small, porch balcony outside your bedroom and watch the darkness and swaying grass. You roll the night vision scope between your palms and feel the roughed, grip texture. You peer through it ever-so-often toward the barn. You consider joining Kaja, but you don’t want to leave Lukas in case he has another nightmare.

A floorboard creaks. The smell of gun oil permeates the air. Ghost sits in the chair beside you.

He asks, “what’s the story between the kids here? They got family on the outside?”

You bite your lip. “Not really.”

“What about their dad?”

“Agathi’s husband is dead.” You explain.

Ghost rests his elbows on his knees, “and the small one?”

You chose your next words carefully. “He’s alive. I tell him his dad is a soldier working hard to keep everyone safe.”

Ghost stares at you, unblinking, and his gaze is like holding a lit cigar to your skin.

“That the truth?” says Ghost gruffly.

The crickets chirp, a chorus, a symphony, lonely and desperate for connection.

“The truth would hurt everyone, ” You shrug.

“It would hurt him.” You look meaningfully over your shoulder toward Lukas’ bedroom door adjacent to your room.

Simon’s tone is commanding and harsh as nails, “tell me the truth.”

You squeeze your eyes closed. A swirl of black and purple spots spin on the canvas of your eyelids. You had hoped to avoid this conversation. But Simon has connected the dots and you played your hand too heavily when you told him you carried a guilty secret.

“Do you remember Al-Qunbar?” You ask.

He hums, “Mhm.”

It was the last place you and Ghost met. A city of dust and smoke, a marble fountain that gurgled with blood.

“I was Qadir’s mistress,” you begin, referring to the politician that governed Al-Qunbar, “that was my cover. It was not uncommon in their culture for people of power, regardless of gender, to have multiple partners or spouses. And they considered multiple children as a sign of virility and good fortune.”

You inhale slowly. This is the part of the story that is like traversing a minefield. You’ve imagined telling him, but never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d get the chance.

“Qadir had many children. But his regime was unstable. I begged him to send the children away. I groveled.” Your voice quivers and tears sting your eyes like wasps. You bite down on your lower lip and compose yourself.

“Qadir refused. He said we’d all go together in the end. He gave poison disguised as medicine to his wives, his mistresses, his personal guards…his children…his children…”

You knew those children. You cared for them. You scrub a hand over your face. Finding the courage to topple dictators or stare at the barrel of a loaded gun is easy. But looking at Simon is impossible. You focus on a spot in the dark, starry horizon. The high grass that surrounds your property sways like whispering dancers.

“I knew I couldn't’ save them all, so I chose Lukas.”

“Samira helped. She was Qadir’s midwife and served in his military as a doctor. The day Qadir was assassinated, I got Lukas out, but I couldn’t leave Al-Qunbar. Not yet. The extremists, the loyalists, the American agents. None of them could know he was alive. I need to make it seem like everyone in Qadir’s family perished in the uprising.”

The wooden chair creaks like an old ship underneath Simon’s weight.

“You were the one who torched his compound.” He says. It’s not a question. You wonder if he read the file. You wonder if anyone told him your undercover name and saw you were listed under ‘killed in action’. You wonder if Price mentioned his part in helping you escape from under the thumb of imperialism.

You nod. You burned Qadir’s house, and all the bodies within, and fled. You earned yourself a deep wound from a sniper at the town square before you reunited with Ghost’s team.

Simon scoffs, “I think you’re a bit of an arsonist, Lux.”

You recognize his attempt at humor, but you can’t summon the energy to smile. You’ve told him the background, you’ve set the stage, but you haven’t brought the main actors into the play. You haven’t revealed the truth.

Your voice scratches as it travels up your throat. “I told Qadir the baby was his, but the timing was off.”

“He’s yours, Simon.” You finish weakly and your heart capsizes inside your chest, “he’s ours.”

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look away. The mask hides everything from you and his eyes are guarded and cold. He will hate you. You are sure of it. He will hate you for lying, for not contacting him, for keeping Lukas.

