#would love to have the time to write this some time

[cryptotheism]

So most of the time if you wanna invent a magical tradition you have to lie. You have to say you're a member of an ancient secret order of sages. Usually there's one guy who invented a thing and people build a tradition around the fake tradition he came up with. But for Hermeticism it's kinda the opposite. Thoth gave humanity writing, and science, and magic, so if you wanted to write about magic or occult science, and you were just some dickhead, you could lie and say that actually Thoth wrote your book. If you were Greek you thought Thoth was just Hermes with an ibis head and maybe you even thought he was like, a guy. So there's a Hermes with three parts so you call him Trismegistus; Thrice Great.

What is the Hermetic Corpus? Well that's all the books attributed to Hermes Trismegistus. These date from maybe 700bce to 400ad. Maybe. And they are written in like seven different languages. Also the texts constantly contradict each other. Sometimes the world is a hell prison made by an idiot god ruled over by demon planets and the only way to escape is to think really hard in a special way about secrets. Sometimes the world is a garden of mysteries created by a loving god seduced by his crestion that he abandoned his divinity to die within his lover and have children who would live on. Sometimes the world is our faculty for understanding reality but also that reality and also the mind of a god contemplating itself. Sometimes Tat is there.

[xximperioxx]

Help Me Hold Onto You

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.1k (not proofread)

Warnings: parent death (mother) , mourning, panic attack/breakdown(reader throws up), patient death, robby walks in on reader having a panic attack, fluff, age gap, medical inaccuracies, very brief mention reader having tattoos

Notes: For some reason did not include a dad but oh well. Probably why the reader has a thing for Robby. this took me a while to write idk. Also I based the panic attack symptoms on mine so pls don’t come at me. Totally listened to The Archer by Taylor Swift while writing this. Thank you for all the love recently and hope you enjoy <3

——————————————————

You don’t hear Robby’s voice telling you to call the time of death until he puts his hand on your shoulder. You flinch.

You silently watch Donnie and Mateo cover the woman’s body.

“She was your family?” Mel asks

Your eyes pull away from the now sheet covered body to look at her confused, “No, she-she came in yesterday.”

She sees your confusion and nervously rocks on the heels of her feet. “Oh. You called her mom, I just assumed.”

Your head whips up and your eyes burn with anger. “No, I didn’t.”

Mel shrinks and is about to open her mouth before Robby pops his head back into the room instructing everyone to take a break.

An irritated scoff leaves your mouth as you slip away from the group. Donnie and Mateo share a silent look.

Your heart hurts. It’s not that you didn’t believe Mel- you absolutely did. You just didn't think you would slip like that. Someone else’s mom you couldn’t save. You let her slip away like your own mother. Same cause of death. A heart attack.

You come to a stop and your hand rests at your chest. Your heart thumping loudly. Your eyes begin to burn as you try to focus your breathing.

Your feet move you to the closest bathroom which happens to be the unisex bathroom.

You bust open the bathroom door, fully hyperventilating now.

You couldn’t save her. You didn’t even get to say goodbye to your own mother.

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

Mel finds herself approaching Dr. Robby at the hub. “Dr. Robby,” She interrupts, “I’m um… concerned about Dr. (Y/N).”

Robby continues his work on the tablet, “Well, she did just lose a patient, Dr. King, and that doesn’t get easier no matter how many times.”

“She kept calling the patient ‘mom’. At some point during compressions I heard her say, ‘Please don’t do this mom’.” Robby’s eyes glance up with concern. She continues, “I tried to ask her about it and she got angry.”

He sets the tablet on the counter. “I’ll check in on her.” He gestures to the screen, “And you keep up the good work with your patients.”

As Dr. King walks away, Robby slides his glasses to the top of his head before running his hands down his face. He knew something was up. Normally the two of you worked in sync. Two peas in a pod. You were his top senior resident, not that he would admit it out loud.

You were always in his eyesight and even on your days off, Robby’s eyes would search for you. You had taken a few days off during the week and you had left suddenly. Not even letting him know, he had found out from Gloria you would be taking a few days off due to personal reasons. He knew something was wrong when he texted you and never got a response or when you had come back to work with dark circles under your eyes. You looked fragile and not your usual radiant, lighthearted self. There were no jokes, no smiles, no laughs, no glances directed at Robby or anyone in the Pitt.

Robby had watched Gloria approach you at the beginning on your shift. How she took your hands and gently told you something he couldn’t read on lips. How you gave her a weak smile as you said thank you. When you just silently stood with your arms around yourself for a few moments after Gloria walked away.

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

You slide to the floor gripping at your chest and neck as if it would help you breathe.

You don’t hear the door open with the ringing in your ears nor do you see who swiftly comes into the small bathroom. Your eyes are closed with the intent of trying to focus on your heartbeat. Hopefully to also stop the tears from flowing.

Robby rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He let out a sigh of relief, finally catching a moment to pee.

The sound of a zipper causes your eyes to peek open. A noise attempts to come out of your throat. You recognize the navy blue sweatshirt and cargo pants. Your head finds itself back in between your knees.

Robby jolts at the sudden noise, “Jesus – fuck.” He whips his head around. His eyes widen at the sight of you. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

He quickly zips his pants back up ignoring his belt as he kneels in front of you. His hands pull your face up, his eyes scanning your face. Your name continues to slip from his mouth.

Your eyes open and your vision is still fuzzy. His fingers graze over some stratch marks on your neck before checking your pulse. 160 bpm. Your shortness of breath suddenly turns into dry heaving. Without thinking, you shove Robby to the side and retch into the toilet. All that comes up is the iced coffee you had this morning.

Robby places a gentle hand on your back. You let out a deep sigh of relief. Finally feeling like you can breathe again as if you threw up the heavy feeling in your chest. You finally pull your face away from the toilet and let your body relax. Grabbing some toilet paper, you wipe the lingering tears on your face before looking at Robby.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your bathroom break,” your voice raspy. A tired smile attempts to form.

He leans against the bathroom wall with you. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes studying you. “You doing okay?”

You blink.

He takes in your bloodshot eyes and the dark circles before letting out a nervous chuckle at your reaction.

“Besides the fact that you walked in on me having a panic attack?” You press your lips into a fine line, “Just peachy.”

He nods and nudges your shoulder with his. “What’s going on? You’ve been distant.”

You scoff while standing up. Robby lets out a groan as he stands up, his joints yelling at him. You turn the faucet on and begin washing your hands. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Talk to me,” he pleaded.

You wipe your hands,“That’s rich coming from you.”

Robby wants to flinch. There had been moments in the past where you had begged him to tell you how he was feeling whenever he would shut himself down. You had begged him to let you help him. You always saw right through him. He always pushed you away and you would always pull him back in.

He sighs. “I just want to help you. I’m worried about you.”

You huff, “Just stop. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

Robby tries to reach for you. You jerk away as your voice wavers, “Please just leave me alone. I-I want to be alone.”

His heart breaks. You sound like him. His lips press together as he watches you unlock the door. He runs his hand through his hair. The roles are reversed now.

You pause before leaving, “Don’t forget to piss.”

All you hear is a snigger as you slip out of the bathroom.

You make your way to the hub. Your eyes up to see Langdon already staring at you. A small smirk resting on his face.

You sigh, “What?”

He leans against the counter, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you just walked out of the single bathroom Robby happens to be in.”

The two senior residents watch Dr. Robby walk out of the bathroom. You quickly clear your throat and reach over Langdon, grabbing a tablet, “You just love being an asshole, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Robby would never want to admit it to himself but you’re the one he would risk it all for. Yet he’s too scared to act on his feelings with you. When he looks at you, he’s reminded of his failed relationships and deep down he knows he’s better off alone. He wouldn’t make you happy in the long run. You’re young. You have your whole career left ahead of you and he doesn’t want to put that in jeopardy.

Dana snaps her fingers in front of Robby’s face. He gently shoves her hand out of his way. Her hands now on her waist.

“I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes.” She searches his face. “You okay?”

He aimlessly nods, his mind still on you. Dana gives him an update regarding some patients. Half listening, he glances past Dana and focuses on you. You meet his gaze.

Robby interrupts her, “Do you know what’s going on with (Y/N)? She’s not herself.”

Dana tries to joke, “Worried about her, lover boy?” He gives her a look. “Right. Well, the poor kid just lost her mother. She just lost a part of herself. So of course she’s going to be out of it.”

Robby's face falls. His heart drops. The pit in his stomach is now bigger. Why didn’t you tell him?

Dana notices the look and frowns, “Did she not tell you?”

He goes to look for you but you’re nowhere to be seen. He shakes his head out of frustration. “It’s like she’s shutting me out.”

The charge nurse puts her hand on his shoulder, “Sounds like someone I know.”

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

Robby finds you making a coffee an hour later. Just as you’re about to take a sip, Robby takes the cup out of your hand and tosses it in the trash.

“Robby, are you fucking serious?” If looks could kill.

“You’re going home.”

“What?”

“Grab your bag. You’re going home.”

This time you laugh. You brush past him.

He backs up, blocking the doorway. “I’m serious.”

You look at him unimpressed, “Well, jokes on you I don’t have any more PTO or sick time so I can't leave.” You try to sneak under his arm through the doorway.

His arm curls around you, stopping you once again. He sighs, “As your attending, I am making the decision to send you home.”

You furiously blink away some tears, “You’re going to pull the attending card now, Robby?”

He silently nods.

“Y-You don’t understand I need,” you let out a shaky breath, “–I need to work. Please Michael.”

His lips press into a thin line as the sinking feeling in his chest returns. He was trying to do what’s best for you.

Robby’s arm drops. He looks down and gently takes a hold of your hand, “You need to mourn.”

You rip your hand away. Almost angry he knew about your mother. Your lips trembling while shaking your head, “No-No, I don’t.”

Robby lets out a deep breath. “Please.” Finally, you look up at the man in front of you. “You need to go home.”

You stand there, bitterly wiping away tears as you watch Robby walk away to grab your backpack from the hub. You sniffle.

How could he just send you home like this? How could you let yourself break down this much? He can’t just do this to you when you have tried to help him mourn Adamson for years. You angrily take your bag from his hand and brush past him.

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

“Jess, if I get any more sympathy flowers I’m going to start giving them back as a warning. Like an omen.”

Your roommate, Jessica, takes the vase of flowers from you. “I like them. They brighten up the apartment.”

You begin to walk to your room, “Yeah...nothing like being reminded your mom just died with flowers.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” She yells from the other room.

You lay on your bed, picking at your fingers. Your eyes close. You haven’t slept in days. You have a migraine from crying. Any time you were alone your thoughts were plagued with her. Childhood memories. Her passing. The future without her. She would never see you get married, meet her grandkids, see you succeed.

Your mind wanders to Robby. She would never meet him. You talked about him enough that she probably had him imaged out. You see him with you. Your future. Together.

Your eyes pop open. Did you just think about marrying him? Suddenly your heart aches, feeling guilty with how you treated him. You were shutting him out. You don’t want to push him away. God if anyone knew what you were going through it would be him.

You stare at the ceiling fan. Maybe you should text him.

“(Y/N)! You have a special delivery.” Your roommate sings out.

You sigh and curl into your bed. You hear her call your name again.

Slowly but surely you stand up from your bed. Your feet pad against the wood floor as you make your way to the living room. You can hear Jess making small talk with someone. “Jess I told you - give the flowers back. Let them be an omen.”

You pause when you see Robby in your apartment. Tired eyes, a warm smile on his face, a hand in his sweatshirt pocket, the other holding a coffee, and his backpack on the floor by his feet. He’s still in his scrub top and cargo pants meaning he had come right after work. To see you.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes move away from Jess, taking you in. Your hair still damp from a shower, an oversized college shirt, and a pair of pajama shorts. Robby’s eyes can’t help but trail up your legs, noticing tattoos he didn’t know you had.

He snaps out of it, clearing his throat. “I brought you a coffee.”

“To make up for the one you threw out?”

He nods. You purse your lips to stop you from grinning. You take the coffee from his hand.

“I’m uh–going to go grocery shopping. Please make yourself at home.” Jess picks up her bag from the kitchen table. She hesitates, stopping by you. She whispers with excitement, “Is this doctor daddy?”

With a roll of your eyes, you give her a shove. You notice the tip of Robby’s ears turned bright red at the not so quiet comment. Your roommate waves goodbye before heading out.

You take a seat on your couch. “How’d you find my address anyways?”

Robby rubs the back of his neck, “Langdon.”

“That little fucker,” you mutter. He cracks a smile.

Robby follows you to the couch. He walks over to a shelf, admiring your life outside of work in pictures. You sip your coffee. It’s quiet.

He gently picks up a face-down picture frame. It’s you and your mom smiling at each other. You watch him as his eyes study the picture.

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want people knowing.” You sigh, “I guess it’s been a way for me to feel like the whole thing never happened.”

He takes a seat next to you. Your knees touching, “You don’t need to apologize. Especially to me.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to send you home like that– I just don’t want you to end up like me.”

“I know you didn’t get to mourn Adamson like you should have. I know it still haunts you.”

He shakes his head almost wincing at his mentor’s name, “I could see myself in you today and that terrified me.”

He reaches for your hand and intertwines your fingers. Your eyes become watery, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Robby mutters, “I hated that you shut me out.”

Looking down, you blink away your tears, “I just feel so broken. Alone.”

He looks at you and whispers quietly, “I’ll put you back together,” he lets go of your hand. His calloused fingers trace your jawline, gently turning your head to look at him. “Just like you’re doing with me.”

Your eyes search his, “You would stay?”

A grin spreads onto his face, “Can’t get rid of me. Even if you tried.” His face softens, “Help me hold onto you.”

Your face mirrors his, “I mean I’ve held onto you this long.”

Robby jokes, “I know how you feel now when you try to take care of me.”

You lean into him, “I can be pretty annoying.”

He smirks and leans in closer, “I’d say so.”

“Maybe that’s why we work so well together.”

He brushes your hair out of your face, “And why’s that?”

“We see right through each other.”

There was never a time where you didn’t see through Robby’s bullshit lies. Whenever Gloria would get on his nerves, when he was struggling with his depression or anxiety, or when he had a tough patient. Robby always seemed to know when you didn’t get enough sleep, having a rough mental health day, when you were hangry, or when you just needed a hug.

Robby’s dilated eyes dart down to your lips.

“Are you going to kiss me, Dr. Robinavitch?” You murmured. Your soft lips brush against his.

“If you’d let me.”

He takes your nod as a yes. Robby closes the gap between you and connects your lips together. You immediately reciprocate, gently kissing him back. His rough calloused hands cup your face, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds you slowly pull away. His forehead rests against yours.

You let out a soft laugh. “I’ve thought about that for an embarrassingly long time.”

A groan rumbles at the back of Robby's throat. “You don’t want to know what I’ve thought about.”

You snicker before placing a soft kiss beneath his beard. “We can discuss that later.”

He pulls your legs over his lap and wraps his arm around you. Your head rests on his chest as his hand rests on your bare thigh.

You listen to his accelerated heart beat slowly calm. He lays his head on top of yours. The two of you sit in comfortable silence. You stifle a yawn.

“I wish you could have met her,” you whisper.

“I would tell her she has the most intelligent and beautiful daughter…” his thumb gently caressing your skin, “And that she won’t have to worry about you because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your heart swells, “Thank you.”

“Adamson is proud of you. I know it.” You mumble into his chest. Robby releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. A sense of reassurance floods him. Something he hasn’t felt in a while.

After a few moments, Robby hears your breathing become slow and rhythmic.

Robby sighs, “I would also tell your mom–I have loved her daughter for a long time and have just been too afraid to admit it.”

“I love you too, Michael.” You tiredly mumble as the curve of your mouth curled up slightly.

He presses his lips to the top of your head with an embarrassed smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jessica comes back to the apartment to find the two of you on the couch. Robby quietly snoring and you in his arms, sleeping for the first time in days.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty-Two

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, negative self-talk, therapy, LandoLOG format, some time skips.

Notes — The championship tension is rising you guys. I’m literally on the beach in a bikini rn btw (not to brag :p)

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

Chapter Twenty-Two  (Turkey — Saudi Arabia)

The flight to Istanbul was quiet.

Lando had fallen asleep somewhere over central Europe, curled against the window with his hoodie pulled up over his head. Amelia sat stiffly in her seat, notebook open on her lap, a pen twirling between her fingers. She wasn’t writing anything, though. She was thinking.

About him. About all of it.

Turkey could be a reset, if they let it. She’d witnessed McLaren spend the last week doing damage control after Sochi; shifting the narrative away from Lando’s heartbreak, framing the race as a learning experience instead of a failure. 

He’d said all the right things publicly. But privately…

Privately, Lando was still carrying it like a fresh wound.

He hated himself for it. No—no, hated was too strong. Lando didn’t hate himself. Not exactly. But he turned all his sharpest knives inward when something went wrong. A relentless critic, a perfectionist with nowhere to put all that anger but his own reflection.

Amelia had seen it happen before, smaller instances, little mistakes. But Sochi had been the biggest yet. His shot at his first win, taken away by rain and a split-second decision that nobody should have been expected to make in the heat of that moment.

And, of course, he blamed himself for all of it.

She felt a little nauseous as she watched him sleep, peaceful for the first time in days. She let the pen fall to her notebook and turned her head, staring out at the endless stretch of clouds. 

Maybe she should have seen this coming. Maybe she should have pushed harder, weeks ago, months ago. Every driver had their pressure points. Their ways of coping. Max raged. Daniel laughed. Fernando withdrew.

But Lando? Lando just punished himself. Quietly. Slowly.

She thought about how he’d been that night in Italy. How he’d tried to smile when she called it a perfect drive. How he’d apologised to her — her, like she was the one who’d lost something — and how it had taken everything in her not to cry when he’d finally let her hold him, sagging against her like he had no energy left to even stand. 