You lift the night vision scope to your face to hide your hurt expression.

~~~~~~~~~

“Shit!” You jolt upright, blood pounds in your ears, and your eyes swivel across the black landscape. You peer through the night vision binoculars to assure you saw Kaja’s signal accurately. You’re not mistaken. She flashed her infrared twice. Trouble.

“What is it?” Ghost is beside you, alert.

“Kaja is in trouble.”

He huffs. You think there’s a question poised in his eyes, but then a burst of gunfire illuminates the darkness like white fireworks. You drop like a stone into fight-or-flight. You run into the adjoining bedroom and scoop Lukas into your arms, waking him, and he cries – startled – in your arms. There is nothing inside your head beyond the checklist of tasks you must complete for your sons’ safety.

“It’s alright, lovey. It’s just a storm.” You assure him.

You barrel down the hallway. James and Sven step into the hallway with Agathi clutching their shoulders. You swerve pass them, taking the steps hurriedly, your heartbeat thundering in your ears and drowning out the sounds of Lukas’ tears and the encroaching gunfire. You don’t bother to look behind you or check for Ghost. He doesn’t know the household protocol, but he can handle himself in a fight. You aren’t worried about him.

“If you get out of that wheelchair, I’ll kill you myself.” Samira snaps. She shoves a loaded shotgun into Soap’s hand. “Protect the little ones.”

You duck into the basement. The door is heavily fortified, and along with supplies, the back left corner equipped with an escape tunnel.

“Alright, there, there, sweet boy.” You kiss the side of Lukas’ head, “it’s going to be alright.” You bounce in him in your arms, kissing and repeating platitudes, promising him that everything will be OK. You never expected motherhood to come equipped with so many desperate lies.

Agathi opens her arms for him.

Lukas’ little fingers cling to your neck, unintentionally scratching, and he is grabbing your shirt, red-faced and screaming. You pry him off. Your heart breaks. Your mouth is dry. You swallow your tears as Agathi cradles your son to her chest and rocks him. Her steely blue eyes meet yours—fierce, red-rimmed, and determined. You share a meaningful, wordless look. You’ve always known the role you would play if shit hit the fan. Agathi and Samira are the protectors.

And you?

You’re the fucking executioner.

“Be safe.” James says, squeezing your hand once before you hurry upstairs. The second your foot hits the landing, Samira shuts the door and extinguishes her lamp. In near-darkness, Sven tosses a body armor vest toward you. You clip it hastily, grabbing equipment from the case, and affixing it to your body. You grab a few extra throwing knives and tuck them into the holster on your chest.

Ghosts’ footfalls are quick and deceptively quiet as he comes downstairs, “counted five approaching.”

“There’s likely more with Kaja.” Samira says knowingly, pinning her dark hair away from her face and scowling.

“What’s the plan?” asks Soap.

“Defend the house.” You nod toward the basement door, “this door especially. If there’s any risk of breaching, hit the switch here, and they know to get the fuck out.”

You walk confidently backwards and toward the door, “if I don’t come back—assume I’m dead and don’t come looking for me.”

You spin on your heel and slip through the partially ajar door. You knew the conflict would eventually reach your doorstep, but you wish it hadn’t happened when you had so much to lose inside. Their flashlights cut through reeds of tall grass and flicker like ghosts across the lawn. They’re shouting at each other in Noreth’s native language. You’re not fluent, but you get an idea of the instruction, and you weave through the grass. Your fingers curl around the knife’s grip.  

A low hum of insects buzz around your sweaty face and tall grass whispers as you move through it. You sharpen your focus. The moon illuminates the silent battlefield in a ghastly, blue-white subdued glow. You taste salt on your lips. You cling onto the memory of Simon’s warm, deep eyes. If you died here, or fucked it up, he’d never let you hear the end of it.

You catch your breath in your lungs. You attack, swift and deadly, your knife plunging wetly into your target’s chest. You vanish into the grass, crouched low, and using the light breeze to your advantage. You move with the wind, in bleached moonlight, and you strike down his partner before the others notice. The assailants approaching the front yard were easy. They spread themselves thin, they were too jumpy, and they held their rifles awkwardly. You surmised based on their gait and posture that they were newer—likely fresh recruits.

The three approaching the back entrance wouldn’t be so simple. They move cohesively with experience. You weigh your odds. You can kill one, but the other two will engage with you. If this had been any other mission, you would divert their attention slowly, pick them off using traps and tricks. However, the sands of time are pouring through your fingers, and you’ve got people inside to protect. A man you want to talk to, a child you want to raise, a friend you need to see again.

You test the weight of the throwing knife in your palm. It’s risky. But what choice do you have? These fuckers likely have reinforcements at the barn. Kaja is in danger. You grit your jaw and find the best position among swishing grass and damp, spongy earth.

You wait for the flashlight to illuminate his partner. Your knife spins in the dark, twirling, unseen and the target exclaims a short – “Ah!” as the blade sticks into the meat of his shoulder.

It’s off-mark. You leap to the second target, spry and agile. You are a weapon of death, a herald of doom. Your knife cuts across his throat in brutal efficiency and soaks your wrist in hot blood. You pivot, tucking your arm, and use the target’s body as a meat shield as they fire several rounds at you. You count the bullets.

He spasms and jerks against you as bullets whiz by and you wait for the reload. They might be experienced, but they’re spooked enough to fire all their ammunition simultaneously. You drop the body the second you hear the resounding click of an empty chamber. You draw your silenced pistol. Your last resort. Your breath catches in your lungs.

There’s only one man in front of you. You fire your shot. It goes through your target’s throat. He gurgles wetly, painfully, before falling backward. You scan the area for the threat, the missing attacker, but suddenly something hits you in the back of the skull.

Sharp and biting pain blossoms and stars dance in front of your vision. Their forearm wraps around your throat, pinning you to their chest, the muzzle of their sidearm pistol against your temple. Your time off the field has made you sloppy. Overconfident. Careless. You mentally berate yourself and plant your feet to try and throw him off before he can pull the trigger.

A bullet rings through the darkness. A torrent of hot blood and chunks of bone splatters wetly onto your cheek and side of your head. Your target collapses into you and you roughly shoulder him away. Half of his skull is missing and his brains and blood gushes over the marshland.

You look toward the house. You can’t see Ghost’s sniper scope in the darkness, but you feel it. You feel him watching. You holster your gun. You walk away from the house and toward the barn. To Kaja. To finish your hunt.

~~~~~~~~~

Ghost watches the flashlights disappear from your window. He has every intention of providing cover fire with his sniper—if you need it. He is watching you through the scope, remembering Spain, and his cold heart pangs weakly. He isn’t sure how he feels about you. He wants to be angry for keeping secrets. But, that’s bollocks, isn’t it? You both come from special ops backgrounds, from troves of classified files, and hell—his identity has been a secret for years. You don’t even know what he looks like. The kid’s got my eyes. There’s some small part of him that carries on throughout the world and you’re the only two people who know about it.

He doesn’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to being angry. You made the right call. You kept the kid—Lukas—safe. His kid. Ghost’s throat threatens to tighten. He shoves it down. The feeling smolders inside his chest. It’s not like it matters. You’ll go your separate ways once Soap is cleared to evac. Assuming everyone lives after this evening, he thinks wryly. He adjusts his hold on his sniper and breathes deeply.

A burst of gunfire crackles in the distance. He swings his scope to the swaying reeds. One of the targets have veered off into the darkness while the other fills his dead friend with bullets. He catches brief flashes of your body, hunched, before you duck from beneath cover and stand—your form exquisite and lethal. A muted flash appears before the muzzle of your gun.

The second target appears from the darkness and grapples you. Ghost holds his breath. His finger hovers over the trigger. The pistol touches your skin. He imagines it firing. He imagines your body going inert and dropping like a sack of rocks into the strangers’ arms. His jaw clenches. He has seconds to react. The targets’ face hovers next to yours.

He fires. An explosion of blood and brain and bone spews around your head. You knock the body contemptuously away and somehow manage to meet his eyes through the rifle scope. Ghost’s heart thumps painful and hard into his ribs. You’re half-covered in someone else’s blood like the final girl in a slasher horror film. He thinks of kissing you. You turn and vanish into the darkness. He releases the breath he was holding.

Samira swings into the room, hand clutching the doorframe, “Ghost.” She says, “I need you to go to the barn.” Her tone brokers no argument. Despite that, however, he still says…

“Why?”

“Kaja’s not back yet which means she didn’t escape.”

“How’d you know?”

Samira huffs, “we have a system of triggers and alarms and codes. She hasn’t signaled the all-clear.”

“Could mean she’s dead.”

Her gaze darkens, “they do not often kill women in Noreth. They make them suffer first. Go. An order, Ghost. It’s an order.”

He dislikes taking orders from her, but Samira has your trust, and that means something. And although you claim you don’t have a hierarchy at the haven, it’s clear they look to you for leadership, and Samira is your second.

His head is still fucked from everything. But he’s thankful for the clarity of battle—of conflict and fighting—it gives him something to focus on. He follows the tracks you made through the grass. The air smells like car exhaust fumes, and gun smoke, and dark, damp earth.

“Leave her alone!” Your voice jabs into his gut like a well-placed and serrated knife. Ghost moves silently through the brush. His blood is hot and pounding in his neck.

The glaring headlamps of their truck illuminates your bruised face. Your teeth glisten wet and red. There is more blood covering you, but he can’t tell what’s yours and what isn’t. Someone has you pinned to the ground, your hands behind your back, and your legs are pinned by a second body. The man in front of you drops to a crouch and speaks lowly. Ghost doesn’t hear what he says. Your gaze hardens and your lips press into a tight line.

Your eyes move past the man speaking to you. Your gaze strikes his through the blades of swaying grass and encroaching, tall weeds. Your eyes are red-rimmed and filled with vengeful tears like the oil-painting of Lucifer.

“Bring them both in!” The man pinches your jaw roughly, his tone scathing, “You will sing like a songbird for me, little viper.”

Your jaw shifts. You spit a bloody glob of salvia into his face.

“Bitch!” He yells. He back-hands you, and you head lolls sideways into the dirt, wheezing, a fresh cut blooms on your lower lip. Rage burns through him, hot and corrosive, across every limb, every nerve, until he’s certain the dry vegetation around him is going to burst into flames. He’s never wanted to tear somebody limb-from-limb before. Not ‘till this moment.

He’s shaking. He realizes it almost distantly, like he’s not inside his body, like he’s viewing everything from a sniper’s scope but he’s without his calculated, cold ease. A voice inside his head informs him of the amount of bullets he has, the target locations, and the cover the barn could provide.

Kaja’s lilting voice appears from somewhere near the back of the truck—her words are thick with phlegm and barely distinguishable—but Ghost can tell she’s begging. He can hear it in her tone, how she sobs around the broken syllables. It’s not you who will break. It’s Kaja. Young, inexperienced Kaja. Another voice inside his head tells him he needs to silence her before she blows his cover or more importantly, your cover and the safety of Lukas. There’s only one target with Kaja and his back is to the shadows. Big mistake.

He shifts into the dark, lush undergrowth. He circles around the barn. You’re still goading the leader. He suspects you’re doing it to keep the focus away from Kaja, to take her pain, because you know she’s fragile and you’re trained to take it. He hears your brusque, insulting tone and it is nearly always followed with the sharp, biting sound of his skin striking yours. His heartrate skyrockets.

He’s shaking again. He bites his lower lip, tasting copper and salt, and it forcefully yanks him back to reality. He creeps through the darkness. He strikes. His large palm covers the target’s mouth, dragging him backward into the shadows, he snaps his neck quickly and efficiently. He drags the body into the grass and approaches the truck bed where Kaja is tied with a black canvas bag over her head.

“Please!” She’s trembling. “We’re just a little farm! We’re not rebels!”

Ghost yanks the bag over her head. She meets his gaze with glossy, frightened eyes. He motions one finger to his mouth. He doesn’t have time to cut the ropes that dig into her bony, bird-like wrists. He grabs her and pulls her from the truck. The weight is shifted and the springs beneath the back tires groan and squeak.

His blood curdles with the abrupt sound of your scream when his boots hit the grass. Every instinct in him wants to—to drop Kaja and fire every bullet into the men that circle you like hungry lions. He resists. If you’re screaming, then it’s part of the act. You wouldn’t give these slimy assholes the satisfaction. He believes that.

He drags Kaja into the darkness.

“We need to go back!” She whispers harshly when they’re several minutes away from the barn, “untie me. We need to save her.”