It wasn’t sustainable. She knew that. He couldn’t keep treating himself like this.

And maybe it wasn’t her place — he had a sports psychologist, didn’t he? Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be her responsibility as his girlfriend. But… she loved him. And if she couldn’t stop the rain, or change the strategy calls, or rewrite the outcome of Sochi, maybe she could at least help him carry the consequences of it. 

She thumbed her phone open, scrolled to her calendar. Her therapist offered virtual sessions and she’d been meaning to book a new one anyway. It would be a bit messy, timing-wise, with the media schedule and free practice, but—

“Whatcha doing, baby?” His voice was rough with sleep. Amelia jumped slightly, and turned to find Lando blinking blearily at her, his hair a mess under the hood.

“Nothing,” she said instinctively, then sighed. “Booking something.”

He leaned over to see her phone, squinting slightly at the brightness. “Therapy?”

She nodded, slipping the phone back into her lap. “Yeah.”

He was silent for a second, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “You alright?”

It was such a Lando thing to ask — genuine concern, even half-asleep, even after everything. 

She smiled a little sadly. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s for you.”

He froze, hand half-raised toward his coffee. Slowly, he looked over at her, brow furrowed. “Me?”

“Yes.” She affirmed. 

His mouth opened, then shut. He flopped back against the headrest, pulling his hood tighter over his head like he could hide from the conversation.

Amelia didn’t let him. “Lando,” she sighed. “I’m not going to… force you into It or anything. I know you have your own therapist and stuff, but—” She paused, searching for the words. “I think the way that you handle your bad days is really unhealthy.”

Lando just stared at the seat in front of him, jaw tight.

“Obviously, you’re allowed to be upset,” she continued, with a nod. “And you’re allowed to be mad. But you punish yourself for things that are out of your control. That’s not healthy. And according to my therapist, it’s not normal.”

He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. 

“I’m not saying you’re broken. Or that you need fixing. You’re—" she paused again, voice softening. "You’re you. And I love you. Exactly as you are.”

That got his attention. He turned his head slightly, just enough that she could see the faint, startled look in his eyes.

“But loving you also means wanting you to stop hurting yourself every time something goes wrong," she finished.

Silence stretched between them. 

Amelia forced herself to sit back, giving him space to think, even if every instinct screamed at her to fill the silence.

After what felt like forever, Lando let out a slow breath. “I don’t need therapy.”

Yeah. She expected that. She didn’t flinch.

“Maybe,” she said. “But you should go anyway.”

He looked at her again, properly this time, and whatever snarky retort he’d been planning died in his throat. He saw it on her face, how serious she was. How scared, even, in that quiet way she tried not to show anyone.

Finally, Lando shifted, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His voice was quieter now. “Would it… make things easier for you? If I went?”

Amelia blinked, surprised by the shift. “This isn’t about me.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “But it is, a bit. Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached over, covering his hand with hers. “It would help both of us,” she said simply. “I feel anxious because I’m constantly worried that you’re not okay. That’s all.”

He stared at their joined hands for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.“Alright,” he said, voice hoarse. “I’ll do it. One session.”

Relief flooded through her so fast she had to blink back sudden, unexpected tears.

“Good,” she nodded, trying for lightness. “I would probably have tricked you into it, if you’d said no.”

He huffed a laugh, half-way between exasperated and genuinely amused. “You’re scary when you’re determined, you know that?”

“Hm.” She hummed, with a shrug. 

He smiled, a real one this time, soft and a little sheepish, and sat back, closing his eyes again.

Amelia picked up her pen once more and tapped it against her notebook. The seatbelt light pinged above them as they started their descent into Istanbul. Below the clouds, she could see the sprawling city, the Bosphorus shimmering like a ribbon of silver in the afternoon sun.

They had a long weekend ahead of them. FP1, FP2, media obligations, the race itself. More pressure, more chances for things to go wrong.

Amelia tucked her notebook away, fastened her seatbelt, and glanced at Lando.

Already asleep again. Perfect in so many ways — still a little broken in places.

But hers. 

—

They landed just after sunrise.

The sky outside was a muted gray, the roads slick with overnight rain. The air smelled wet. 

The hotel was clean and quiet, the lobby still half-asleep when Lando’s team pushed their cases inside. Amelia barely remembered the check-in; she stood back and let them handle it, her mind somewhere else entirely. Half on the weekend ahead, half on the looming therapy call they’d scheduled for later that day. 

Their room was beautiful, more of a suite. 

“You want to go get breakfast, baby?” Lando asked. 

She nodded. "Yeah. Before I crawl into bed and sleep for sixteen hours.”

He huffed a soft laugh and then reached out to grab her hand, entwining their fingers together. 

They headed down to the hotel restaurant, one of those sterile, modern spaces that looked the same in every city, and found Daniel already there, sitting at a table by the window, sunglasses shoved into his messy curls even though it was still grey outside.

He grinned wide when he spotted them, lifting his coffee in greeting. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Amelia dropped into one of the seats across from him with a sigh. "You're very awake.”

Daniel smirked. Shrugged. "Slept the whole flight. Like a professional sloth."

Lando slid into the seat beside her, slouching low. 

Daniel raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. "You two look like you’re about to get executed."

Amelia made a face at him before squinting at the menu. “Why would that happen? We’re not criminals.”

Lando pulled a face, raking a hand through his hair.

Daniel leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something between a whisper and a bad stage voice. “Are the children grouchy?” He teased. 

Neither of them answered, but the silence was confirmation enough. Daniel just nodded. Then he poured them both coffee from the jug without asking and passed the mugs over like offerings.

“Oh. I need sugar,” Amelia told him, but still accepted the cup.

“Of course you do,” Daniel said with a grin, reaching around to grab one of the sugar packets from the table behind them and then flicking it at her. 

Amelia made a low, unimpressed sound and ripped her croissant in half. Then she picked up the sugar packet and put it into her coffee — because she was exhausted, and she needed caffeine immediately. 

They ordered, pastries, eggs, endless rounds of coffee, and Daniel, kept things light. He told stories about the last media day disaster, about how a cameraman tripped over his own feet trying to get a slow-mo shot of Lando walking. 

Amelia let herself laugh, cramming a bite of croissant into her mouth.

At one point, Daniel leaned back in his chair, looked at Lando with a cocked brow. "You reckon the new floor’s gonna hold up? Heard the lads were still tweaking it yesterday."

Lando shifted properly for the first time, straightening a little. "It should. They made the sidepod adjustment less aggressive, apparently. Should give us a bit more stability through Turn 8 than we had on the sim. Hope so, anyway. It was fucking awful.”

Daniel nodded in grim agreement. "Still reckon it’s gonna slide like shit if it rains."

Lando grimaced. "Yeah, well." He shrugged. 

Amelia glanced at him, worrying her bottom lip. 

Daniel rallied on, looping easily back into real shop talk. They started debating tire pressures for the cooler temperatures forecasted for qualifying, and Amelia sat there, chewing and sipping and letting their voices wash over her. Jumping in every now and then when Lando fumbled a technical term or Daniel started talking about "vibes" instead of tangible data.

"You two are hopeless," she muttered at one point, half under her breath.

Daniel leaned over and bumped her shoulder with his own. “Yeah, but we’re your hopeless idiots, ay?”

She didn’t smile, exactly, too tired for that, but her mouth twitched a little. She liked Daniel. He was fun, easygoing, a genuinely talented driver.

Her mind flickered, unbidden, to Oscar — to all the promises Alpine were making, all the big words about his future. In a way, she hoped they would follow through, give him the seat he deserved and the platform to build something extraordinary.

And in another, more selfish way, she hoped they wouldn’t.

When the breakfast plates were empty and the coffee was long gone, Daniel gave Lando a long look across the table.

"You’ll smash it, mate," he said. No jokes, no grin this time. Just honest, quiet faith.

Amelia felt her chest ache a little at the way Lando ducked his head, like he didn’t believe it yet.

Like he wasn’t sure he deserved to.

Daniel clapped him on the shoulder, light but firm. "You’ve got this."

They said goodbye, promises to catch up before FP1 tossed into the air between them, and Amelia followed Lando out of the restaurant, the cool hotel air whispering around them.

Upstairs, in the quiet of their hotel room, the nerves started creeping back in. Amelia pulled her laptop out, her fingers steady even as her stomach twisted.

"You okay?" Lando asked, standing awkwardly near the window, arms crossed.

She looked at him, at the tired set of his mouth, the way his eyes flicked to the laptop like it was a threat.

"Yeah," she said.

Because she was tired, but she wasn’t scared.

Not anymore.

"Come here," she added, patting the couch beside her.

He sat down, careful like he thought he might break something.

She touched his cheek, running the tip of her nail across his cheekbone. “I love you.” She promised. 

— 

The call connected with a faint chime, and the therapist’s calm, smiling face appeared on Amelia’s laptop screen.

Lando shifted beside her on the hotel room couch, visibly tense, one knee bouncing in a restless rhythm. Amelia resisted the urge to pin it down with her hand. She wanted him here because he wanted to be, not because he felt caged. She understood the difference all too well.

"Hi, Amelia. Hi, Lando," the therapist said warmly. "It’s great to see you both."

Amelia gave a small nod. Lando mumbled something that sounded vaguely like 'hi,' his hands twisting the hem of his hoodie.

The therapist didn’t even blink. She just carried on, patient and calm, the way she always was, the perfect kind of voice that never tried too hard, never felt fake.

“So, Lando, I know Amelia and I have spoken a few times before," she started, smiling lightly, "but since this is your first session with me, why don't we start simple?"

Lando swallowed, clearly uncomfortable under the attention. Amelia watched him out of the corner of her eye, the set of his shoulders too rigid, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

He had been the one to ask, awkwardly, sheepishly, if she would sit with him during his appointment. "Just for the first one," he’d said in the back of the car, on their way from the airport to the hotel. "It’ll be easier if you’re there, I think.”

Amelia had agreed immediately. Of course she had. He never asked for help, so it would have been ridiculous to deny him when he finally did.

"I guess... yeah," Lando said now, rubbing the back of his neck. "Simple’s good."

The therapist smiled, like she could see exactly how hard he was trying. "Perfect. So, how are you feeling today, Lando?"

There was a beat. Lando’s fingers dug harder into the fabric of his hoodie.

Amelia gave him a sidelong glance, deliberate but light. You can say anything, she thought, and it won’t change anything between us.

"Stupid," Lando muttered finally, voice barely above a whisper. "For… this."

The therapist’s face stayed soft. She shook her head gently. "There’s nothing stupid about needing support. Especially in a profession as demanding as yours."

Amelia’s jaw tensed before she spoke. "And for the record," she added bluntly, "you’re not stupid. You’re stubborn. There’s a difference."

Lando cracked a tiny, unwilling smile at that. His knee stopped bouncing.

"Thanks," he said, his voice rough but real.

The therapist nodded, almost like she’d expected Amelia’s bluntness to land exactly where she intended it to.

"Let’s not worry about being perfect or saying the ‘right’ thing today," she said easily. "This is about learning to notice what’s actually going on in your head, not what you think you're supposed to feel."

Lando seemed to digest that for a moment, eyes lowered.

Amelia leaned back against the couch, crossing her arms. She could feel how tightly wound he was, even from here, but he was trying. 

God, he was trying.

"I’m fine at first," Lando said eventually, voice gaining steadiness. “Start of the weekend. I’m excited, full of adrenaline, feel like I can handle anything that’s thrown at me. Then... when I mess up, or when it feels like I’ve messed up, I can’t let go of it. I just keep thinking about it. Over and over." His voice had gone tight around the edges. Shame bleeding out before he could catch it.

Amelia exhaled slowly through her nose. She knew that loop well. It was like picking at a wound because the hurt felt more familiar than the healing.

"You’re allowed to be upset when things go wrong," the therapist said. "What we’re trying to avoid is punishing yourself for being human."

"Feels like weakness," Lando admitted.

Amelia pursed her lips. “It’s not.” She couldn’t help herself, she had to say it, had to be the one to remind him that for what felt like the fiftieth time in a week. 

Lando glanced at her. The smallest flicker of something crossed his face, gratitude, maybe. Or just… fondness.

The session continued, the conversation meandering through the tight, uncomfortable spaces of Lando’s self-criticism. He was careful at first, tentative, like every word was being weighed before it could leave his mouth. But he didn’t shut down. He didn’t pull away.

When the therapist wrapped up, reminding them both that progress wasn't linear and perfection wasn’t the goal, Amelia felt something unfamiliar settle in her chest.

It was hope. Not the kind she usually reserved for numbers and data sheets and strategy calls. A different kind. Messier. Stronger.

Lando closed the laptop and they sat in silence for a beat.

Then he shifted closer to her, bumping his shoulder into hers.

"Sorry for being such a mess.” He mumbled.

Amelia shuffled into his lap, pressing into him, holding him. Letting him hold her. Feeling him all but melt under the weight of her body on-top of his. “Don’t say sorry. I’m a mess too, just in a different way.” 

He pressed his face into her hair. "New race weekend," he said after a while, like he was reminding himself. "Fresh start."

"Fresh start," she nodded. "And if it falls apart again, we deal with it in a healthy way. No more being cruel to yourself. I won’t let it happen.”

Simple. Blunt. True.

Lando just held her tighter. 

— 

Amelia walked into the garage, eyes scanning the team members packing up, her mind already calculating the race data from the day. The weekend had been hard on everyone; a bitter P2 finish when they had walked into the race with their eyes on another victory. 

Max was more than just disappointed. He looked drained, eyes slitted, jaw tight. 

She found him in the corner, leaning against the wall. He didn't notice her approach, his mind still somewhere out on the track, lost in his thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, stepping into his line of sight. His eyes lifted to meet hers, but there was nothing but weariness in them. "You okay?”

He scoffed. "No. Not good. You saw it out there." His hands clenched at his sides. "I'm losing this fucking championship, Amelia. There's no way I can catch up now."

“That’s not true. You absolutely can catch up. Look at the numbers. You can still win. The gap isn’t as big as you think." She told him. Then she took a deep breath and started ticking off the facts, breaking it down as methodically as she always did. “We’ve got multiple race weekends left. You’re behind, but the points difference isn’t insurmountable. If you keep executing like you did earlier today, you’ll close the gap. It’s about consistency, and you’ve got that in spades. But if you lose hope now, start being sad instead of angry, you’ll just be handing it over to him.”

“I’m making too many mistakes.” He snapped. 

She nodded slowly. “Yes, because you’re pushing the car to the limit. And that’s what makes you better than the rest.” 

For a long moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes still on the floor, processing. But eventually, he let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just... I need to figure it out. I need to get my head straight.”

She nodded. 

“Thanks” he said quietly. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Amelia told him. “Become a world championship first. Then you can thank me.”

Max’s lips twitched into a half-smile. 

— 

LandoLOG #4 | Let’s Do This

Uploaded on 23rd November, 2021

[LANDO POV — United States GP]

The vlog kicks off with a zoom-in of Lando’s car in the McLaren garage—mechanics adjusting the setup, wheels spinning. The camera quickly cuts to Daniel, arms spread wide, shouting, “Yee-haw!” in a loud, exaggerated cowboy voice.

[Cold cut to Amelia]

She’s sitting in McLaren hospitality, not a hint of amusement on her face. Wearing a MV33 bomber jacket and an orange LN4 McLaren cap.

Lando’s voice breaks in.

“Alright, guys, let’s focus. Car’s feeling good. I’m feeling good. Let’s do this.”

The camera flicks to Lando walking toward the garage in his race suit. Amelia’s in the Red Bull pit area, her eyes scanning her iPad. The paddock is alive, cars roaring, crew members buzzing with activity. Amelia briefly looks up, catching Lando’s gaze. He gives a thumbs-up.

[Race Prep - Qualifying]

The camera cuts to the grid. Lando’s helmet’s on now, and the camera stays focused as the mechanics buzz around him. He’s laser-focused, blocking out the noise.

Post-Qualifying

[Cut to Lando walking back to the garage]

He’s clearly frustrated. The camera follows him as he flips it on, his voice flat. “Well, that was... not great. P5. We had the pace, but something didn’t click in that last sector. Not happy, but we move on.”

[Hotel Room - Post-Qualifying]

The scene shifts to the hotel room. Lando paces, clearly agitated, while Amelia sits on the bed, working through her iPad, a stim toy in hand. Her focus is intense, but her voice cuts through as she speaks to him.

“It’s that stupid second sector. Everyone struggled with that last corner exit, even Max.”

Lando sighs, sitting next to her. “Yeah, I know. Just... frustrating.” He leans back, rubbing his face in frustration.

Later, it cuts to them at dinner. Amelia’s holding the camera, directing it at Lando.

“Tell them what you did,” she teases.

Lando groans, rolling his eyes. “Baby…”

“He accidentally ordered fish,” she laughs, shaking the camera slightly.

Lando glares but can’t suppress a soft, grimacing smile.

[Race Highlights - United States GP]

Quick cuts of Lando on the track. His car weaves through traffic, taking tight corners with precision. Amelia’s briefly shown on the pit wall, her concentration clear as she analyses Max's data.

[Post-Race]

The camera cuts back to the McLaren garage. Lando’s sitting with a towel draped over his shoulders, sweat dripping from his face. The garage is slowly clearing out. He looks exhausted but calm now.

“P5. Could’ve been better, but we’ll take it. At least we got points.” His voice lacks excitement.

Amelia walks in, standing beside him. She rests her head on his shoulder, and he smiles at the camera. 

Text Overlay: Rest & Recharge

[Home in Monaco]

The video cuts to a scene of them in their Monaco apartment. Lando lounges on the couch, editing footage on his laptop, scrolling through social media. Amelia’s curled up with a blanket beside him, clearly content.

Lando’s voice is laid-back as he talks to the camera. “I didn’t get any sleep last night. So, today’s all about being lazy. Gonna order food, maybe watch a movie, just rest up a bit.”