Ghost says nothing.

<< Part Three (Final) >> 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAG LIST: @k1llerch4n // idk why sometimes it looks like it works and othertimes it DONT.    @iwantmethgivememeth // @levisbebe // @solidly-indulgent​ 

[tragedybunny]

꧁༺League of Legends Fanfiction Masterlist ༻꧂

༺ The Blade's Edge - League of Legends Long fic - Swain x Katarina - NSFW ༻

Blade of Noxus - Prequel to The Blade's Edge

A failed assassination attempt, a proposition she couldn't refuse, a temptation he couldn't resist. How Katarina came to be employed by the Grand General of Noxus.

༺ The Blade's Edge ༻

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

༺ Swain x Katarina - NSFW ༻

Touch of the Demon - Katarina wants to see exactly what the demon can do and Swain obliges.

The Bargain - An AU - ish fic where Katarina initiates a scheme to get away from her family just before the invasion of Ionia.

A Soldier's Discipline - Katarina has failed the Grand General and she must be punished

A Soldiers Discipline II - Katarina finds herself once again in need of absolution

༺ Swain x Katarina - SFW ༻

Moments - A fluffy little drabble of a soft Swain/Kat interaction

Loneliness - Swain missing his wife

Puppy! - Just a little crack fic featuring a puppy

Naming Day - Swain wants to do something special for his wife Katarina, but finds out it is easier thought than done.

Have You Ever Wanted Something, So Badly You Cannot Breathe? - Based on the final issue of the Katarina comic on Webtoon. written from Swain's point of view.

Swain comes to Kataria's aide as Marcus attempts to destroy his vision for Noxus. But the Empire isn't the only thing Swain is worried about, and he finds himself at a loss on how to manage the sudden longing he feels for another.

༺ League of Legends NSFW ༻

What She Needs - Ahri and Vlad are both Seniors at the Academy. Vlad has something she needs, Ahri has something he wants.

༺ League of Legends SFW ༻

Home - Katarina x Lux - They discover something more in each other than t hey ever thought possible.

Inner Demons - A Swain - Sylas Lore Fusion. Prompt from Curious Cat.

Darkin Reunion - Aatrox and Varus and reunited as they both have a homecoming.

Storm - A Katarina x OC Drabble I wrote for the 150 follower giveaway.

You've Always Felt Like Home to Me - Swain x Marcus Du Couteau - Swain has a lot of feelings about his oldest friend Marcus Du Couteau that he’s not really sure how to sort out. But tonight it looks like he’ll have to figure them out at last.

Her Light - Katarina x Lux - A poem about a very happy ending for Lux and Katarina

Performance - Jhin x GN! Reader - A reader with a crush gets to experience one of Jhin’s special performances. 

After the Mist - Katarina x Samira - Samira and Katarina are reunited after the black mist appears in Noxus. Set after the Ruination trailer.

Sacrificial - Aatrox x F!Reader - Reader is left in Aatrox’s path. The result will surprise them both.

It Can't Be Without You - Darius x Swain - Darius has a bittersweet musing on his feelings for Jericho at a dark moment.

It Won't Be Without You - Darius x Swain - A sequel to “It Can’t be Without You”. Darius recovers from a battle wound with Swain at his side

Alliance - Swain X Vladimir - Swain and Vlad have a tense conversation

No Turning Back - Draven X Riven - They are reunited after so long apart

Checkmate - LeBlanc x Swain - LeBlanc Has Won Their Grand Game

The Festival - Crystal Rose Swain x GN!Reader - A short little fluff piece.

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter three

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: bar hopping, damsels in drunken distress, and a late night heart to heart. (5.1k)

warnings: swearing, alcohol, lando talks about the hungarian gp shitshow

a/n: yes this is me maybe slightly projecting my feelings about hungary onto my characters okay! they're my barbie dolls to play with i can do whatever i want 😌↕️ anyways hope u enjoy <3

previous chapter | masterlist

“Hello? Are you even listening?” 

You blink, bringing yourself back to reality and back to the current conversation. Your friends are looking back at you with matching concerned, albeit a little annoyed expressions. “What? Sorry, I was—I’m here, sorry. What’s going on?” 

Samira tuts, but not unkindly. They all know you’ve got a million things running in your mind at the moment. “I was saying our dinner reservations got canceled. Something about the kitchen having to close down for maintenance, I dunno. Anyways, it frees us up tonight and we’re trying to figure out what to do instead.” 

“Oh. We could stay in? Order some food, watch a movie?” 

“I know what we need,” Camille gasps suddenly, eyes lighting up like she’s just had a brilliant idea. “We’re going bar hopping tonight.” 

“Bar hopping? We haven’t done that since—” You pause, taking a moment to think. You haven’t been bar hopping since Samira got dumped by her girlfriend a few months back, the time before that when Maren finally cut ties with her situationship last year. The only time you all go bar hopping is after a breakup. They think what happened with Lando is the same as breaking up with a partner. “Guys, seriously, I’m fine. He was never even my boyfriend anyways!” 

“Say what you want, but you’ve been super out of it these past few days. You need to let loose, do something that makes you stop thinking of Lando and start thinking about yourself again.”  

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “I think about myself plenty.”

Camille rolls her eyes at you. “I mean not in that mopey, sad ‘I say everything is fine even though it’s not’ way. There’s more fish in the sea than Lando. Find one, or don’t, it’s up to you. But you need to forget about him.” 

Your lips press into a thin line as you sink back into your seat.