Amelia looks at him, smiling over the camera. “We’re couch potatoes today — Lan, did I use that right?”

[LANDO POV — Mexican GP]

Lando’s walking down the pit lane with Daniel. The stadium section is packed with fans, the energy palpable. Lando’s voice comes through, upbeat despite the tension.

“Mexico’s always crazy, but I’m feeling good today. The car’s fast, the atmosphere’s unreal. Let’s see what we can do in qualifying.”

[Race Highlights - Mexican GP]

Cut to race footage; Lando pushing his car, making overtakes, keeping up the fight. In the background, Amelia’s pacing, muttering to herself as she goes over Max's data. When Max crosses the line, she beams, her focus momentarily shifting away. Jon, with the camera, catches the moment and gives her a thumbs-up.

[Post-Race - Mexican GP]

Post-race, Lando and Daniel are standing by their cars. Both are sweaty, but there’s a sense of satisfaction. Lando wipes his face, and speaks to the camera.

“Well, that was solid. P4. Not ideal, but we’re getting closer.”

Amelia walks over. When she sees Lando, she smiles. The couple share a quick, tight hug. She pecks him on the cheek, leaving a smudge of lipgloss.

[LANDO POV — Brazilian GP]

Cut to Lando prepping for the Brazilian GP, checking tire pressures, walking through the garage, the atmosphere high-energy. Lando’s pumped, the mood light.

Back at the hotel, Lando turns the camera to Amelia. “Here’s my girl, she’s got everything under control. Smartest person in the world.” He grins at the camera.

Amelia rolls her eyes, her cheeks flushing with a slight embarrassment. “Stop it.”

[LANDO POV — Qatar GP]

The camera shifts. The vibe’s different now. Lando’s face is tense, his jaw tight. The camera cuts to him on the grid, helmet in hand, his expression serious.

“Pressure’s on for everyone today,” his voice is calm but serious.

Amelia’s voice enters the background. “It’s going to be tricky with this heat.” She sounds calm, steady as always, but her tone holds a layer of underlying tension.

[Race Clips - Qatar GP]

Quick cuts show Lando on track, his car weaving through the desert-like circuit, gaining positions, making calculated moves.

[Post-Race - Qatar GP]

Lando stands in front of his car, towel over his shoulders, his expression hard. “P4. Could’ve been better, but... yeah. Good enough for today.” He’s not unhappy, but it’s clear this was not the result he hoped for.

The camera cuts to Lando and Amelia in their hotel room. Amelia’s curled up on his chest, a soft, intimate moment. There’s a quiet sense of exhaustion between them, but also a quiet understanding.

Text Overlay: Now onto the final stretch.

— 

Amelia sat in the strategy room in Saudi Arabia, her posture stiff, hands resting on the table, but her mind was miles away. The hum of the room buzzed around her—the quiet chatter of engineers, the occasional rustle of papers, the sharp clicks of a laptop. Jos sat at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the data, while the rest of the team worked in focused silence. But Amelia felt herself barely holding it together.

Her fingers curled around her stim toy, hidden just beneath the table. It had become a constant companion lately, grounding her when her thoughts raced and anxiety crept in. Every squeeze calmed her pulse, but it did little to ease the storm inside.

The pressure was building—the championship was coming down to the final two races of the season. Amelia’s focus was entirely on Max. The weight of it all was overwhelming.

Her gaze flicked to him. Max sat a few seats away, leaning back in his chair with an air of calm that seemed unaffected by the chaos around them. When their eyes met, the quiet reassurance in his gaze helped her center herself.

"Amelia," GP’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and focused. "We’re ready for your input on strategy. We’ve gone over the options, but I want to hear what you think."

Her heart skipped, but she steadied herself. "Right," she said, her voice firm, though tinged with strain. Her pulse quickened again, the stress creeping up her spine, but she gripped the stim toy harder, focusing on its calming pressure.

Max, noticing the shift in her demeanour, gave her a small, reassuring nod. A silent reminder to breathe. The tension in her chest eased.

She turned back to the board, her mind sharpening. Focus on the data. Focus on Max. He can win this. As she assessed the tire strategies, weather forecasts, and available options, the path forward became clearer. This was the moment to make it count.

"I think we should risk the undercut," Amelia said, her voice steady now. Confidence surged through her. "If Max pushes on the in-lap, we can leapfrog the others. The tire wear will be crucial in the second half, and we need to capitalise on that."

Christian leaned forward, studying the data on the screen. "You’re confident?"

"Yes," Amelia replied without hesitation. "It’s our best shot at maximum points."

Max’s gaze stayed on her, unwavering, as the room hummed with quiet agreement. The strategy was beginning to take shape. Despite the nerves twisting inside her, Amelia’s mind had snapped into focus.

When the meeting wrapped up, Max was the first to approach. He didn’t say anything immediately, just walked up beside her, his presence a quiet comfort.

"You did well," he said quietly, his voice warm. "You’ve been incredible this year. I wouldn’t be this close without you." He nudged her lightly, his smile small but genuine.

Amelia let out a slow breath, leaning into his touch. "I want this for you so badly, Max," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

Max’s expression softened. He crouched beside her, his voice dropping to something more intimate, just between the two of them. “Okay. I need to say this. Amelia, if it doesn’t happen, if I somehow mess this up... don’t blame yourself, alright? You’ve given me a championship-winning car. You’ve made me a better driver. That doesn’t change just because I—" He paused, looking for the right words. "—don’t win it."

She shook her head, a firm resolve settling in. "You will win it," she told him, her voice unwavering.

Max smiled at her, though it wasn’t his usual grin. He was just as nervous, just as desperate. "Yeah. Okay. Want to go find Lando?" he asked, his voice soft.

Amelia nodded, grateful for the shift in focus. "Let’s go."

— 

Jos slammed his headset onto the table as Max crossed the line in second.

Lewis had beaten him.

But still, the fight wasn’t over.

It was official now — Max and Lewis would enter the final race of the season dead even on points.

Winner takes all.

The garage buzzed with tension, but Amelia sat frozen, the noise around her fading into a dull roar.

She squeezed her stim toy so tightly her knuckles turned white, forcing herself to take five slow, deliberate breaths.

There was no margin for error anymore.

They had one more chance. 

[araybiaaa]

❝ temptation.❞  ‎ elias ‘stack’ moore x black!fem oc

ooo. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔… modern!au, tension, flirting, cunnilingus (cause every man in this movie is a muncher!) black!fem oc, explicit sexual content.

ooo. 𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔… where a good girl falls into temptation after she meets elias ‘stack’ moore.

ooo. 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔… soooo i wanted to try something different and do a modern!au with stack. (smoke’s still my favorite twin. the real girlies get it!) but i wanted to challenge myself a bit here.. this idea honestly came out of nowhere. i opened a03 and just started typing and somewhere down the line it became a one shot with 5k+ words?? 😭 also just wanted to say tysm for all of the love on my other fics. smoke and annie are near and dear to my heart and i’m glad you guys enjoyed my interpretations/writings for them. just a fair warning, the girl in this is very unserious but who wouldn’t be if you saw a vampire that looked like mbj! requests are open so send in something if you’d like — just keep in mind of my rules. anyway. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated! ◡̈

“he’s dangerous. if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him.” their words seemed portent at first; a precautionary warning that had her wary of him. she didn’t know him but she’s heard enough stories about him to know that he was feared by everyone. his reputation was something akin of their town’s own boogeyman or freddy kreuger — he was dangerous, menacing and someone to be fearful of.

cleo hadn’t been in town long enough to know if his reputation superseded him or if the rumor’s held some weight of validity in them but her curiosity was piqued to meet the guy that had people hurriedly locking their doors when the sun went down and removing the welcome mats off of their front porches.

at first, she wondered if everyone in town had collectively decided to pull a prank on her as some sort of initiation or simply for their own amusement. because to her elias moore seemed more like a ghost than a vampire. she lurked outside after hours, even against their warnings — completely foolish and naive, but she never saw him around.

she doesn’t know why she wants to see him so bad, maybe it’s because everyone else has and she feels strangely left out. or maybe it’s because she needs to see for herself if there was a world where mythical creatures existed outside of the cheesy television shows she used to watch and the books that she read. but much to her dismayed defeat, time continued on with her being the only one who had yet to meet the feared elias moore.

“what does he look like?” she asked, feigning innocence behind her curiosity that her best friend, naomi easily sees through and narrows a pointed glare at her. “what? i just want to know in case i see him around somewhere!” she murmurs with a halfhearted shrug. it didn’t seem like an actual possibility with how she hadn’t so far, but she didn’t want naomi to know that she was willingly seeking him out.

naomi sighs, pursing her lips as she tapped her manicured fingers against her thigh. after a moment’s contemplation, she reveals: “i’ve only seen him around a few times. he doesn’t look like any of those sick looking vampire that you see on tv. he’s actually…fine.” at this, cleo’s eyebrows raise in amusement at her friend’s description. “he has this look about him that makes you weak in the knees whenever he smiles at you. it’s effortlessly sexy and his eyes — just don’t look in them too long cause you’re gonna find yourself wanting him to turn you into a vampire too just so you can spend the rest of eternity with him. i’m only telling you this because you asked, but don’t go around asking anyone else about him. you don’t want your daddy finding out about it.”

cleo nodded in agreement, but still found her mind wandering about him. she knows that naomi’s right, her overly religious father would have an aneurysm if he’d found out that she was asking questions about the town’s social pariah. but that didn’t stop her from visualizing him through naomi’s description.

she’s only ever heard of naomi speaking negatively about elias so for her to refer to him as fine despite her disliking of him had intrigued cleo. “yeah, you’re right. i was just curious but now i know.”

naomi’s pointed glare deepens, like she doesn’t fully believe cleo. “girl…stay away from him for your own good. trust me. i know another girl who was curious about him just like you are and she got turned.” cleo wonders if she’s just saying that to scare her away, but surprisingly it doesn’t.

“i hear you,” naomi hums in acknowledgment but thankfully doesn’t reprimand her any further about her curiosity.

…

sometimes cleo makes smart decisions.

when it came to school and her grades, everything was always calculated in her mind for her to choose the best possible outcome. she was annoying obsessive like that — always planning ahead, analyzing and assessing even the most mundane things that infiltrated her life. but other times, on seldom occasions, she makes not-so-smart decisions; one’s that has her acting impulsively and deviating from her normally pristine behavior.

she was supposed to be going back to her dorm room to get ready for a party that she was planning on going to with naomi. it was twelve o’clock and she had just finished an exasperating nine hour bartending shift with annoying alcoholics flirting with her and their heady, glossed over eyes staring at her ass in the tight fitted jeans that she was wearing.

her dad was less than pleased about her place of employment, but he knew that she needed extra money to pay for her clothes, shoes, hair and other miscellaneous items so he refrained from making any comments anytime she she complained about a customer or the minimal pay that she was getting.

cleo was closing the bar; wiping down the sticky counters, recounting the money in the register and overturning the chairs when she looks up and sees him. he’s standing across the street but even with the distance set between them she can feel the smolder of his gaze as he looked at her. cleo stands there for a brief moment just staring back at him until she mustered enough courage to make her way to the front door.

the overhead bell rings in a soft bellow as she pushes the door open. the humidity of the mississippi air sticks against her skin as soon as she steps outside. but even with its scorching temperatures, elias’ stare pierces deeper and has her skin burning. when she steps outside, she sees him making his way towards her — his gait was stealth and calculated.

she feels goosebumps prickle along her skin, air catches in her lungs and warmth curls around her neck as he sauntered closer. the first thing that she noticed was that although naomi had been right in her description of him, she had greatly undermined it. he wasn’t just fine; he was handsome and she could already feel her knees buckling weakly beneath her just at the sight of him. the second thing she notices is his eyes and the phosphorescent glow of red in his pupils. when he finally reaches her, he stands athwart from her and slowly drags his eyes over her body. his eyes find hers again and for a moment she wonders if she could hear the hastened beating of her heart.

“it’s kinda late for you to be out here ain’t it?” he posits and the deepened drawl of his southern accent somehow makes him more attractive.

cleo swallows a shaky breath, nodding. “i’m closing up the bar. we just closed about ten minutes ago,”

he raises his brows, trailing his eyes somewhere offside. “and they just left you to do it by yourself? don’t they know it’s dangerous people out here? vampires walkin’ about like they’re humans.” he says with sarcasm lilting in his voice and clicks his tongue against his teeth with a reprimanding tsk that follows.

cleo juts her chin outwardly. “i’m more than capable of handling myself.” she rebuttals, her hand perched on her hip as she looked at him.

his eyes find hers again and he smirks impishly, nodding his head. “i’m sure.” he says; and it’s something hidden in the way that he says it that has her cheeks warming again. a moment passes between them as he stares at her with an intrigued expression worn on his face. “you ain’t scared of me,” it’s more of a statement than a question, though she knows it’s intended to be the latter.

he sounds and looks surprised by this, that he’d finally encountered someone that didn’t run away when they saw him. “am i supposed to be?” she was more attracted to him than anything, unable to stop looking at his lips and his bared fangs that peeked out from his mouth.

he shrugs, “everyone else is.”

“well i’m not everyone else,” at that he doesn’t respond, only smirks at her again making the butterflies she feels in her stomach somersault deeper. cleo bites her lip as she looks over her shoulder towards the bar. ‘don’t ever invite him in anywhere, that’s how he gets you.’ she ignores her father’s words, pushing them to the back of her mind. “you wanna come in?”

he raises another brow, “you want me to come inside?” this time it’s her that shrugs and he only gives her a brief dubious look of contemplation before he’s following her inside of the bar at her open invitation. she could feel his eyes honed in on her ass and unlike with the drunken middle aged men from before, she isn’t repulsed at the realization.

“you know, at first i thought people were lying about who you are. it seemed like everyone knew what you looked like except for me.” she says, folding her arms against her chest and watching his eyes lower to her perked breast. she bites on her lip, intrigued.

“you were lookin’ for me?”

she nods briefly, “i wanted to know what you looked like.”

he walks towards her until he’s standing directly in front of her; way closer than he was when they were standing outside and it catches her slightly off guard. “well now that you have…whatchu think?” the remark is undeniably coquettish — the soft murmur of it accompanied by the lascivious look that he’s giving her has her pinned beneath his gaze.

“i think you’re not as scary as people make you out to be,” she responds; avoiding the answer that she knows he was truly searching for. but he settles for this one too, indulging in her retreat.

“you think you can make that assumption from a five minute conversation? what if i am like everyone says?” the air between them shifts into this palpable tension; hot and undeniable. he takes a few more steps forward until he’s hovering his heightened figure over her. she cranes her neck to look up at him, “i could bite you right now and you wouldn’t be able to do anythin’ about it”

“if you wanted to you would’ve done it outside,” she rebuttals, seeing the twitch of his curled upper lip.

“maybe i like playin’ with my food before i eat it.” and the innuendo behind his words has her breath hitching.

her skin pricks with goosebumps again at his teasing words. elias takes immediate notice of it; his nostrils flare as he inhales sharply with his heightened senses. and it takes a moment for her to realize that he must smell something radiating off of her body — arousal? excitement? — because he’s chuckling and licking his lips as he reached his hand out and brushed it over her hip. she shivers, not out of fear but of arousal. “and you sure as hell look and smell good enough to eat.”

cleo’s mouth gapes the only audible sound that comes out is a soft gasp. it’s the sound of her phone ringing that suddenly clefts through the tension hanging in the air. she jumps, startled, looking at elias whose eyes narrow at her phone like he’s inwardly cursing it for its intrusion. she reluctantly moves out of his grasp and walks over to pick up her phone that was sat at the edge of the counter.

picking up the phone she sees that it’s a text from naomi asking where she’s at. she’d gotten so distracted with elias that she forgot that she was supposed to meet naomi at their dorm room half an hour ago. she types a quick message in response, telling her that closing up took longer than expected and that she should go ahead to the party without her and that she would just meet her there instead.

she looks up from her phone at the same time elias is already walking out of the door, the sound of the bell ringing announces his departure as cleo stands there with her mind replaying their interaction.

…

a week passes before she sees him again. he’s standing outside of the door; staring, watching, waiting. she walks towards the entrance and holds the door open, beckoning him forward. “come in,” he walks inside as she closes the door behind him.

“you weren’t here the other night.” he says, catching her slightly by surprise. had he been looking for her this time instead of the other way around?

“oh, yeah. i was off. i don’t work on tuesdays and thursdays,” she explains watching as he nodded before looking away with a sheepish expression. after their last encounter, she spent the entire week thinking about him — how he looked at her, how his hand felt against her bare skin. cleo didn’t understand how she developed such a quick attraction for him, especially when she didn’t even give human boys any time of the day, but something about him was different.

naomi was right, all it took was one look from him and cleo found herself a fallen victim to his charm. “why aren’t you scared of me?”

she’s taken aback again, even more so than the first time. “why do you want me to be?” she challenges, noticing the pull of his jaw as he clenches it shut.

“your daddy’s a preacher ain’t he?” she furrows her brow, curious to know how he’d figured that out without her telling him. “how you think he’d react if he knew you were stayin’ behind after work to talk to me?”

ah, so that’s what this is about.

“well aside from me being grown and fully capable of making my own decisions, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” and she would definitely keep this secret from him for his sake and hers. “elias—”

“stack.” he interrupts to correct her.

“elias,” she says, unmoored by his correction. he gives her a look but listens as she continued. “i’m not talking to you because i’m trying to prove something to my dad or anyone else here.”

“then why are you?”

“because i want to.” she exasperates, frowning slightly. “why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“because you don’t know what you’re gettin’ yourself into,” elias retorts through a forewarning tone that sounded all too familiar of her family and friends who initially warned her away from him. he was right, aside from the fictionalized information that she got through old cw shows she used to frequently watch, she didn’t understand the depth and complications that came along with being a vampire. but her interest in elias made her want to know more — she wanted the truth and all its ugliness.

“then show me.”

…

elias stack moore had a tarnished reputation way before he got bit and transformed into a vampire. albeit he was the more level headed of the two, the smoke-stack twins were well known for their violent behavior and short fused tempers. their involvement with the notorious al capone and then stack becoming involved in a near ritualistic slaughter hadn’t done anything to ease anyone’s perception of him. his reputation expanded over the near century with people reciting tales of his life; often times dramatizing it completely.

but regardless of the half-truths or stack’s solemn search for penance — he still remained feared to the point where people would refrain from staying outside at night too long just to avoid him. he kept mostly to himself, only indulging in his sexual needs with a few other vampires that lived amongst the town. if he did leave his house, he made sure it was brief just to avoid any inadvertent run in’s.

he knew he was feared and had stories told about him that would give kids nightmares. but she was surprisingly the only one that didn’t tremble in fear when she saw him or tightly clutch her cross necklace and recite scripture from the bible in hopes it would protect them and keep him away like everyone else did. instead of running she gravitated towards him; accepting and intrigued by him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

he was wary at first of getting close to her.

she had a reputation as the preacher’s sweet and innocent daughter. he could only imagine the outcry that would erupt if anyone were to find out that she had been talking to him. but cleo insisted that she didn’t care and expressed interest in wanting to see/know him — all of him. so he invited her to his house.

she came over at work — still dressed in those tight jeans and that cropped shirt that accentuated her lithe physique — all wide eyed and innocent and fucking gorgeous.

as soon as she stepped over the threshold and inside, he felt something shift in the air as he realized that she was the first girl he’d ever invited into his house. he watches her as she looks around spectatingly, crouching over a bit with her hands on her knees to look at the display of photos that he had. “your brother?” she asks rhetorically as she looked at the candid black-and-white photograph that he had of him and smoke taken years back during the time of their youth.

stack nods tersely, pursing his lips in a moue.

and he’s grateful that she notices his reluctance and doesn’t prod any further because even though it’s been over a century since his brother’s death, it was still hurt carrying him around in his memories.

it’s stack who segues the conversation, now turning the spotlight on her. “you said you wanted me to show you, so what do you wanna know?”

cleo bites her lip in thought. stack’s mind is briefly distracted with how sexy she looks that he doesn’t initially hear her question until she asks it again.

“it took me a while to learn how to do it. i taught myself most of what i know, the guy who turned my ex that turned me didn’t teach me much. but it’s the first thing i taught myself.”

she nods, biting on her lip again as she lowered her eyes in a shy chagrin. “so that night at the bar…when you sniffed me what did you smell?”

“you really wanna know?” she looks up, almost contemplative, but nods. “lust. your hormones were all over the place.” her expression’s caught somewhere between mortification and a grimace. “my hearin’ is heightened too…i can hear your heart beatin’ fast as hell. you nervous?”

at her nod, he posits. “cause of me? why do i make you nervous?” he takes a preemptive step towards her, closing the distance between them. he hears her pulse quicken. smells the saltiness of sweat underneath the floral saccharine of her perfume.

she doesn’t respond, only looks at him underneath her lashes. “what else do want me to show you, cleo?” her breath hitches, eyes flit from his lips back up to his eyes in a quick maneuver. her heart beats louder and the smell of her arousal is so thick that he can almost taste it on his tongue. he inhales her scent; feeling his own arousal mix with hers.

he sees her throat stretch as she swallows.

…

it’s almost feral how he bares an arm around her waist and tugged her body closer to his. she gasps a bit at his onslaught — startled by the abruptness of his movements, but she’s immediately relaxing into his embrace the moment he brushes his mouth against hers. he kisses her with a ravenous vigor, sliding his tongue over the cupping of her lower lip as a terse plea for entry. she whimpers before she succumbs to his prowess, slacking her jaw wider as he intertwined their tongues.

his kisses are bruising and greedy to the point where he steals all the air that was in her lungs. it’s a slip of tongues and a crash of teeth messily colliding, through guttural groans and breathy whimpers. stack’s arms tighten their hold around her before lowering to her ass. he squeezes her through her jeans before giving it a firm smack; smirking at the way it ricocheted. he gives it another hard squeeze as his mouth nipped at the exposed flesh of her neck. “tell me what you want,” he rasps; gruff and throaty, his breath hot against her skin.

his lips pucker as he nipped at her skin; sucking deep, purple love-bites all over. (and it feels so good that she doesn’t even care that she’ll have to cover up the evidence of his markings with makeup to hide from her father and naomi.) she grips the back of his head, holding him against her as she fluttered her lashes and indulged in the pleasure.

“this,” she whispered, voice shaky, body trembling with an intense want. he groans against her neck; alternating between nipping and sucking. and he gets too into it because she hears a low sound that mimics a growl and feels the sharpness of his fangs grazing her clavicle. she gasps, taken back and he’s immediately recoiling — looking up at her with his swollen lips and lidded eyes.

“fuck. i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—sometimes when i get too excited it happens. but i wasn’t trying to…” he’s panicking, careening apologies to her. but she’s sliding her mouth over his and kissing him deeply with fervor.

“it’s okay,” she whispers, still pecking at his lips.

stack furrows his brow, “yeah?”

“just don’t bite too hard.”

he nods, lightly grazing his teeth into the softness of her flesh. he nibbles at her neck with the tip of his bared fangs biting deliciously into her skin. the pain is sharp but still pleasurable enough to have her eyes rolling to the back of her head. his hands make their way to the front of her body, sliding over her abdomen and hovering at the waistband of her jeans. she breathes softly through her parted lips, emanating a whimper when he bites into her lower lip. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs, reaching his hands between the crux of her thighs and sliding his thumb over her slit — passing the pleasure over the seam of her jeans.

her underwear suddenly becomes sticky with her arousal and knowing that he could smell it on her was sending her over the edge. she feels this incessant pleasure building; coiling in her stomach and spreading through the heat of the place where she desired him the most. “can i taste you?” at her consenting nod, he maneuvers them towards the couch and eases her down onto the cushion.

he pries their wet lips apart with a ‘smack’, a string of saliva draws at their disconnection. she holds the smother head of his gaze, watching as he lowers to his knees. “lift your hips up for me,” he murmurs, already working at the buttons and zippers of her pants that loosen around her hips.

she concedes, arching her hips off of the couch just enough so that stack’s hands are able to tug the tight fitted fabric over her hips and down her thighs. “look at you,” he says; marveling at the sight of her arousal. the dark spot is visible against her pink underwear — soddening through the fabric. “already so wet and ready for me.” he kisses the inside of her thighs, nudging the bridge of his nose against her cunt.

she shivers through a moan, it’s just the barest of contact but she’s hypersensitive to his touch. his deft fingers pull at her ruined underwear, sliding them down her legs and absentmindedly throwing them aside so that she’s sat completely bare in front of him.

her cheeks warm at her vulnerability.

stack’s hand brushes against her calf as he gripped her leg and hefted it easily over his left shoulder. his eyes hone in on her cunt as she spreads open; staring in awe at the slick that’s gathered between her folds. he grabs at her other leg, barring it around his right shoulder until he’s got a perfect position of her cunt displayed in front of him.

cleo arches her hips slightly, holding herself upright as she rests the palms of her hand against the cushions. her heartbeat quickens at the desire that grows, palpable and thick in its emerging, sending another jolting throb directly into her cunt. she could feel the wisps of his breath as he leaned in. he brushes a teasing kiss against her thigh, humming softly at the way she shivers in response.

he nudged himself closer towards her cunt; pressing soft kisses against her skin in passing before he finally reaches the place where he could smell the the evidence of her want. he presses a kiss against it and she shudders, feeling the tension roll down her spine and curl into her toes. she doesn’t even have a moment to gather her bearings, because then he’s flattening his tongue and licking her up from the back of her perineum to her clitoris. “oh—fuck. s-stack,” she bellows a soft cry of pleasure, her hands grip into the couch to seek purchase.

and when he reaches the over sensitive bud, he puckers his swollen lips and sucks her into his mouth; skillfully using his tongue to massage her clit. she feels the texture of his tongue stimulating her clit, sending an overwhelming wave of pleasure burning through the crevices of her body. her breath catches in her throat and she’s shivering so hard that stack has to pull his mouth away to remind her to breathe.

she nods numbly, blinking through the fogginess of her vision. she parts her lips and exhaled shakily; attempting to lull her breathing. “grind your hips against my face,” she whimpers, reaching a hand up to hold the back of his neck to anchor herself as she slowly rolled her hips against his face.

“ohmygo—” the added pressure of his nose and tongue assaulting her clit has her dizzy. his hands grip her hips, fingers dig into the meat of her thighs holding her against him.

he makes his way up her vulva; pausing right before he reached her clit and increased the pressure so that the base of his tongue was forced slightly under her clit. he slows his movements, unrelentingly in his ravenous feat as he holds the pressure there. she grinds against him again, shaky, still trembling through her movements as she buried his face deeper into her cunt.

she could hear the lewd stickiness of her slick as he licked up her pussy; could see it glistening over his face — a messy mixture of her arousal and his saliva dripping down his chin. she’s already shaking towards her release but then he grazes his fangs softly against her clit and she’s suddenly bellowing out cries of pleasure as she cums.

she pulsates around his tongue, the tension tugs in her lower belly. he slides his thumb through her slickness, watching as she haphazardly falls backwards against the couch cowering away from the overstimulation. stack pulls away, lapping his tongue around his mouth as he licked up the remnants of her slick. “you okay?” he asked through a rasped breath, watching as she laid there in a dazed stupor.

she nods, just barely, feeling the heaviness of her breathing begin to lull. cleo never thought that someone as smart as her would be drawn into the temptation from a vampire, but here she was — with her cunt still throbbing around nothing, legs and body completely spent, eyes looking at his face that’s covered in her juices, and it entices her.

and it’s then that she realizes that she was totally and completely fucked. he’d warned her that she didn’t know what she would be getting herself into if she became involved with him but with the way he ate her pussy out so good and had her wanting more, cleo realized that she was willing to test the boundaries of her restraint.

…

cleo didn’t like lying, she’s always prided herself about being a truthful person regardless of the repercussions that could follow. she didn’t like people lying to her so in return, she treated everyone with the same decency of respect and remained truthful about everything. it’s not until she starts dating stack that lying easily becomes integrated into her life.

she goes to church with her father every sunday, sits in the front pew and listens as he recites sermons and scriptures about demons and evils that plagued the world. it guilted her knowing that he was wistfully unaware of the fact that she was bedding with someone he referred to as one of the demons that walked amongst them, but the way he made her feel was better than anything she’s ever experienced before.

so she keeps the secret buried deeply, and listens halfheartedly at his preachings as she finds her mind wandering on stack again. it’s easier to hide behind her fib with her father, but naomi’s naturally pestering curiosity always gets the better of her and a simple response of “i already have something planned.” does not offer enough of a rational explanation for her.

“you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks…” she acknowledges with a skeptical brow and pursed lips. she narrows her gaze in on cleo who desperately hopes that she doesn’t look too hard enough to see the hickies stack sucked on her shoulder and breast the other night. “you’re here during the day, but always sneak out to go somewhere at night like you’re meeting someone,” she accents, her perception’s dangerously close to discovering cleo’s secret.

“i’m not.” the lie falls disbelieving to both of their ears. naomi gives her a narrowed look, tilting her head. she bites on her lip in contemplation, sighing softly as she concedes. “okay! but you can’t say anything to anyone especially not my dad.”

naomi gives her a bemused look but nods.

“i might be seeing someone,” cleo murmurs, averting her eyes to naomi to see her eyebrows raise. “i am seeing someone. but don’t ask who! because i’m not going to tell you who it is. i’m only telling you this because i know you wouldn’t stop hounding me if i didn’t.”

naomi stands there quiet, considering her words. “is he married?”

“what!?” cleo beseeches, frowning at her friend’s absurd accusation. “girl, no! i am not a fucking homewrecker!”

“hey, it’s a fair assumption!” naomi rebuttals, raising her hands in the air at her defense. “you’re being sneaky and sleeping over at his place at night… it made me think that you only go over there because that’s the only time that you’re allowed to.”

“no. i’m not fucking a married man.” cleo states. she continued to stuff her clothes in her overnight bag, avid to get to stack’s place. she could feel naomi’s he eyes still piercing through her, curiosity sits on her tongue wanting to inquire further about the guy’s identity. but she thankfully relents, only giving cleo a hum of acknowledgment when she grabs her bag and clamors a parting bye as she walks out.

when she arrives at his house, she’s greeted with a smile and kiss, his arm wraps around her waist as she melts softly into the embrace. he maneuvers her bag from her hands, allowing to to fall absentmindedly to the floor with a loud thud. his hands are groping her everywhere; sliding over her ass, squeezing her titties, palming her cunt through the flimsy pair of leggings that she wore. it’s almost feral how both of their bodies aligned with the same wanton desire.

she loves how the outside world becomes a distant memory for them as they remain secluded in the privacy of his house with no worries of interruption or ridicule waiting. “if you had any common sense you’d stay away from him,” had been a warning, but she found herself gravitating towards him despite their attempts of deterrence. and she had no intentions of letting go of this feeling or him.

[p1astr81]

hi again! i adore your writing style and think it would be cute for oscar to secretly learn how to braid hair and after reader and oscar haven’t seen each other in a while he’s really excited to show his new skill (love the polite cat vibes)

- 🧡

You sat in front of the full length mirror. He watched from across the room as your fingers twisted in your hair, trying to braid it without being able to see it. Though you tried to keep it contained, could feel your frustration.

The hair band twisted around the end of the braid. You dropped your hands to your lap once you were finished. “That’s as good as it’s gonna get.” You sighed. He could hear the disappointment in your voice.

He came up behind you, inspecting your hair. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he propped his chin on the top of your head. “It looks great, baby. Stop worrying.” He eased, kissing your head.

“You have to say that. You’re my boyfriend.” You grumbled, but you still relaxed in his hold.

Admittedly, it didn’t look perfect, but it wasn’t terrible. It just wasn’t even, one strand having slightly more hair, too loose in some places and too tight in others.

“Maybe, but it looks fine.”

You hummed. “Well, does it look good or fine? Pick one.”

“It looks good.” Maybe he was lying a little, but he was just trying to ease your worried. And besides, it didn’t look all that bad.

He was at home with his family for a week while you were staying with yours.

“Mae?” He called.

She hummed in response, popping another chip in her mouth.

“Can I braid your hair?” He asked nervously.

She paused, eyeing him with suspicion. “I guess.” She shrugged.

He tried to work on memory, recalling how you’d twist one strand around the other. When he was done, it was very, very ugly.

“What is that?” Hattie asked, condensing of the sight in front of her. “You can do better than that.”

He shrugged. “That’s the best I could do.”

“Alright, undo it. I’ll teach you.”

He listened while Hattie shouted instructions at him.

“Those pieces aren’t even.”

“No, pull it tighter.”

“Don’t let go of the strands.”

“Oscar, you’re terrible at this.” She criticized. “But I guess it’s better than the first attempt.” She grimaced.

Sighing, he sat next to Mae. “I tried.”

A chip was held out to him. He took it. “Why do you want to know how to braid anyway?” Mae asked.

It took him a moment to respond, knowing what the response from his sisters would be. “Well, y/n couldn’t braid her hair so I thought that I could learn and do it for her next time.”

The room was silent for a moment before Hattie broke it with her laughter. “Oh you are down bad!”

Edie shrugged. “I don’t know, I think it’s cute. And nice.”

Every day, Oscar would ask Mae if he could practice on her hair. She agreed every time, though not very thrilled about it.

By the last day, he’d finally gotten the hang of it.

“Well, it’s not perfect. Definitely a little loose, but it’s good!” Hattie gave him a look of approval.

The next time he saw you struggling to braid your hair, he smiled.

He came up behind you, a hand on your hip. “Can I try?” He asked, nervous but excited to show you his new skill. You furrowed your brows at him, but agreed with a nod anyway.

You watched him through the mirror. Smiled at the way his tongue poked out in concentration, the furrow of his brows.

“Since when did you know how to braid?” You laughed softly.

“Uh, Hattie taught me.” He mumbled, more focused on the braid and remembering everything his sister taught him. Tension. Even parts.

He stepped back once he was done. “How’s that?” He asked nervously.

You twisted, looking at the braid through the mirror. You ran your hand over it, laughing in disbelief. “It looks amazing, thank you, Osc.” He smiled proudly. You turned to face him, littering his face in kisses to thank him even more.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part eleven

summary:

“You’re joking, right? You’ve never been interested in a real relationship and you talk to this girl for five minutes and suddenly you’re ready to settle down?” you snorted and Rafe glanced over at you, his eyes finding yours.

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

OR; you reap what you sow

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: kinda emotional damaging, idk what to tell you

word count: 2,4k

author’s note: okay so full psa I did kinda tear up a bit while writing this, but I'm also insanely sensitive so it doesn't have to mean anything idk lmfao I just wanted to warn you beforehand. either way, this chapter also is heavily inspired by is it over now by Taylor swift so do with that info what you will. hope you enjoy it my lovelies <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. eleven: “look at this idiotic fool that you made me” alternatively: "I think about jumping"

“He is smitten with you, girl. You’re blind if you don’t see that.”

The words kept echoing in your head, even after the dark had settled over Nassau, even as you stood in line for the new club Kelce was raving about where you just had to go. You, Rafe and Topper knew better than to fight Kelce about this, so you all just agreed to go, especially because you had promised him earlier that day. You severely regretted that promise now, absolutely not in the right head to go clubbing.

The woman’s words made you question your entire friendship with Rafe. Had he been feeling the same way all along? Were you just to blind to see the signs? Or was that just some sales ploy, to get you to buy more?