You don’t want another fish in the sea. You want the weird little crab with the cute accent and the sparkly eyes, the one you’ve already let back into the water.

The one you can’t have. 

Things haven’t been too awkward with Lando yet, but they definitely aren’t the same. Two people who really like each other but have decided to remain friends doesn’t really scream smooth sailing from now on to you. The wound is still fresh, and there are hints of it as you spend more time with the guys. 

Immediately filling the empty seat next to each other like it’s second nature but then having to awkwardly scoot away when your shoulders bump or your hands brush. Lingering glances across tables and rooms until one of you breaks and looks away first. Finding him first in a place full of other people and drifting towards him, only to come to your senses and switch up directions at the last moment. 

You wish you could say forgetting Lando would be easy. It really isn’t—not when your friend groups have basically melded into one big one, and everyone gets along so well. It would’ve been easier if you’d gone your separate ways, but you don’t think your heart would’ve liked that very much. Not that it enjoys skipping a beat every time you catch Lando’s eyes on you a little too long either. 

You wrinkle your nose, brows following. “I’m sad and mopey?” 

“A little bit.” 

“Okay, fine. Fine, let’s go bar hopping,” You concede, letting your shoulders drop. 

If you’re going to get over him, you might as well start right now. 

That’s how you end up in bar number one of the night, four tequila shots on the bar table in front of you. You eye the unassuming little glass warily, even as each of your friends snatch one up eagerly. 

Samira, as if sensing your hesitation, nudges yours toward you. “It’s one shot, babe. It won’t kill you.” 

“I know that,” You insist, throwing your shoulders back. “I just…need a second.” 

“Take all the time you need. We’re going all night.” 

Tonight isn’t about your feelings for Lando. Tonight is about you moving on, moving past what could’ve been with him and looking forward to what might come next. With or without him. 

You hold up your shot towards them, grinning big. “Here’s to moving forward, and making memories that’ll last a lifetime!” 

Clinking your glass against all of theirs, you throw back the clear liquid as smoothly as you can, only wincing a little bit at the burn of it going down your throat. It isn’t your usual drink of choice, but change has to start somewhere, right? 

-------

As far as bars go, this one isn’t the worst one you’ve been to tonight, but the fun has started to wear off for you. You’d stopped drinking around bar number two, the buzz of your much tamer drink choices after those first few shots starting to die down bit by bit. On the other hand, your friends are still going full steam ahead. You’ve honestly lost track of how many drinks they’ve had at the bars you’ve hit tonight, but they’re holding on pretty well. 

“Fuck boys!” Samira exclaims, slamming another shot glass down onto the table with gusto. Maren and Camille agree wholeheartedly with identical slurred ‘yeah, fuck ‘em!’s that make you chuckle into your glass of water. 

You know they’re just trying to make you feel better about your decision, and in a way, it helps. You’d finally been able to talk about what went down that afternoon without feeling an indescribable rush of guilt, and although they were disappointed at first, it became less when you’d told them why. They’re your best friends, and they know you better than anyone, so they know for a fact Lando’s lifestyle was not the one for you. 

Tonight was supposed to be all about forgetting your feelings, but as the night went on longer and your inhibitions became lower, you still couldn’t help but think about Lando. That mental box you’d put him has burst wide open already. 

You’re a little embarrassed to admit it, but you’d done a little research on him after getting home, which turned into a deep dive of his career, his life, anything that piqued your interest in him. You were curious to know what a guy like him saw in someone like you. 

It felt a little weird to see him outside the Lando you’ve gotten to know him as, because he seemed…different. He’s still the same sweet guy you know, but on video he’s a more tame version of himself. 

Carefully chosen words and shy smiles, he wears his confidence like a suit of armor on camera, to protect himself against the world. Here, he’s all bursting grins and loud belly laughs, unfiltered and so, so happy. He seems so normal, it’s hard to remember that he’s not just your everyday guy. Lando is one of the best and well known racing drivers in the whole world.

Making sure to separate the two is important if you want to stay firm in your decision. 

Somehow it hits nearly four in the morning, and it’s about high time you make the executive decision to call it quits and go home. The only problem is, you’re the only semi-sober one out of the four of you. You have the car, but you don’t trust yourself to drive in this state. None of your friends are in any shape to be of any help either, not when Maren is nearly passed out on the tabletop, and Camille and Samira drunkenly swaying with each other right next to you. 

You don’t really trust any rideshares at this time of night in an unfamiliar place, and even then, there’s no way you can get them all home by yourself. There’s only one other thing you can think of, one other person you can call to help you out. The one person you were hoping to not have to call. 

The moment your finger hits Lando’s number, you have half a mind to hang up. You’re about to, but then the line connects. 

“Yeah, what?” Lando’s voice is gravelly, thick with sleep. A little grumpy. Of course he’s grumpy, it’s nearing three in the morning and he was probably asleep. You feel bad that you've woken him up, but you couldn't think of anything else. 

“Lando? I’m so sorry to be calling you this late, I just didn’t know what else to do.”

Immediately, he sounds more alert when your name leaves his lips. “Is everything alright? What’s up?” 

You gnaw on your lip in contemplation until he says your name again, gentler this time. “We’re at a bar in town and the girls are really drunk and we need to get home, but I had a few drinks too so I didn't think I should drive. And I tried to call an Uber but at this time of night I don’t—” 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I can come pick you up.” He interrupts your rambling and you're grateful for it, because the more you talk the more you think this was a bad idea. You’re asking him for too much, you're stretching the limits of an already awkward friendship too far, you're— “Just tell me where you are, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. Drop me your location and stay there.” You can hear rustling on his end of the line, pounding on a door, someone’s groggy voice saying something you can’t make out. Then Lando’s voice fills your ear again, soft yet firm. “Hang tight, ‘kay? Be there soon.” 