“Hey, come on Precious.”

“What?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, as Rafe waved you forward. Without realizing, the line had moved and you were holding it up. Quickly, you joined your friends and Rafe furrowed his brows at you.

“You good?”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you tried to play it off. “Yeah, sorry. Just didn’t think it would take us this long to getting into a club.”

“Right right, precious is used to skipping the line,” Topper said with a nod, and you swatted his arm, grinning.

“Shut up, Top.”

“I promise it’s gonna be worth it,” Kelce said, looking over the heads of the people who were standing in line in front of you. “Only like, five more groups before we get to go in.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Rafe deadpanned and Kelce elbowed him as you laughed.

The time passed quickly as you waited, mostly spent with making fun of Kelce. When the bouncer finally gestured for you inside, the breath nearly stocked in your throat.

“Oh my god, I can barely even move.”

“It’s great, isn’t it!”

At least that was what you assumed Kelce said. It was so loud, you could barely hear yourself speak, let alone anyone else. You moved towards the bar, where you quickly claimed one of the last free stools, the boys crowding around you. Kelce’s head bopped to the music, clearly feeling it.

“Let’s go dance!”

“I need another drink for that,” Rafe snorted, while Topper nodded in agreement, Kelce’s eyes falling on you. You glanced over to the packed dance floor, then back to Kelce, who stretched his hand out to you.

“Come on, Precious.”

A dance wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it would shake out your nerves. Distract you.

“Fine,” you sighed, taking Kelce’s hand and he didn’t even waste a second to drag you towards the dance floor.

“Get me a drink!” you shouted over your shoulder to Rafe and Topper, who only gave you a nod, watching in amusement, but they soon disappeared behind dancing bodies.

You turned back to Kelce, who must have found a decent spot to dance in because he twirled you around, making you laugh, holding onto him when you finally stood straight again. The two of you quickly found your groove, moving to the loud music that was blasting through the speakers. You lost yourself in the music, your worries melting away as you only focused on the rhythm and the beat, that was so loud, you could feel it in your heart.

It wasn’t long until people started to edge closer to you, hoping for a change to share a dance or two. Kelce was quick to weed out the people, especially the ones who were coming up behind you. He seemed to approve of one guy, because he eagerly nodded at you, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Glancing over your shoulder, you could tell that the guy was cute, even with the strobing lights, his dark hair curling over his forehead and he had a nice smile. He just wasn’t Rafe.

You didn’t know how to tell Kelce nor this guy that you really weren’t interested, so you just let him dance behind you, what was the harm in one dance?

Kelce gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up, his focus quickly averted when a guy came up behind him, giving him a charming smile, and you could tell he was definitely Kelce’s type. They quickly melted into one, with the way they were dancing and you tried not to grin, happy that Kelce could forget about Malcolm, even if it was for only one night.

You really should take a page out of his book, but alas, you were just a girl.

“I think I need some air,” you told the guy behind you, offering him an apologetic smile. “Thanks for the dance!”

The guy seemed to take the hint, nodding at you with a small smile before you slipped through an opening in the crowd, trying to find your way off the dance floor. The bar was crowded, making it hard to try to spot Topper and Rafe. Craning your head, you finally found Rafe at the side of the bar, Topper nowhere to be seen.

Rafe’s back was towards you as you approached him, so you reached out to tap his shoulder.

“Hey, Rafe I-” the rest of your sentence got lost in your throat when he turned to you, revealing a pretty girl by his side. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.”

“Hey Precious,” Rafe greeted you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, so you were standing face to face with the girl, introducing you. “This is my best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Kayla,” the girl said with a bright smile, whereas yours was tight, forced, still trying to process what was happening.

The rest of their conversation passed you by like a blur, honest to god, you didn’t even want to hear what they were saying, but before you knew it, they bid their good byes. When Kayla disappeared from sight, you looked up at Rafe, and you wish you hadn’t.

He was still looking at the spot where Kayla had left.

You were a fucking fool.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to cockblock you,” you said, slipping out from under his arm, taking a sip from the cocktail that stood on the counter next to Rafe. It was strong, lots of rum, but that was exactly what you needed right now. If you were lucky, it’d make you forget the whole night.

“Cockblock me?” Rafe echoed, amused. “How do you know she only wanted to fuck?”

You took another huge sip of your drink because you were in no way drunk enough for this.

“Isn’t that why people talk to other people in a club? To get laid?”

“Think she wanted more than a hook up,” Rafe replied, lifting a piece of paper between his finger tips. You could only make out a row of digits before your eyes flitted to Rafe’s.

“You took her number?”

“She gave it to me.”

Scoffing, you drank the last of your cocktail, pushing the empty glass away from you, which Rafe eyed cautiously.

“You tossed that back in record time, precious, are you okay?” he asked, rubbing your back. You knew he meant well, he always did. But his gesture made you feel like a fucking kid, so you shrugged his hand off.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, annoyed. And because you couldn’t let it go, you asked: “Since when are you interested in anything else but a hook up?”

Rafe shrugged, taking a step away from you, reaching for his beer. “I don’t know. Guess I can see now what’s so apppealing about it.”

“You’re joking, right? You’ve never been interested in a real relationship and you talk to this girl for five minutes and suddenly you’re ready to settle down?” you snorted and Rafe glanced over at you, his eyes finding yours.

“Sometimes a risk is worth the reward, Precious.”

His eyes seemed to bore into yours, so you turned away, staring at the wall behind the bar.

“Just… whatever.”

You just had to ask, didn’t you?

You gripped the counter, your hands starting to shake. To your horror, you could feel tears welling up and you quickly dipped your head, in an attempt to hide your face. Really, here? Just because this girl seemed to have left such an impression on Rafe that he could imagine being in a relationship? With her? While all you, his best friend, were good for was a good fuck?

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Rafe shoving his beer on the counter, his hand coming up on your waist.

“Precious-”

Nope.

“Sorry, bathroom,” you pressed out, pushing away from the bar to flee towards the bathroom. The door hit the wall, since you basically kicked it open, nearly scaring the girl inside half to death, but you didn’t care. You pressed yourself against the wall, forehad resting against the cold tiles of the bathroom, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

How could you be so stupid? Here you were, having sex with your best friend because you told yourself, this. This was the only way you could have him, a relationship was never in the cards, because he just didn’t do them. Well, turned out he did. Just not with you.

You couldn’t believe you let a stranger’s words affect you like that, make yourself hope, that you could ever be more than just his best friend.

The girl came up behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You good girl?”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head.

“No. No I’m not.”

Someone crown you the biggest fucking idiot on the island.

The next day, you still felt like an idiot. If it were up to you, you’d be on the next flight home, but how would you explain that to your friends? It was just one more day, before you’d go home. You could last a day.

Luckily, Rafe seemed to think your behavior was due to the cocktail you had just poured back. He was waiting in front of the bathroom when you had come out, thinking you had thrown up.

If only he knew.

“You sure you can do boats right now?” Rafe asked, peering at you over his sun glasses. You were tempted to say no. “We could just go do something else, you and me.”

Yeah, that was not gonna happen.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you sighed, leaning back against the cushioned seat, your blue dress flaring out.

“You know, I get Precious getting to sit back and look pretty, but why are you not helping us?” Kelce asked, shoving the cooler on the floor. He and Topper had been walking back and forth on the marina, carrying food and drinks onto the boat.

Rafe shrugged, reaching for a beer in the cooler. “Well, how about the fact that this is my boat?”

“Told you not to bring it up,” Topper huffed, putting the two bags full of food on the table. “I knew he’d come up with some excuse.”

“Whatever,” Kelce grumbled, snatching the beer right out of Rafe’s hand before he could even get a drop.

Topper plopped down on the seat next to you, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “How’re you Precious?”

You threw a look at him. Out of the three boys, you knew Topper didn’t quite buy the whole “I drank too much” act.

“Fine,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, clearly not in the mood to elaborate. Rafe picked up on your tone, turning around to slap Topper on his cap.

“Hey, leave her alone.”

Topper pulled a face at him, but Rafe didn’t notice as he already turned away to start the engine, taking the boat out of the marina into the sea.

Despite your realizations from the previous night, you had a great time. You mostly pushed those thoughts away, trying to spend time with your best friends, because that was what they were, right? That was what Rafe was, first and foremost.

The sun had already started to set by the time you got back to the marina, the street lights flickering on.

“I’m gonna go pick up some food asap,” Kelce said, immediately getting off the boat. “I am starving.”

“I’ll get rid of the trash,” Topper said, yawning into his shoulder as he picked up the food wrappers, empty bottles and cans, collecting them in a bag, disappearing onto the pier as well.

You helped Rafe tie the boat, taking everything down, as it was gonna be a while again before someone used it.

“Think that’s it,” he said, throwing a look over the boat, and you gave him a thumbs up, ready to get back on land.

Suddenly his phone went off a couple of times, screen down on the console. It had been going off a lot today, you had noticed him on his phone a few times, but never really questioned it. At least you tried not to.

“Someone’s popular today,” you teased. “Who is it?”

Rafe shrugged, turning off the engine of the boat, ignoring his phone as it pinged once again.

“Oh come on,” you whined, reaching for his phone. “The least you can do is-“

Kaylas’s name flashed across the screen multiple times.

“-text back.”

You swallowed thickly, before you dangled his phone in front of him. “You texted her already?”

“I was bored.”

Rafe grabbed his phone from you, slipping it into his pocket, you barely put up a fight. Even though you had seen this coming a mile away, it still hurt.

“So you’re really serious about this wanting a relationship thing, huh?” you asked and Rafe lifted his head, looking at you.

“Yeah.”

You cleared your throat, nodding your head quickly. This was your own fault. You wanted too much, putting yourself in a position where you knew you’d get hurt.

Was it over then?

“Is it over now?”

“Yeah, Rafe,” you nodded, forcing a snort. “If you wanna get to know her for real, you shouldn’t be messing around with your best friend.”

“Right.”

Rafe’s voice was curt and you gave him a smile. “Let me know how that thing with Kayla goes,” you said, squeezing his arm before you turned your back to him, getting off the boat.

As your foot stepped onto the pier, your heart felt a little tight, as if someone had their fist around it. But the further you walked away from the boat, the freer you felt.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: feel free (like Precious LOL too early?) to come into my inbox hehehe I wanna know how you feel

[fawniswriting]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Synopsis: The story of a girl and her fallen flowers, as well as a boy who can't seem to forget either of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning(s): 1940s!Bucky. 1940s!reader. winter-soldier!Bucky. TFATWS!Bucky. non-linear timeline (time-jumps). childhood friends to lovers. kissing. profanities. canon typical violence. bucky in the electric chair. brief mention of suicidal thoughts. fluff. kinda cheesy if you squint. mild angst. implied death (?). platonic sambucky. bittersweet ending I guess?? (you'll see what I mean)

Author's Note: okayyy so this didn't quite turn out the way I thought it would, but I loveeedd the concept as soon as I got it in my head and still wanted to share this story with you guys 🥺 idk why I seem to struggle translating my ideas properly lately 🫠 anywho, this is officially the shortest piece I've ever written, and I'm actually kind of challenging myself to start writing shorter pieces because I always end up blabbering non-stop in my fics (a side effect to being a yapper, I guess 😭). but despite all, I hope you'll still like this one and find it enjoyable! ❤️ and if you do, please don't forget: like, comment, and reblog 💞

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“This is for you.”

Twelve-year-old Bucky Barnes looked up from the wriggling worm on the ground and squinted his eyes against the blinding sun. The sky of Brooklyn was the color of his eyes today, bright and vast as if someone had splashed a painter's brush across the horizon. Under the stretch of blue, his gaze landed on you—the new girl at school, the one his classmates had been whispering about since Mr. Morris decided to take everyone out to the park for today's PE lesson. 

Johnny Hurst told Bucky that you were the prettiest dame he had ever seen.

And boy, if the punk weren't telling the truth.

Bucky's eyes flitted over you from head to toe—taking in the slight tilt of your head, the subtle curve of your lips, and the worn blouse that clung to you at least half a size too big—before they finally landed on the hand outstretched towards him.

“What's this?” he asked.

“It's a flower.”

“I can see that.”

Abandoning the worm, Bucky rose to his feet and brushed the dust off his slacks. You observed his movements with fervor, your hand still curling around the yellow daffodil as if its petals held the cosmic tethers that kept the entire universe from falling apart.

You extended your palm further, positioning the flower directly under his nose until he could smell the fragrance caressing his cheeks.

“It's for you,” you repeated.

Bucky's eyes flicked twice between your face and the daffodil. “Is this a trick?”

“No.”

“Someone put you up to this?”

“No.”

“Where'd you get the flower?”

“From there.”

Bucky's eyes followed the direction of your finger, spotting the daffodil bushes located just a few paces ahead. Not in full bloom yet, but nearly. A golden oasis in the midst of a playground of gray and trampled grass.

You turned towards him again, your expression remaining unchanged as you told him, “I picked it up from the ground.”

Bucky stared at the daffodil in silence. “You're giving me a wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

There was a shadow appearing in the center of your forehead. Your fingertips twitched where they hovered attentively around the yellow petals, as though the accusation had offended you, as though Bucky had spoken blasphemy against the flower by calling it wilted.

“It's been on the ground,” Bucky pointed out.

“So? It simply fell off. Doesn't mean it's wilted.”

“Ain't that the same thing?”

“No.” You pouted, your forehead creasing deeper as your hand cradled the daffodil closer to your chest. “A wilted flower is dead. It doesn't have any love remaining inside it. This flower is not like that.”

And then, like some kind of switch had been flipped, you angled your head towards him—entwining his eyes with your steadfast gaze, rendering his legs motionless with the sight of a brilliant grin stretching across your beautiful face.

“This flower still has a lot of love to give to the world,” you proclaimed.

Bucky's heart stuttered.

It must have been a premonition from the heavens when Bucky's arm began lifting of its own accord, receiving the daffodil from your hand and relishing in the elated hum that the gesture elicited. The petals were delicate against the skin of his palm, and Bucky suddenly feared the possibility of crushing them due to his overt carelessness.

“She's yours now.” You beamed, swaying slightly on your feet as your hands clapped in infectious joy. “She'll give you all of her love if you promise to take care of her.”

His lips quirked. “It's a she?”

“Of course,” you replied, the sun glinting radiantly in your pupils. “All the beautiful things in life are a she.”

Bucky couldn't find it in himself to argue.

He watched you leave with heart on his sleeve, bewitched by the ribbon of your laughter dancing in the wind. His fingers curled protectively around the yellow daffodil, his heart singing in tandem with the rhythm of your skipping feet echoing through the earth.

“Hey!” Bucky called out. You stopped halfway in your tracks, smiling at him from the distance like his wildest daydreams made into flesh. “Why me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why'd you decide to give the flower to me?”

The grin on your face widened, and Bucky—bless his heart—thought for a moment that his entire limbs might collapse.

A breeze rustled the surrounding trees, cavorting around until it floated across your cheeks. You stumbled back a step upon its intrusion, your eyes peering shyly under the harsh judgment of the sun. And yet, your smile prevailed—still soft as a wisp, still managing to make Bucky's chest alight with something more precarious than a raging flame.

“Cause you're handsome,” you answered at last, the sound of your giggles resonating throughout the air and straight into Bucky's soul. “Take good care of her, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Blue eyes trailed along as you disappeared around the hedge, remnants of your melodic voice still dithering in the sky, a gentle lull against the wild thumping of his heart. As the world settled into its insipid normal, Bucky Barnes knew that there were two things of which he was absolutely certain.

One: the flower in his hand had now become the most prized possession in his otherwise monotone life.

And two: he had actually never told you his name.

Somehow, Bucky found that he didn't quite mind both.

“Say, handsome. Any chance you could tell a girl where to find a good time around here?”

Bucky hadn't even turned when the smile broke across his lips. 

His soul meandered towards your voice, his heart leaping out of its cage as he took in your entire figure for the first time that night—flowy dress and red lipstick, platform heels and a pair of lips that looked like they held whispers of a secret he would spend a lifetime trying to unravel. Your own smile blinded him as you approached closer, the cadence of your steps a harmonious symmetry with the surrounding ruckus of the carnival. 

“I'd show you a good time, doll.” He smirked once you stood in front of him, your chin tilting up in a way that made Bucky want to drop to his knees and worship the ground you had walked on. “All you gotta do is ask.”

“Really? Just ask?” You hummed, fluttering your lashes and sending a whole swing band loose in Bucky’s gut. “Shame. Here I thought I'd bargain a smooch for your company. Guess I'll just have to give it to someone else, then.”

You didn't have a chance to turn before Bucky yanked you back towards him, firm fingers curling around your wrist like a ship finally mooring to land. He swallowed your surprised yelp with a kiss, devouring your gasps as if the two of you weren't standing under caramel-slicked air and a parade of balloons and shrieks.

“Quit jokin’ about kissing someone else, sweetheart,” he rasped against your lips, fingers resolute where they squeezed around your hip. “Lest you're lookin’ to see me die of a heart attack.”

Your smile bloomed. “Then why don't you kiss me some more, Buck?”

He was more than happy to oblige.

His lips found yours again, slower this time, savoring every second as if he were living on borrowed time. The world around you faded away into an abstract background, centering you in the moment, where everything you yearned and cared for was the hint of sugar you could taste on your boyfriend's lips.

When the two of you parted for the second time, Bucky studied your face as though memorizing a miracle right before his very eyes. It made something stir in the depth of your chest.

“Got you something,” Bucky admitted, excitement and joy spilling out of his skin.

You waited patiently as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an eyeglass case that made your eyebrows pinch in wonder—since when did he wear glasses? But before you could ask, Bucky was already opening the lid, and the view of its content managed to coax a gasp of awe from somewhere within your ribs.

“Bucky, this is amazing.”