“Thank you so much,” You breath, truly grateful. He hangs up, and you can finally let out a breath of relief. Lando is coming. You won’t be stranded here. 

Lando jumps out of the car as soon as it pulls to a stop in front. He’s got on some nondescript jumper with the hood pulled up over his head and a random pair of joggers, and he definitely doesn’t look like he’d just been roused from his sleep. In fact, seeing him all disheveled with worry like this is kind of doing it for you. 

You’re in the middle of apologizing again when Lando crashes into you, arms wrapping around you tighter than you’re expecting, nearly squeezing the breath out of you. You meet Max’s eyes over his shoulder, who you’d just realized was also here, and he doesn’t look surprised at all. He looks rather smug, actually. 

“Are you okay?” Lando holds you at arms length, worried eyes scanning you for anything out of place, any injury. Other than your pride, you remain unharmed. Though that pesky fluttery feeling in your stomach is back again, as is the warmth in your chest, and it isn’t from the alcohol. 

His hood has fallen off from the force of his hug to reveal the tornado of curls on his head, flat on one side from his pillow most likely, as are the lines on his face from what was probably a good night’s sleep. Until you called, that is. 

You blink at him, caught off guard by the amount of care he still seems to have for you. It feels like an impossible feat to tear your gaze away from his. “Yes? I mean, yeah, I’m fine. You—wow, you got here fast.” 

“I thought maybe something—nevermind.” He cranes his neck around you to glance at your half asleep friends on the bench. “Are…they okay?” 

“Yeah, they’re fine. Tequila, y’know?” You shrug. 

Max lets out a snort of laughter from where he’s wandered over to check on them, waving a hand in front of Samira’s face. She swats at him halfheartedly, mumbling a sleepy, “Fuck off, Fewtrell.” 

“Sorry to wake you too, Max.” 

“Oh no, you didn’t wake me. He did.” He juts his chin over at Lando, who still has a hand around your elbow. You can’t help but let your eyes drop down to it, and Lando does too, inhaling sharply before letting go. Still, the warmth from his grip lingers. “And not very nicely might I add.” 

“I had to get you up quick!”

“You nearly took my head off with a pillow, you dickhead!” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want a kiss on the forehead?” Lando snorts. 

“Not from you!” 

“Come off it already, won’t you?” Lando turns his attention back to you instead, rolling his eyes playfully when he finds you stifling a giggle behind your palm. “You said you had your car?” 

“Um, yeah, it’s around the corner. We can just leave it here, I’ll circle back and pick it up in the morning.” 

Lando clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “It’ll probably be stripped for parts by tomorrow. How bout we split up? Two and two?” 

“Well, we all know who you want,” Max says knowingly. It makes your cheeks flame hot and Lando’s flush pink, but Max doesn’t waver in his shit eating grin. For some reason, you find his candid bluntness refreshing, even if it is poking fun at what’s going on (or not going on) between Lando and yourself. “You guys take Maren in your car, I’ll take these two and meet you at your house.” 

Max manages to coax Camille and Samira to their feet with little trouble, and before you know it they’re off, leaving you alone with Lando and a very sleepy Maren. He rocks back on his heels, biting the inside of his cheek awkwardly, like he’s not sure what to do. 

“Should we—” 

“I think—” Lando bites back a laugh, gesturing for you to speak first. 

“We should probably get going.” 

“Right. Let’s get her in the car then, yeah?” 

You couldn’t be less well versed in cars if you tried, but even you know the one Lando came to your rescue in is expensive. You’re almost too reluctant to even sit in it. But then Lando’s hand touches softly against the small of your back as he pulls open the door without hesitation, and you have no choice but to help Maren in. 

Not like you had much of a choice anyways, what with him being the knight in shining armor to your damsel in distress call. 

“Did you have fun? Before having to play mum to the girls, I mean.” Lando asks a little while later, not taking his eyes off the road. 

You blow out a deep breath, sinking back into the plush leather of the passenger seat. The soft smoothness is heaven on your skin. “Kinda. The first few drinks, at least. Felt a little out of place, honestly.” 

“What, you didn't charm some guy the same way you charmed me?” Silence fills the car like cement as soon as the words leave his mouth. A pang of something sharp shoots through you, something akin to hurt that flashes through your chest but is gone a second later. 

No, you shouldn’t feel hurt. You’re the one who hurt him. Even though he’s told you over and over that it’s okay, it’s fine, he understands your decision, Lando has every right to express his true feelings, no matter how it makes you feel. 

“Sorry, that was—that came out wrong. I just meant—” 

“I know what you meant,” You say quietly. He wants to know if you met someone else, and the answer is no. No, you didn't meet another guy, because all you could think about was him. But you’re just friends. You’d made certain of it. So why did you feel like you’d done something wrong? “I didn’t meet anyone else.” 

“Oh. Cool.” 

“Is it?” 

A muscle in his jaw clenches as he swallows thickly, nodding. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you want. What you’re looking for.” 

“I don’t think I’m looking for anything right now,” Your voice is soft, nearly a whisper. 

I’m not looking for something that isn’t you, you could add. You don’t. It wouldn’t do anything other than hurt him, and yourself, even more. 

The rest of the ride home is basically silent, and Max is waiting on the sofa with the other two when you finally get there, entertaining a story that Camille is telling not unlike one would with a child, uh huh-ing and wow, that’s so cool-ing until he realizes you’re finally here. 