You picked up the tiny arrangement between your pointer and middle fingers, admiring the way the flowers were bound together into a miniscule bouquet. They were tethered to one another by a string of stem and twine, a thread of nature and mankind, existing side by side in an eternal waltz that fate had bestowed upon them.

Your chest tapered, bringing the tiny bouquet closer to your heart as you captured the giddy blue of Bucky’s eyes. “You made this yourself?”

“I did.” Bucky nodded, his chest inflating in a pale delight. “Well, Becca helped. Who could've guessed that tying a yarn around flower stems required nimble fingers, huh?”

You laughed along, concealing the way your insides were melting into a puddle as if this weren't the nicest gesture anyone had ever done for you.

“Ma gave me an earful when she saw me in the garden, dirt on my hands and knees, lookin’ for fallen blossoms. Said I'd better get some proper flowers for my girl if I didn't want her runnin’ off with another fella.” Bucky chuckled. “But I told her this was more special. After all, these buds ain't wilted yet, which means—”

“They still got love to give,” you whispered, void of air and yet brimming with boisterous affection. You kissed his chin and rewarded him a grin. “You know who else got love to give, Buck?” 

Bucky laughed, that rare, beautiful sound that always seemed too big for the world to hold. He cupped your cheek like he was holding a precious porcelain, leaning closer until your foreheads rested against one another.

"Yeah, sweetheart." He breathed, nudging his nose to yours. "I sure as hell do.”

“Mission report,” a voice commanded.

In the center of the room, the Soldat sat on a throne made of metal and terror. A cushion designed not for rest, but for bearing witness to the drips of blood pooling beneath restraint-bound limbs. Other soldiers stood all around the room, their cowardice louder than their breathing, their backs refusing to peel from the walls as if it could absolve them of their complicity.

The quiet stretched.

Out of the shadows, the tall, fiendish man emerged, carrying the kind of cruelty that even hell would cower from. He examined the Soldat and raised his eyebrows, noting down the asset's lack of response—an observation for later, an error to repair as if the Soldat had been a mere machine instead of a living soul.

The man stepped closer, repeating himself with a bellowing voice that would beckon the dead from their graves, “Mission report, Soldat.”

Still no answer.

The tension sweltered.

“What's wrong with him?” another man chimed in.

The first one shook his head, his mind already gearing, going through the motions on how he could pick apart and assemble the Soldat into something new, something better. But before he could jot down the evil plan on his notepad, his gaze slid downward, spotting the defensive curl of the Soldat's flesh fist hidden partly by his right thigh.

“There is something in his hand.”

The second man sprung into action, approaching the chair and demanding the frozen man on it to unclench his fingers, now. But the Soldat didn't move, not even a single indication to acknowledge the receival of the command. Even when the smack thundered across his cheek, the Soldat continued to stand his ground, a show of defiance through the very last thing he could still afford.

“Soldat.” The first man attempted again, a cold edge coursing through his words. “Give us what's in your hand before we put you back in the cryo.”

The Soldat didn't say anything, but his fingers flexed—just a tiny bit—though it was enough to help the second man pry the mysterious object out of the Soldat's hand.

“What is it?” the first man asked, a hint of impatience leaking through his practiced image.

“It's, uh… It's…” the second man stammered. 

He turned his palm around, confusion palpable in his eyes as he showed his colleague the mysterious object that the Soldat had guarded with more ferocity than any weapon they’d ever placed in his hands.

A slightly crumpled yellow daffodil.

“It's a flower?” the first man nearly roared. “It was just a fucking wilted flower?”

“It's not wilted.”

The room fell into an instantaneous hush. Every pair of eyes inside ambled towards the center of the room, towards the assassin who had just decided to break his silence over the trivial matter of flowers.

The first man turned towards the Soldat with a menacing stare, his eyes a pair of blades as he stepped closer towards the seat of torture, studying the Soldat who was still sitting stiffly as if awaiting the next round of nightmares. But beneath the blue eyes, usually steely and cold, something else had clawed its way through—something fiery and reckless, something akin to humanity.

The first man sneered, turning to the entire room to bark his orders, “Wipe him. And put him in the ice until further notice.”

People moved in a flurry of limbs as soon as the instruction had settled. Amidst the havoc, everybody failed to notice the silent tick of the Soldat's jaw, the scintillating shift of his pupils as unsolicited hands forced him back against the chair, strapping his entire body with restraints that felt more like burning coals against an expanse of skin.

The Soldat kept his eyes trained on the drab surface of the ceiling, bracing himself for the pain to come, for the same searing agony that had muddled his brain far too many times to count. He wouldn't remember much afterwards—wouldn't remember how desperately he kept wishing for death in those horrifying moments—but he would certainly remember the fear. Thrumming under his skin like lightning against a drowning man's ribs.

At the first descent of the machine upon each side of his head, the Soldat suddenly heard it—the voice. 

The one who wasn't his own but sounded like a missing piece of his soul.

The one who always appeared in times when he needed an anchor and something to hold.

The one who had told him to pick up the daffodil while he was on the field.

“Take it,” the voice had adjured. “Take the flower. It's not wilted yet, it has simply just fallen.”

So he did.

And right now, the voice was returning once more, only this time, it didn't come alone.

It came with flashes—images.

An image of laughter and smiles, of promises and dreams. An image of two bodies tangled beneath the sheets, spent breaths and a humming pleasure rushing through bloodstreams.

It came with an image of you.

“It's gonna be alright,” you told him, so gentle and kind that he almost believed it. “Everything's gonna be alright, honey. I'm right here with you.”

The machine awakened with an ominous snarl, triggering a low whine inside his skull, rising gradually until it split the edges of his mind apart. He tried to hold onto something, anything, but there was nothing left inside him except for scraps of bones and a heart mangled beyond any devastation the world could ever imagine.

He was no one. 

No name. No face. No soul. 

Just a body, wired and broken, as mechanical as the chair he sat upon.

As good as wilted.

“You're not wilted.”

The Soldat blinked.

“You've merely fallen, honey,” you assured, smiling so sweetly he could almost taste it on his tongue. “Fallen things aren't wilted. And fallen things—oh, sweetheart—they still have so much more love to give.”

“You dropped one, Sarah.”

Bucky bent down to pick up the flower on the floor, the one that had fatedly fallen from the bouquet of fragrance and colors that Sam's sister was currently moving to a clear vase. The petals fluttered like silk on the skin of Bucky's palm, and his knees nearly gave out from underneath him when he finally took a proper look at the blossom in his grasp.

A yellow daffodil.

“Just throw it away, Buck,” Sarah said from her place in the kitchen. She crumpled the parchment wrapper of the bouquet before throwing it into the bin, the arrangement of flowers now sitting proudly on the kitchen counter. “It's been on the ground, anyway.”

“Just ‘cause it's fallen, doesn't mean it's wilted yet.” Bucky sauntered towards the kitchen, stopping to position the bud amidst the array of petals and stems. “They still got a whole lot of love left to give, you know?”

Sarah's eyebrows rose.

Before she could comment on Bucky's surprising sentiment, Sam came striding into the house, his dark eyes immediately zeroing on the two people standing by the kitchen counter.

“What's this?” Sam asked, suspicion dripping from his voice. “Yo, man, I told you to stop flirting with my sis.”

“Nobody's flirting, Sam. We were just talking,” Bucky clarified. Then, just to ruffle Sam’s feathers, the super soldier flicked his gaze towards Sarah, tilting his lips in the way he used to do when he wanted to coax something out of you. “Right, Sarah?”

The woman giggled, and Bucky could almost beam in satisfaction at the imaginary smoke coming out of Sam's ears.

“He was just helping me, Sam,” Sarah told him. “One of the flowers fell, so he returned it to me.”

“Nuh uh. I don't believe that's all there is. That must be him tryna make a move. That was you making a move, isn't it?” Sam demanded, his gaze jerking aggressively between his sister and a smug Bucky. “What'd he tell you? Whatever it was, don't listen to it. Don't believe him. It's just a bunch of bullshit.”

“God, Sam, he didn't say anything.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “He just told me something about flowers. About how they aren't wilted if they fell, and… what was it again, Buck?”

The man tensed.

Bucky regained his composure in the blink of an eye, keeping the other two oblivious to the surge of turmoil that the simple question had sent. Keeping them in the dark about the way Bucky's heart had stumbled at the mere memory of your smile flaring across his mind and straight into his soul.

“It was nothing,” Bucky said. “Just a silly saying.”

“Oh, right!” Sarah snapped her fingers. “Fallen flowers still have lots of love to give.” She smiled proudly, eyes flickering towards Bucky with conspicuous excitement. “Was I right?”

Bucky's jaw clenched.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Sam questioned, his forehead knitting, vexation melting into incredulity. “That your game, Buck? Sounds lousy as hell.”

Bucky sighed. “Sam…”

“Did that kinda thing really work in the forties? ‘Cause damn, I could've been a real ladies man back then. Would've been so easy if all it took was one lame shit about flowers, and—hey, where you goin’?”

“Getting the hell away from you!”

Bucky heard Sam's laughter echoing from behind him, mocking and unaware of the wound in the former's chest that was beginning to crack and bleed all over the floor. The sound of your voice lingered in Bucky's mind, a ghost only he could hear, a cursed rapture that broke him apart at the seams before stitching him together all at once.

Before Bucky could exit the house, Sam's voice erupted again, “Hey! At least tell us how you got the idea for such a cheesy saying!”

“I didn't.” Bucky's grip contracted around the front door's handle, a shaky smile stretching his lips before he caught Sam's gaze from the distance. “Someone taught it to me. A long time ago.”

[everlastingserenitys]

POSIONOUS LOVEE

summ. oh no! the flower must’ve been infused with something else! now you both had to deal with each other.

featuring (separate). zayne, caleb cw. sex pollen, p in v, creampie, very needy men, some grammatical issues, kissing, NOT BASED OFF THE TRAILER!!!!, fingering, rocking chair oral sex (zayne), oral (f receiving from zayne), cunnilingus, public sex (caleb), 2k wc a/n. don’t mind my horny ass writing these 2 I'm sorry for no xav, raf, and sylus (thats for another time hehe) also the flowers have no significant meaning to them…totally

ZAYNE - JASMINE ݁˖ ❀ ⋆

"does it smell good?" zayne whispered, dangling the jasmine between both of your faces, the petals tickling against your nose for the second time already. you took another whiff, taking in the scent like it was your first time smelling it.

well, thats what it felt like. because this jasmine didn't smell like any usual jasmine zayne would give you.

you nodded and tried to lean in for more, but zayne pulled the flower back, placing it against his nose. you watched as he took a deep breath, letting the sweet aroma rush through him.

and suddenly, in a quick second, his eyes twisted from that dull look to something brighter, a glint of something you just couldn't tell what it was.

you bob your legs up and down and watch zayne's every move, your heart starts to thump louder and louder, the air in the room suddenly feels suffocating, your body is burning up.

god, what was in that flower?

you eyes darted from zayne's shaky look, to the flower still dangling around his fingers. he was feeling the same way too, and now since you both were on the same boat, you had to fix each other somehow.

before you could say anything, zayne got up from his seat and stumbled towards you, caging you with his arms as he stared down at you with a lustful look.

"I dont know what was in that flower, I swore I bought it off a safe si-"

you couldn't handle his voice anymore. your fingers slid against the collar of his shirt and you pulled him close to you, just being mere inches away from each other, his hot breath tickled against your skin and you looked up at him one more time before crashing your lips on his.

"I don't know what it was either," you mumble between kisses, pulling away and catching your breath to look at zayne's hungry stare.

"but it feels so good."

that caused a reaction out of zayne, cause the next thing you knew, you were getting pressed down against the chair, hard. the back of your shirt raising up as zayne slightly lifted you up on the chair.

the impact of the rocking chair was sending you into a spiral. your head kept hitting the back as the chair shook faster and faster. zayne's body weight pressed against you, and the rough leather of the chair scratched your back, you were too much in a daze to even process that zayne's lips already found its way to your neck.

he planted rough, desperate kisses along your neck, lightly nibbling on the skin, his breath was getting ragged, more louder, all you could do was slide your fingers around his neck and pull him closer than you could.

his warm skin made contact with yours and zayne pulled his head back to look up at you, desperation filled his eyes. you trace his jaw and lower your finger further down, staggering it finger against his adams apple.

a shaky breath escaped his lips and zaynes fingers grabbed onto your waist, toying with the waistband of your pants which were already slipping off.

“i’d never let myself near these types of things…” he mumbled, staring at your bare legs on display for him.

“i didn’t think it’d feel like this.” he said in a shaky voice, eyes rolling back at the impact of the aroma still lingering through your bodies, you can’t help but tilt your head back, bucking your hips forward.

zayne inched closer, his nose just lingering on your twitchy clit through your panties, he nuzzled his head deeper between your thighs and glanced up at you before darting his tongue on the wet lace.

you hold back a moan and watched as he practically was sucking out every juice out of you. his fingers—that had been caressing your sides the whole time, slid under your panties and he swiftly removed them.

his hands cup your knees and he slowly spreads your legs apart, taking his time with you like the day would last forever.

“d-do you know how long it—ngh?!”

zaynes tongue made its way back to your leaking cunt, he shoved himself deeper inside you, curling his tongue inside you, trying to hit every right spot.

“hey!” you moan, instinctively thrusting your hips deeper against him, causing the rocking chair to do more than just one thrust.

“hmm?” a groggily hum escaped zaynes lips as he continued his work on you, the drug had completely changed him and you, and fuck it felt like too much.

“zayne ‘m gonna-”

your chants filled the room and zayne kept his grip on your thighs, purposely ignoring every plea that’s escaping your lips, continuing to work his tongue against your already sensitive folds.

you slid your fingers through his hair and gripped on it like there was no tomorrow, a shaky moan left zaynes lips and you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“ah- sorry!” you mumble, lifting his head up to watch for his reaction but his face was the exact same. flushed, and his eyes were still filled with that glint of desire.

“it’s not often i ask this but…”

“hm?”

he let out a sigh and slid his fingers further down your legs, “more? i need it.”

CALEB - BLUE LOTUS ݁˖ ❀ ⋆

“it’s not often we go flower picking, pips.” caleb said, his voice laced with enthusiasm as he walked through the grassy meadows, hands brushing along every long stem that poked out the grass.

“yeaaahh, we’re totally going to find flowers in an area like this..” you say in a low voice, looking at the scenery around you.

there was nothing but grass, maybe a few flowers here and there but it just felt so empty, too empty to even find a decent flower around.

“c’mon have some hope, will ya?” caleb chuckled, grabbing onto your wrist as he started to jog along the path.

“wh- caleb!” you giggle as your legs quicken at the pace he was going at, and too caleb was just aimlessly running along the field.

a few minutes passed and the two of you got tired, neither of you had an idea where you were but the sounds of birds chirping nearby, and the smell of water nearby made you get an idea.

“this way caleb,” you point to a hidden path, covered by the grass and caleb’s gaze follows the direction where your finger was pointed.

he nodded and dragged you through the path. eventually, after walking for a bit you ended up at a beautiful pond, birds flying everywhere and this, this was where you could find nice flowers.

“caleb the pond has pretty flowers!” you walk over to the glistening area of water and sit along the edges, toying with the grass sticking out the water.

“pretty, right?” he said, picking up a flower from the pond and swirling it around his fingers, a small smirk rested on his lips before he pressed the flower against your nose, sifting it left and right.

the petals tickled your nose, you leaned in closer taking a quick smell of it…and it smelt sweet.

too sweet.

in a quick second, your mood changed, it was like you needed more. you lunged at the flower again and took a deep breath, letting the sweet pheromones rush through your body again.

“pips..?” caleb asked, a hint of amusement and curiosity filled his voice, he pulled the flower away from you and rested it against his nose, taking in the smell of the intoxicating flower.

“smells good..” he mumbled, taking more of the scent as he stared into your dazed eyes. you nod and lean in closer, both your lips being centimeters away from each other, it’s just the flower that was in the way.

you look at the flower and back at caleb whose eyes are locked on you. you rested your fingers on his hand that was holding onto the flower and subtly grazed your fingers along his hand, and soon, pushed the flower away.

the second the flower fell on the ground, caleb grabbed onto your face with fierce force and crashed his lips on yours, his tongue darting at the small open space between your lips.

he was devouring you.

devouring you like a fucking animal.

you didn’t realize that you both were on the ground, caleb’s hand rested on the back of your head as he continued pressing himself against you.

“what is this pipsqueak?” he mumbled, sliding his free hand along the curves of your body, soon making its way to the waistband of your pants, lightly tugging at it.

you let out a low hum and grab the flower, twirling it between your fingers as you stared at caleb who was already removing your pants, he was practically ripping them off like it was something he strived for survival.

once your lower half was exposed to Caleb, he slid a finger against your twitchy clit, rubbing and pressing on it, a wave of pleasure washed through you as you slightly lifted your hips, silently begging for more.

whatever it was doing this to you, felt too good, way too good. his fingers felt like it was the first time he's doing this to you. after a bit, Caleb pulled his fingers out, watching the mess drip down on the grass and on his fingers.

he lifted your legs above his shoulders and pressed himself against you. the rough fabric of his pants made contact with your exposed, leaking pussy and a spark of shock went through you.

Caleb continued to dry hump himself against you, to get the tension up but his hands were rejecting him to stay put, he slid a hand off your ankles and placed them on his belt, removing his pants in a quick movement.

"it feels good pipsqueak..." he mumbled, pulling out his cock and pressing his leaking tip against your stretched out cunt. you whine in response and Caleb pushed himself deep inside you without warning you.

"so good, it feels–ngh so, soo good"

whines and moans echoed through the secluded forest, there was no audience around but it felt like anyone could walk in by now. you nod repeatedly thrusting yourself deeper inside him, not caring that you're outside, the butterflies in your stomach started to beat faster and faster.

"gonna come..." Caleb groaned, grabbing onto your ankles tighter, as he thrusted himself deeper. the feeling of you getting filled up by him felt too good, he continued to fuck in your leaking pussy, drooling with his cum which was seeping out of you each thrust he gave.

Caleb grabbed onto the flower which was resting on your chest and gave it a quick smell, again. he then took his other hand off your leg and plucked each petal one by one, scattering it all over your body.

"im close ca-" before you could finish your sentence you felt his soft lips make contact with yours, except something was in the way. you winked open an eye and noticed the plucked out flower resting between the two of your lips.

"let it out..." he whispered between kisses, wrapping his hands around your neck as he pulled you closer than ever, letting you savour every second of this unexpected desire.

a/n. so sorry you could tell who the favorite was, I will practice on my zayne smut later

[cameronsprincess]

hi girl, i have a request: reader is pregnant and is insecure about her body due to pregnancy (weight gain, larger hips, stretch marks etc) and rafe eats her out and takes her from behind in front of a mirror to show her that she is beautiful🫶🏽

i love me some sweet, baby daddy rafe😭 also i didn’t do mirror sex bc i didn’t want this to be TOO long as my first fic after months and i wanna slowly work my way back into my writing, but i hope y’all enjoy and i’m happy to be back🩵

CW: smut and fluff! 18+ only! pregnancy, insecurities, sweet!rafe, lots of reassuring words, oral (fem receiving), soft ending with cuddling and sweet words!

masterlists.

getting pregnant was always in the cards for you and rafe. it was something both of you had wanted for as long as you could remember, and you were happy about it, you were…

but the changes in your body were enough to make you hate yourself a little more than before. your hips were wider, your stomach and thighs had stretch marks all over them, you’d gained a total of thirty pounds already, and it was all too much for you to take in and accept.

you were worried rafe would find you unattractive, afraid he’d want nothing to do with you now that you were fat and swollen with his child.

it’s a ridiculous thought, really, rafe isn’t that kind of person, at least, not with you he isn’t. but the thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘i’m not pretty anymore’ consumed your mind way more often than thoughts of how rafe would never turn his back on you, especially not when you’re literally carrying a part of him inside you.

you’re sitting on the side of your bed, hands splayed on your round stomach as you stare back at your new reflection in the mirror that’s sat against the wall in your room. you let out a loud sigh, tears welling in your eyes as you stand, turning to the side. your head cocks slightly to the side, taking in your swollen ankles, the stretch marks that span across your belly and thighs, and finally, your face and the puffiness of it from all the crying you’d done today alone.

“i’m creating life… i’m still beautiful.” you say to yourself, silently repeating the words over and over, hoping they’ll stick and you’ll believe them.

a tear slips down your cheek and you quickly wipe it away, anger and frustration beginning to take over your mind. you don’t want to feel this way, but you can’t help it, you just can’t seem to be okay with the changes in your body.

with a loud sigh, you turn away from the mirror, tossing yourself onto the bed and letting the tears fall. you’re a mess, your chest tight and face burning from how hard you’re crying. this probably isn’t good for the baby, but you can’t seem to stop the tears from falling, you can’t stop the heaving of your chest as you suck in sporadic breaths.

the sound of the front door opening and shutting, followed by rafe’s voice flowing up the stairs has you quickly wiping your tears, forcing yourself to close your eyes and take slow, deep breaths, calming yourself.

“baby? you up here?” rafe asks, his dress shoes clicking against the wood with each step he takes up the spiral staircase.

by the time he reaches your bedroom door, you’re calm, chest rising and falling slowly with even breaths as you pretend to be asleep. rafe slowly makes his way toward the bed, his hand reaching out and swiping a piece of hair out of your face. you very slightly and discreetly pop one eye open, seeing the look of concern etched on his face as he stares down at you.

sighing, rafe rubs a thumb across your cheek, “baby… you can open your eyes i know you’re faking,” he pauses to rake his fingers through your slightly knotted hair. “why have you been crying… c’mon, talk to me, because i’m not letting this go. you’ve been crying a lot more than normal lately, and i want to know why. let me help you.”

another tear slips down your cheek, and you exhale deeply, opening your eyes and meeting rafe’s bright blue gaze. his face falls even further when he notices the redness of your eyes and how puffy they are from crying.

rafe kicks off his shoes before he’s climbing into the bed with you, his strong arms wrapping around your body and pulling you into him. his hands rub softly at your swollen belly, his face buried into the crook of your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses at the skin as he whispers sweet words against your skin.

“you’re beautiful, too beautiful to be doin’ all this crying… you know that right?”

you bite down on your bottom lip, closing your fingers around his. you sniffle, squeezing your eyes shut to let more tears fall down your cheeks.

rafe sucks his teeth, pushing himself off of you and sitting on the bed. you can feel his anger emitting from him. is he mad at you? or just at the fact that you can’t accept his compliment? that you can’t believe the words he’s saying.

you squeal loudly when rafe’s large hand is gripping your upper arm, pulling you off your side and onto your back. you huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “raaaaafe, stop! i’m not in the mood.”

“i don’t give a fuck, look at me.”

you don’t listen, keeping your eyes closed and your arms crossed.

rafe huffs out a deep sigh, “baby, now. open your fucking eyes and look at me.”

you finally pop an eye open, finding rafe’s intense stare laser focused on you. his jaw is clenched, that muscle in his jaw ticking and his nostrils flaring. his lips thin as he rolls his neck side to side. “tell me, what’s the matter with you?”

“nothing…” you answer too quickly, the shake and uncertainty in your tone giving you away.

“you’re a bad liar, always have been,” he laughs, his eyes dropping to the ground before sliding back up to you. “now, be honest. what’s the matter?”

the words fly out of your mouth before you can even fully think them through, fresh tears welling up in your eyes as you speak the words aloud. “i can’t accept my new body, the weight gain, the stretch marks, the swelling… my hips are fucking wider than they’ve ever been, my tits have grown ten sizes, my feet and ankles and face is always swollen, and i just-”

“alright let me stop you there.” rafe says sternly, holding a hand up, effectively silencing you.

he stands from the bed, undoing his tie and pulling it free from his neck before he moves to unbutton his shirt. he slowly undoes every button on his shirt, finally popping the last one and letting his shirt fall open, exposing his tanned and toned stomach, the gold chain with your initial laying flat against his broad chest. you squeeze your thighs together, an arch forming between your legs. you’ll never tire of staring at him, he’s the most perfect fucking man you’d ever laid eyes on.

rafe slowly makes his way toward you, his eyes darkening over as he eyes your body from your head down to your freshly painted toes— you thought doing your toes would help you feel a little better, it didn’t.

he stops at the side of the bed, eyes blazing with fire as he slowly undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor once he pulls it through the loops of his khakis. you watch him intently as he pops the button on his khakis, pulling the zipper down slowly next. your heart ratchets up a notch in your chest when he climbs onto the bed, hovering over you, both his hands on either side of your head.

“please don’t tell me you truly think you’re any less fucking beautiful, perfect, whatever… because you’re pregnant? you’re carrying my baby, you’re creating life. part me… part you… and you’re, what? hating the body changes that come with it?”

your eyes find his, cheeks heating up as he stares down at you, that fire still burning in his beautiful blue pools. slowly, you nod your head, shame and guilt for feeling the way you do engulfing you.

rafe’s eyes turn a shade darker, his pupils dilating until nothing but black covers his eyes. he shakes his head, sucking his teeth, “now that… that’s a problem, baby.”

you open your mouth to speak, but rafe’s lips smashing against yours has the words dying on your tongue. he kisses you slowly at first, but the kiss quickly turns hot and brutal. you softly groan against his lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. he claims your mouth with his, only breaking the kiss to press kisses along your jaw and neck.

rafe situates himself on his knees, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it to the floor before he’s dropping onto his stomach. his hands grip your thighs tightly, burying his face between your thighs and inhaling your scent. he runs his hands up your legs, his fingers toying with the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs slowly.

a low rumble forms deep in his chest when he sees you’d decided to go commando today. “fuck.. you’re already so wet baby..” he presses a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his teeth lightly nipping at the tender flesh. “i’m going to show you just how fucking perfect you are, no matter what, you’re goddamn beautiful to me, understand?” he rasps, inhaling the scent of your arousal again, his hips pressing into the mattress as he does.

“y-yes… okay..”

he smiles up at you, “good girl, lay back, and let me show you how fucking perfect you are to me.”

your head falls back into your plush pillow, a moan slipping from your lips when his tongue slowly slides through your slit and up to your clit. his teeth lightly bite at your sensitive bud and your thighs tighten around his head. “oh god, rafe…”

he hums against your pussy, the vibrations making your hips involuntarily buck upward. rafe makes quick work of fucking you with his tongue, long, slow licks through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshly against it. you gasp, hands flying to his head and running your palms over his buzzed hair.

rafe lifts his head from between your legs, giving you a soft smile, “you taste so damn good, baby, wanna eat this pussy for the rest of my life.”

his lips wrap around your clit once more, two fingers slowly pushing into your soaked pussy. he curls his fingers, slowly pushing them in and out of you as he continues to suck on your clit. pressure builds low in your belly, that feeling of needing to relieve your bladder growing as rafe continues the movements with his fingers and mouth. you cry out his name, that pressure building and building until the pressure snaps and you’re squirting all over rafe’s face and hand.

you fall limp beneath rafe’s body, shaking and trying to calm your breathing as he pulls himself from between your thighs. he climbs up your body, kissing softly at your stomach and whispering sweet words to your baby before he plops on his back beside you.

he turns onto his side, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into him, kissing at your face softly. “i never want to hear or see you hating on yourself again, do you understand me baby?”

you slowly nod your head, a tear falling down your cheek. rafe kisses the tears away, soft praises leaving his lips as he runs his hand softly up and down your back.

“and no more crying. at least not over this. you’re too beautiful to cry over things that aren’t true. i will never think you’re anything less than beautiful, i will never stop loving you. you’re mine forever, you’re creating life right now, our baby, remember that! you’re fucking perfect, y/n.”

you snuggle into rafe’s chest, letting his words sink in and fully believing everything he’s saying.

“i love you, rafe… thank you.”

he kisses the top of your head, breathing you in as he closes his eyes. “i love you too, baby.”

tagging some moots: @memoirofasparklemuff1n @matthewssweetheart @rafesthroatbaby @maybejj @dollyfiles @cherrygirlfriend @rowdydevs @rafesheaven @nemesyaaa @rafesbabygirlx @hauntedfawnn (i will be setting up a taglist form again and will post it later for those who want to fill it out and join, it’ll just be easier for me to do that again.)

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Jack Abbot x intern!f!reader

Warnings: Jack POV, age gap, voilence against healthcare workers, violence against violent patients, talks of murder, trauma response, Jack is working through his emotional constipation, realisation of feelings, angst, Jack Abbot it down baaaaaad.

Summary: After his intern is attacked by a patient Jack Abbot has to face the fact that pushing people away might not always lead to the best outcome.

A/N: Okay, so this is lowkey a miracle…I don‘t know how I was able to write it this quickly, but here is the Jack POV companion chapter to Part 5, also we get some insight into things reader did not know about. Sooo, there will be two more chapters, mabye more, I don‘t know, I just love them your honor. Also I feel like I could also write this entire series from Jack‘s POV for a second time because it was so fun to work through how he feels about this situation and how he handles it. Hope you enjoy this :)

Shift change had gone smoothly for once, a relief if he was honest with himself. Though there was a small voice in the back of his head telling him not to trust the calm. Shaking his head he tried to get rid of the feeling that had attached itself to his mind like a tick, looking over at one of the work stations he saw his intern standing there. A chart clutched in her hands, her brows furrowed while she read through it.

Suppressing a smile at her expression he glanced at the chart in his hands. It was strangely empty for a Friday afternoon, usually it would be flooded with people that had done something stupid to start off the weekend. He hoped for the best regarding traumas, he was not sure if she could handle another day where people died like flies. The deaths had not hurt him, not really, he had gotten used to it by now, of course they stung, but that pain he had seen in her eyes was long gone from his mind. Still, when he had seen her empty stare and seen the tears he had felt so helpless. It was something he hated more than anything, he was usually in control, usually in charge of the situations he was in, but at that moment he felt like he had lost all sense of control.

He simply couldn’t resist anymore, comforting her, checking in on her, it had taken all the will he could gather in his bones not to call her back then. Too young, too bright, too much goodness ahead in her life to waste time and energy on someone like him. That was what he had told himself for almost a month, but the moment he had seen her in the Pitt it had started to crack, that wall he had built, the excuses stacked on top of each other began to fade away.

Every time half a granola bar was pressed in his hand by her his walls cracked further. There was no point in denying it anymore, especially not now.

In his peripheral he saw someone move, though did not think anything of it until a screech cut through the air. His head snapped up and he saw the figure of a large man shoving Princess to the ground, continuing his way towards someone, he started moving quickly. The only person that might have gone in that direction was his intern.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” The guy hollered at the person he seemed to be stalking towards, suddenly cold sweat began to trickle down his spine, he moved quicker, but it was already too late. The guy grabbed his intern, a hand around her throat was all he could see. “YOU FUCKING SLUT! YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN ME! I WILL KILL YOU!”

"Security!" he shouted as he moved in closer, terror pumping through his system like he was the one under attack, his movements seemed to slow down as his mind singled in on the image of the large hand wrapped around her throat. The shouting from security began, but he couldn’t reach her, it was too far, he was too slow. Suddenly a sharp movement, he had not seen what it had been, but the guy let go of her, stumbled backwards hollering in pain and then he saw her swing. Her fist connected with the guy’s face, an almost thundering crack sounded through the ED. He stumbled backwards, crumbling to the ground. Jack saw the way his head hit the ground, another cracking sound, blood began to pool underneath the man’s head.

Worry seeped into his mind as he moved quickly, he called her name, but her eyes were fixed on the crumpled form of the man on the ground. Again he called her name, this time she looked up at him.

“Are you okay? Can you take a deep breath for me?” he asked, still she simply stared at him, that empty look in her eyes he had seen countless times in the heat of battle.

Gently he said her name again, his hands twitched as he carefully took her face in his hands. Guilt and regret washing over him as he spoke again. He should have paid more attention, he should have been quicker.

“Hey,” he gently squeezed her face, “Are you okay?” he felt his brows furrowing, gentle relief came of him as he saw her eyes regain focus.

“What?” she whispered, hot tears running down her cheeks, brushing past his thumbs. His heart clenched, from the corner of his eye he could see a few nurses and Robby crouched around the man. Robby looked up at him, giving him a soft nod, telling him to take care of her. He could feel her trying to turn her head back towards where the man was laying, but he tightened his grip. It would only make things worse if she would panic about the asshole’s state of well being.

“Don’t look there,” he tried to be as gentle as possible while he spoke, still cradling her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing he had ever held. A few shuddering breaths came from her, with every single one he could feel his heart crack a little.

“I think I need to sit down,” she spoke so softly that it was almost impossible to hear her over the commotion, but he just nodded. Not wanting to let go he moved his hand between her shoulderblades, the other one he rested on her shoulder, gently guiding her towards the nearest chair in the nurses’ station. The empty look had returned to her eyes, a look he knew he never wanted to see again. He should have been quicker, shaking his head slightly he tried to get rid of those thoughts, he could sulk when she was alright. Crouching down in front of her he took her hand, first tapping it, though when her eyes did not seem to come into focus from that he tapped her thigh, his heart clenched as her eyes still did not come into focus. He repeated those actions, trying to get her attention, then finally her eyes seemed to focus and she looked down at him.

“Alright, listen,” he tapped her hand and thigh again, he did not know why, but it seemed like she could lose focus again at any given moment. “I am going to put you in line for an x-ray and a CT for now, just to make sure that nothing is broken or damaged otherwise.” he could barely hang on to his composure, feeling like he might snap at any given moment. His eyes found the bruise, the deep purple handprint around her neck, it made his stomach churn as he thought that this could have turned out so much worse. “While we wait for an x-ray we are going to ice your hand, okay?”

She nodded, slowly he got up from the awkward crouching position he had been sitting in. He was about to walk away to get the ice pack when he felt her grip on his hand tighten slightly. Stopping, he tilted his head in her direction, thinking that maybe she would want him to get something else along with the ice pack. Though then she looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, lower lip trembling as she looked at him.

“Please don’t leave me,” her voice was so soft, a crack in her words. He felt his heart shatter, his sweet intern, she should never have had to experience this.

“Alright,” he nodded, stopping in his tracks, then looking around, spotting Mateo standing near them. Quickly he waved him over.

“Could you get her an ice pack? And call radiology for that x-ray and CT scan,” he had spoken softly to the nurse, but his focus was back on her quickly. Slowly crouching down again he felt her clinging to his hand like it was the only thing keeping her in the moment. He squeezed back, trying to give her some kind of comfort but that empty look on her face returned, the tear stains were enough to break his heart, to make him want to pull her close and tell her that everything would be okay.

“I treated him,” she whispered, her voice breaking again. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” This time her voice was shaking more violently. Tears began to run down her cheeks again. A quiet sob, then it happened quickly, loud sobs and more hot tears, quiet croaks. His heart shattered as he tried to comfort her. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” She repeated it like it was a mantra, like she was trying to find something that could explain what had happened. His stomach churned as she sobbed softly. Slowly he moved to stand, panic flashed over her face, but dissipated as he pulled her into a hug. It was an odd angle and his back would hate him for it the moment he was able to stand straight again, but right now it was what felt right. Not caring about the way Dana glanced over at him with an amused smile or how Mateo seemed mildly flustered as he brought him the ice pack, telling him that they had bumped her up as best as they could. He could feel the snot and tears seeping into his shirt as one hand found its way into her hair, gently brushing through it, his chin resting on top of her head.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you did everything right,” he whispered, “You did so well,” he gently rubbed her scalp, trying to get her to calm down a little, “You did so well,”

He remained in that position for what felt like hours until Mateo came back to get her for the x-ray. As he pulled away he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, her eyes were glazed over at this point and her hand easily slipped from his.