You take over from then, thank him profusely yet again when he says he’s going to head home, before corralling all three girls into the bathroom like a zookeeper with their animals. 

One by one, you help each of your friends through an abridged version of their night routines until they’re all ready for bed, and then you tuck them into the same bed as best you can. You’ve relegated yourself to the floor with a littering of pillows for the night. It’ll be easier to get to them if they need anything during the night if you’re all in the same room. 

You’re surprised to see Lando in the doorway once you’ve gotten them all settled in for the night. You thought he'd left with Max, but apparently not.  

He glances up as he hears you approach, frowning. “You’re gonna sleep on the floor?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, it’s fine. I can keep an eye on them that way. You can, erm, you can go home now. Go back to sleep.” 

“No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’ll sleep through the night. Plus, you must be knackered too. You should get some rest, yeah?” You want to say no, but your body’s response betrays you in that moment, because you yawn big, and it makes him chuckle. “Come on. Sleep in your own bed. I’ll watch over them.” 

“No way.” You shake your head insistently, despite the enticing offer. “You’ve already done more than enough, Lando, I can’t ask you to stay up all night. I’ve got them covered.” 

“You shouldn’t either.” He shoots back, chin tilting up in challenge. You match him as best you can with your eyes growing heavier and heavier by the moment, and eventually, he backs down, hands up in mock surrender. “How ‘bout we take shifts? The living room’s right across the hall, if we camp out there and anyone makes a racket, whoever’s up will be able to hear them.” 

You twist your lips to the side in thought. “Deal. I call first watch though.” 

“I can live with that. Why don’t you go freshen up, or something?” 

“Is that your way of telling me I stink?” 

Lando’s eyes glint with mirth, teasing smile curling his lips. “Maybe.” 

“Well, maybe you don’t smell too good either!” That’s a total lie. He actually smells really nice, a mixture of remnants of his heady cologne from the day and something fresher, a little citrusy. His soap, maybe? 

A hot shower certainly does wonders to sober you up the rest of the way, and as you’re toweling your hair dry enough to where it won’t be dripping water down your shirt, you take a good look at yourself in the fogged up mirror. 

This is fine. You can spend a night alone with Lando without feeling anything towards him. You can do this. You’ve done harder things than this. 

Lando’s frowning at something on his phone when you make your way back into the living room, scowling like whatever’s on the screen has personally wronged him. It isn’t the first time you've noticed his demeanor turn sour like this, and your concern is piqued each time. 

You clear your throat as if to announce your presence, offering him a small smile when his head whips up. “Hi. Is everything okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s just work.” He tosses his phone on the coffee table, dragging a hand forward through his curls, mussing up the front before raking them back. It doesn’t seem to do anything but make them messier, but you suspect it’s more of a nervous habit than anything.

He smiles back at you as you sit a respectable distance away from him on the sofa, though even that looks entirely forced. Something is wrong, and it’s eating away at him. 

“Look, I know things aren't how they used to be with us, but I hope you know I’m still here for you. You can always talk to me if you need to.” 

Lando gnaws on his bottom lip, head tilting from side to side like he's unsure. “Really? You’d do that for me?” 

“Friends are there for each other.” 

He blows out a deep sigh, sinking back against the pillows like a deflated balloon. “Yeah? You’re sure?” 

“I’m a good listener, remember?” You nudge his knee with yours gently. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” 

He isn’t ready right away. For a little while, you sit in silence. You get the feeling Lando doesn’t have much experience with letting people in very easily, but it's okay. You’ll sit here as long as he needs to get his thoughts together. 

Finally he speaks, but even then, his tone holds hesitance. 

“I feel like everything is going to shit. The car is great this season, it’s better than it's ever been before, so that’s not the problem. It’s me, I’m the problem, I keep fucking everything up," He sighs, shoulders slumping. "And my team work so hard for me to be able to perform and deliver and I feel like I’m just letting everyone down, y’know? They deserve someone who can give them better than the shit stuff I’ve been putting out these past few races.” 

Lando as a person is impossibly hard on himself, you’ve come to learn—always thinks he could’ve done better, even if what he’s already done is enough. The same is true when it comes to his job. 

You’d know—you checked. In your uninformed opinion, the results he’s been achieving in the races are great. To be finishing high in the top five out of twenty of the best drivers in the world in almost every single race recently, it’s enough to make anyone proud.

But when you think about it from a competition perspective, a cutthroat drive with everything you’ve got, put everything on the line perspective, you get a sense of why he’s beating himself up. 

To know he can win and still fall short, race after race…god, you can’t even imagine how he must be feeling. 

You might be clueless still, but at the very basis of it all, you understand. Lando has worked so hard for so many years, put in blood, sweat, and tears, and he feels like he’s not living up to expectations. 

You know what it’s like to have such high expectations placed on your shoulders and nearly be crushed by the weight of everyone counting on you. Surely not on a scale as large as his, but you understand the struggle. 

Then he goes into the race in Hungary a few weeks back, and you can tell there’s some lingering hurt in him about what happened. 

“It’s like they were guilt tripping me or something. Telling me I’ll need the team in the championship fight, that I should do the right thing and give up my position. Call me crazy, but that just didn’t sit right with me at all. They want me to be a team player and that’s fine, I’m happy to, but I dunno…” Lando trails off, nose wrinkling like the words leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

You notice him picking at the skin below his nail and move without thinking, closing the distance between the two of you and redirecting his fiddling fingers by linking them with your own. 

It gets him to stop picking, but it also makes him stop talking. Whatever words are about to come out of his mouth die into a drawn out exhale, eyes drawn to your joined hands like a magnet. 

“Yeah? Keep going, I’m still listening,” You urge gently, nodding. Lando blinks at you, as if he’s lost his train of thought. “Hungary? The team?”

“Uh…yeah. Right. I was—I guess I just didn’t think they’d pull all that crap over the radio. Like, everyone could hear what they were saying—other teams, the commentators. It was on live broadcast too!” His fingers tighten around yours ever so slightly, dark brows knit with frustration. 

Even though you know close to nothing about the sport, what his team pulled seems like a dick move. You understand wanting to put their drivers in the best position possible, but airing things out on a radio where everyone can hear it feels wrong to you. Then again, you have no idea what goes on within a team at this type of performance level. 

“It’s like, they knew I’d do what they wanted me to do and I did, but for a moment, I almost didn’t. I almost went against team orders, and that’s…” He laughs humorlessly, shaking his head. “You don’t do that. You can’t. You listen to what your team says and you do it, and that’s the end. My boss has been calling every now and then, trying to get me to talk and shit, and I just don’t really wanna talk about work right now. I don’t even wanna think about it.” 

“Oh, Lando…” You sigh. Your thumb rubs circles over the prominent ridges of his knuckles, hoping it brings him some sort of comfort.

“I know I probably sound like such a brat right now, but I’ve given everything I have to McLaren and it still doesn't feel like enough. They want more, and right now…I’m not sure how much more I’ve got in me.” 

“Can I be completely and totally honest with you right now?” 

“Yeah, please.” 

You hesitate, taking a beat to reply. You don’t want him to take your response the wrong way. “I’m not gonna sit and pretend like I have any clue what it’s like to be in your situation, because I don’t. But I do think you’re being too hard on yourself. Yeah, sometimes you might not get the results you’d hoped for, but you’re doing the best you can, and that’s all you need to be doing.” 

Lando doesn’t need your advice, and you’re in no place to be giving any in the first place. He just needs someone in his corner, someone who cares about him to tell him that it’s okay to not be perfect. You want to be that person, even though you’re both still trying to settle into this new dynamic with each other. 

Thankfully, your words seem to soak in, easing the tension in his shoulders just a little bit. “Thank you. I think I really needed that.” 

“Glad I could help,” You say warmly, squeezing his hand. 

“Y’know, I just realized that I’ve never said any of that out loud to anyone.”

“Do you feel better?” 

Lando chuckles, and somehow, he even seems better. Like whatever was weighing him down was gone. “Yeah, I do. I feel…lighter, actually? Is that weird?” 

“Not at all. That’s what letting things out will do for you.”

“Maybe. But maybe it’s more than that, maybe it’s…you.” 

Your breath hitches in your chest. “Me?”

“You make me feel like I can be myself around you. Like, the real me, not the me the rest of the world knows me as. I feel genuinely happy around you, and I—I can’t just sit here and ignore it any longer. I still really like you. And I know what you said about us, and I know why, but I can’t help the way I feel around you. The way I feel about you.” 

“Lando, I—” 

“I swear I’m not trying to change your mind or make you feel guilty, or anything like that! I just had to say it before it made me explode,” He adds, exhaling shakily. “In the spirit of letting things out.” 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t been starting to question whether or not you’d made the right choice by deciding to walk away from Lando, because the more you get to know him, the more it chips away at your resolve. He’s kind and sweet and funny, and he gets you like nobody else has before. It’s been hell these past few days, tiptoeing around each other when all you want to do is kiss him senseless.

Right now, you want to kiss him senseless. He’s right here in front of you, holding your hand, looking at you with those stupid sparkly eyes. You want to say it’s the leftover alcohol buzzing in your veins making you feel this way, but that would be a lie too. 

Fuck it. 

You cross the already dwindling space between the two of you, sliding a hand around the back of his neck, and kissing him softly. Lando freezes for a split second, but before you know it, he’s kissing you back, guiding you closer until you’re nearly on his lap. His hands roam your back, curling into the material of your shirt, thumbing under it just a tiny bit to stroke at the warm skin there. 

It isn’t at all like the first time you kissed. He lets you set the tone, following your slow lead without question. 

You’re not sure how long you keep at it—lazy, gentle kisses punctuated with hushed giggles and tiny satisfied noises from the both of you.

Lando takes a pause every so often, pulling back just enough to look at you, take in the sight of you breathless from his doing, and every time, his mouth curls into a squinty, close mouthed smile. You can only bear the fondness in his expression for a few seconds before growing too aware of the way he looks at you and kissing him again. 

Your brain doesn’t want to stop, but apparently your body decides you’ve had enough action for a day, because at some point you feel your eyes start to droop, chin following.

As if sensing your exhaustion, Lando pulls away, chest rising and falling heavily. He’s breathless, lips kiss-swollen as they curve into a soft smile. “We should stop. You need to get some sleep.” 

“No! We should talk about this. Us.” 

“I agree, but I don’t think you’re really in the right headspace to do it right now.”

“I’m fine! I’m okay, I swear.” 

“You just nearly fell asleep whilst we were making out.”

“For a second!” You whine, letting your head thunk against his chest. A chuckle vibrates through him. “Don’t laugh at me, I’m tired.” 

“Then go to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning,” He insists, lips pressed to the crown of your head. You sigh through your nose. You’d argue a little more, but Lando is right again. All you want to do is go to sleep. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’ll be here when you wake up, we can figure it out then.” 

“Promise?” 

“I promise.”

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