Nausea settled in his stomach as he helped Mateo transfer her into a wheelchair, she didn’t really protest as she was wheeled away. Though he could see her head twitching to look around. It was almost like she didn’t really realise what had happened right now, like her mind had gone into a complete shutdown.

Leaning against a table he pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets, letting out a long sigh. Guilt and worry weighed heavy on him. He should have been faster, he should have reacted quicker, hell he should have known something was up the moment the damn shift transfer had gone without a hitch.

“You okay, brother?” Robby spoke softly from beside him. Crossing his arms over his chest he looked at his long time friend.

“Yeah,” he nodded, though his voice sounded rough, like he was about to start crying. He cleared his throat, trying to get his usual tone back.

“You sure about that?” Robby looked at him with that really worried expression, usually only reserved for when he was standing on the ledge of the roof.

“Fucking hell, Robby,” he muttered, looking around the nurses’ station was relatively empty, barely anyone there, “He attacked my intern,” it sounded a lot more possessive than he had wanted it to sound, though right now he did not really care.

“He did,” Robby nodded, “Though she got him pretty good,” Robby spoke softly, “Hit him so hard that some of the bone fragments were shoved towards his brain,” a moment of silence, “And he also has a skull fracture from falling,”

“Serves him right,” Jack spoke, the anger in his voice now less controlled than before, Robby glanced at him for a moment, worry evident in his eyes, but a certain curiosity seemed to linger there as well.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Robby sounded more concerned about his well being at the moment than the well being of his intern and for some reason that made him furious.

“I am not the one that needs to talk right now,” he snapped at Robby, which made a few people turn their heads. Robby raised an eyebrow, then his hands.

“Alright, if you say so,” he nodded, though their conversation was disturbed by Dana calling out.

“Gloria incoming,” the charge nurse sounded almost as pleased as if someone had told her that all of the staff had called in sick half an hour before shift started.

“Great,” Robby muttered, “I will do the talking,” he gave Jack a warning glare as he saw Gloria marching towards them.

“I heard an intern of yours punched a patient?” she sounded angry, which made Jack’s blood boil. As he was about to open his mouth Robby put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a warning glare.

“Yes, but it was in self defence. He was choking her and threatening to kill her,” Robby sounded so calm about this. Jack tried to see the rational side to this, tried to tell himself that yelling at Gloria was not going to change what had happened.

“If you wait another ten minutes you might see her and her neck with a bruise in the shape of a fucking hand on it,” Jack spoke in a tone as measured as he could. Though he was pretty sure that he still sounded very angry, especially since Gloria looked at him like he was insane.

“Alright,” she nodded, “Have you asked her if she wants to press charges?” she crossed her arms in front of her chest. A snort came from both Jack and Robby at the same time.

“She was practically catatonic when they took her up to radiology,” Robby said in a quiet tone.

“The only thing she said for the past,” Jack looked at his watch, “forty five minutes was various variations of ‘I didn’t do anything wrong’ and ‘He was just a mean patient’” Jack gave Gloria a long, hard stare. The anger slowly ebbing away again, it was replaced by worry again, the worry that she wouldn’t be okay again. That this incident would make her unable to work in this ED ever again.

“She treated him a few weeks ago,” Robby elaborated, “From what some other staff said he was being incredibly rude to the female workers,”

“Gosh,” Gloria rubbed her face, Jack suppressed a snarky comment about Robby having told her multiple times already that shit like this happens when she continues to cut budget on the ED.

“Radiology just called, Mateo is bringing her down again, results should be here within twenty minutes max, you want me to call Tommy to pick her up?” Dana chimed in from the side. Both Jack and Robby nodded at that.

——————

Tommy had picked her up shortly after the results from radiology had come in, nothing was broken, no serious tissue damage. She had still been in that state of dissociation when Tommy had taken her home with care instructions given by Jack and Robby.

He had stayed in the hospital for the rest of day shift, he couldn’t go home. It didn’t feel right, he just couldn’t bring himself to go home.

Leaning against the railing of the roof he looked down on the streets below, the buzz of people below making him less agitated. Still even as he looked down he was wondering what he could have done, if he could have been quicker. It felt like his brain was playing that moment in a loop, if he had looked up when he had seen the movement from the corner of his eye and realised that it was a patient he could have been fast enough. Though at that moment it had not seemed to be an issue.

He should have been quicker, he should have been able to do something, not just move too slowly when her life was in danger. That expression on her face haunted him, that emptiness, the usual kind and gentle features just completely blank. The way she had clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her in this reality had shattered something in him. Shattered these walls he had been trying to keep up. Hell he knew the moment that he wouldn’t be able to keep them up when he had felt that burning hot rage in his stomach when she had joked around with Tommy for the first time.

From the moment she had stumbled in the Pitt he knew that the work he had been putting in keeping away from her for over a month would be for nothing. If he had never seen her again it might have worked, but the moment she had looked at him, eyes wide with shock, he knew that he had already lost. Running his hands through his hair he let out a long sigh. Maybe he had been too pig headed to admit that to himself until now, he probably had been. It had been there from the moment they had first met. He still remembered her appearing beside him, ordering him a refill for his drink. He still remembered thinking that she would leave again if he acted grumpy enough, but he couldn’t, not with those eyes staring right into his very being.

“Not thinking of jumping today?” Robby’s voice sounded tight, he knew that his friend was trying to joke, but both of them knew that this was not why Robby was on the roof.

“No,” Jack paused, “Thinking about the least suspicious way to kill that guy,” he grumbled under his breath as he continued to wring his hands together, like it might give him some peace of mind.

“Don’t think you are the only one trying to figure that out. So, are you going to tell me what that was back down there?” Robby leaned against the railing beside him.

“What do you mean?” At least he could pretend to play dumb for a little while. He knew Robby had sniffed out something was wrong the second he had cradled her face in his hands like it was the most precious thing he had ever held.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Robby gave him that kind of look that he would give patients if he knew they were not telling the entire truth.

“Robby,” Jack sighed deeply, running a hand over his face, a low groan escaped his lips. He knew that he would have to come clean with someone at some point. He had heard the rumours, the bets, he knew that people suspected things about them and he had not made it any better with the way he had acted today. In his inner eye he could already see money being handed around.

“Fuck,” he drew out the u so long that it felt silly to some degree. He knew Robby was probably the safest person to talk to, but hell, he hadn’t even talked to his therapist about it. He hadn’t told anyone about it except for the ceiling of his bedroom.

“That does not sound good,” Robby sounded amused, like he was curious about the entire situation.

“Robby…” Jack turned his head to look at his friend, he was not even sure how to start explaining this, how does one tell another person that they met a subordinate at a bar before ever interacting with them in a professional setting and that said meeting did not only involve talking.

“I care about her,” was all that came out of his mouth. He knew that Robby would want more information than that, though he also knew that Robby would have to pry certain parts of his feelings out of his cold, dead hands if he wanted to have them.

“That much is obvious,” Robby sounded like he wanted to grab him by the scrubs and shake him.

“Jesus fucking christ, Robby,” Jack sighed, rubbing his face again. The guilt, anger, worry and all the emotions of the past day and weeks started to accumulate, they all started to build up and he knew that he needed to do something. He had wanted to keep her out, wanted to make sure that she didn’t get too close, but now he realised that it was too late, he really was a stubborn old man, just like she had said.

“I really got soft, didn’t I?” he laughed as he shook his head. He knew Robby would immediately pick up on the fact that he was trying to steer the conversation away from her. The next words coming from his friend’s mouth felt like a punch to the gut.

“No, you didn’t get soft.” there was a short pause, “You were always soft for her,”

He felt like a cornered animal, he knew he could just tell Robby everything, tell Robby the truth, but he knew that if he did, there was no coming back. It felt like it was the last piece of the wall that had been chipped away, like this would be the last stone that could fall before she could just step right into his most guarded of places. Shaking his head he realised that it had already happened, he just didn’t want to accept it. She had not taken that wall down bit by bit from the outside, no she had climbed over it the first time they had met and began to chip away at it from the inside.

“Yeah, you are right,” he nodded, wringing with his hands, “You know when I first saw her in the ED, I thought, what is she doing here?” a laugh escaped him. Taking a long breath he shook his head, he was really going to tell Robby about this. Though it felt right, to do it on the roof, it was almost like ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’.

“When we first met she told me that she just finished med school, but did you think in that first second of seeing her I connected the dots?” Robby didn’t say anything. He simply listened, Jack ran his hand over his face.

“It’s weird, you know, I was trying so hard to leave her behind, leave the memory of her in the past, but she haunted me, so when I saw her in the Pitt at first I thought I was slowly losing it. Not the war, not the pain and suffering I saw, no a woman was making me lose my mind,” a snort came from him.

“Oh, but she was real,” he shook his head, it was like all that what he had wanted to tell someone was now beginning to flow.

“I really thought I could avoid it. I really thought that pushing her away in the first place wasn’t going to come back to bite me in the ass down the road.”

At that comment Robby laughed.

“So what happened down there? I think I realised that trying to keep her out was pointless because she had slipped in far too long ago,”

He remembered her hand on his face when they laid in his bed, the blanket wrapped around them, their legs tangled together, how beautifully she had smiled at him and told him that she wanted to freeze the moment in time. At that moment he had wanted nothing else, he had wanted nothing more than to keep her there with him, never let her leave. He hadn’t known why exactly and even now he didn’t really understand it, but it had been so easy then and it still was.

Now it was all he craved, to have her by his side, never having to let go of her ever again. Being able to see that smile every time he went to bed and every time he woke up.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder, Robby gave him a smile, a smile that showed that he understood. Hell, Robby was probably the person that would understand this situation the most, the person that might actually be able to say something that made it less painful.

“I think I don’t have to tell you what you should do,” Robby simply patted him on the shoulder again, slowly walking away from the railing. Leaving him standing there, knowing that that he had lost the battle with himself long ago.

—————

Tags: @antisocialfiore @fudosl @smileykiddie08 @darksparklesficrecs @tommosgirl06 @rosieposie88

[izzih22]

ok so i got a fic idea: yk how azzis is like geno's fav and their ppls princess? like so basically i saw some comments somewhere saying she was like only featured that much cus shes genos fav and friends ( or more) with paige... (which like not true🙄 have u literally seen this girl shoot?!???) buttt can u maybe write a fic where like azzi read something like that and gets sad and insecure and paige comforts her

Earned

Note: sorry it’s a little short

Azzi Fudd is everyone’s favorite. Except, apparently, when she’s not.

The locker room had mostly cleared out after practice, laughter fading down the hallway. Azzi stayed behind, half-laced sneakers still digging into the mat, phone in her hand like it had fused there.

She shouldn’t have looked. She knew better than to check the comments under the latest team highlight post. But there it was, anyway. Bright and cruel on the screen, buried under a hundred heart emojis and fire reacts:

“She’s only getting minutes because she’s Geno’s fav lol”

“Let’s be real, if she wasn’t besties (or whatever) with Paige, she wouldn’t get half the attention.”

“Overrated. Pretty face and connections. Not game.”

Azzi’s fingers locked around the phone until her knuckles went white. She blinked hard, like that would wash it away. She could shoot until her legs gave out, put in more hours than anyone — it still didn’t matter to some people. To strangers who didn’t know a damn thing about what it cost her just to stay upright some days.

She didn’t even hear Paige come back in until the bench creaked beside her.

“You forgot your jersey, babe,” Paige said casually, tossing them in Azzi’s lap. “And your water bottle. And your soul, apparently.”

Azzi didn’t laugh. Didn’t even look up.

It took Paige about two seconds to clock the vibe shift. “Hey.” Her voice softened. “What happened?”

Azzi shook her head. “Nothing. Just tired.”

“Try again.”

When she didn’t answer, Paige leaned over and gently pried the phone out of her hand. Azzi didn’t fight it.

Paige didn’t need to scroll far to see it. Her jaw tensed. That familiar fire lit behind her eyes — the one she saved for game time and anyone dumb enough to mess with someone she loved.

“Who the hell—” Paige cut herself off, breathing hard through her nose. “You know this is bullshit, right?”

Azzi shrugged.

“Azzi. Look at me.”

Azzi did. Slowly. And Paige swore under her breath at the tears pooling just behind her eyes.

“You work harder than anyone. You play through more pain than anyone. You earn every damn second on that court.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Azzi whispered. “Sometimes it just feels like people think I’m only here because I’m… nice. Or pretty. Or… with you.”

Paige’s face crumpled just slightly at that. “That’s not true. That’s so far from true.”

Azzi looked away again, but Paige caught her chin and tilted it back. Gentle. Steady.

“Listen to me,” she said, low and intense now. “You’re not here because of Geno. Or me. Or because fans think you’re sweet. You’re here because you are the best shooter in the country, and you’ve earned every headline. Every minute. Every damn point. No one gave you anything.”

Azzi blinked fast, but the tears slipped out anyway. Paige caught one with her thumb, her hand still cupping her jaw.

“And for the record?” Paige added, quieter. “Even if I wasn’t in love with you, I’d still lose my mind every time you hit a three.”

Azzi let out a wet, half-laugh. “That was cheesy.”

“Yeah, well, you’re dating a simp. Deal with it.”

Azzi leaned forward, forehead pressed against Paige’s shoulder, finally letting herself exhale. Paige wrapped her up like she always did — strong, grounding, warm. No spotlight, no cameras. Just them. Where everything was earned. And everything was real.

[littlelovelunette]

Please can u write another succubus demon x Sevika?😍 but maybe this time the succubus demon only seduces women🤭 and when she saw Sevika she immediately targeted her but she didn’t use her powers/charm on her because she wanna know if Sevika would be attracted to her even without powers/charm

Different Kind Of Attraction

Sevika x Succubus!Reader

SUMMARY: You're a succubus, and only prey on women, women who're strong and independent like Sevika herself. Sevika was playing poker as per the usual at last drop, and when it was too late into the night— the game wraps up. As Sevika is about to leave the bar, she sees you; a gorgeous woman dressed in a provocative outfit bound to fall victim to any man with lewd intentions so she offers to walk you home. But Janna, did she never stop to think you'd have an effect on her.

Mild Predator-Prey, smoking, gambling, slight slow burn, possible stalker!Reader, cliff hanger ending.

You've been watching her for a while now. Sevika, Silco's henchwoman, his right-hand woman. The scary lady of Zaun. A slow smirk crept on your dark glossy lips. You loved yourself a good challenge of a woman. One might assume your species only targeted men but that wasn't true. Some of you targeted women like Sevika. Women who knew how to carry themselves, who were independent and powerful. That was the kind of woman that got your panties in a twist.

The bar was rowdy. Far too rowdy for your liking so you were hidden away at a far corner, nursing your whiskey as you continued to peer over the edge of your shades, staring intently at the woman whose gambling addiction truly knew no bounds. You sighed, something about her stirred an unusual feeling inside you. The feeling of not wanting to rely on your powers for seducing her, making her yours, charming her. Claiming her.

"Sevika," you tested the name on your tongue, savoring each vowel.

Sevika, who was indulged into another intense round of poker, straightened and looked around the bar. She had gotten goosebumps when you mouthed her name.

"You good?" One of the players asked, cocking a brow and clinking his bottle of booze against the cup, pouring himself another day of mindless poker although he knew better than to challenge Sevika's skills. They lost every game to her anyway.

"Y...Yeah."

Sevika shook her head, lighting her cigarillo and taking a good inhale of the smoke, lungs protesting feebly as she exhaled it through her nose, taking another look around the bar with squinted eyes. What a weird feeling, she hadn't felt like this since... Since ever. She'd always been the one who towered over others, never the other way around. She'd never felt like... She needed to watch out for some sort of predator.

It was one in the morning when Sevika decided she was way to drunk to finish another round of poker so she slammed her hand on the table drunkenly, rattling the cups and bottles that rested over the tabletop.

"Let's call it a night," she said in a raspy voice, "Cash me out!"

The men fumbled with tight bundles of cash and pounchfuls of coins, scrambling to pay Sevika for her several victorious rounds of poker. They didn't look all that happy, yet the kept their gazes averted. You got up, zipping down the turtle neck top slightly only so that your cleavage was on display. You sauntered over to where Sevika was waiting at the table, grinning at the piling cash and coins. She glanced at you when you came by her side and stood there. "You new here? Never seen you before." Sevika asked, arms crossing beneath her poncho.

You nodded simply and placed your hands on the table edge, leaning to peer at the cash, trying to make out an estimate of her winnings. "That's quite a lot of money."

"Yeah," Sevika chuckled, eyes lingering on your curvy behind. "That's quite the nice body. And too late of a night for you to get back home alone lookin' like a snack."

"Are you hitting on me but also implying I can't protect myself?" You grinned a little.

"Just lookin' out for a pretty woman," she picked up the small sack of her winnings.

"My, my, what a gentlewoman." You gave her a smirk, straightening and flattening the hem of your dress. "Are you suggesting you'd rather walk me home?"

"Quite so."

Sevika walked to the door of Last Drop, opening it and nodding her head as a gesture for you to step out. You did so, purse slinging from your shoulder as you walked in the chilly Zaun night with Sevika by your side. Her shoulders were these as of she was expecting trouble to pop out of every alley possible.

"Why so upright? I'm no celebrity," you giggled.

"Sorry, force of habit with Silco." Sevika grumbled, possibly a little embarrassed as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"That's okay," you interlaced your fingers within her hand's making Sevika's eyes widen slightly, glancing down where both your hands met. "You're drunk, yet you decided to walk me home. I'm grateful." You said as you continued walking by her side.

Sevika seemed like her brain had short-circuited when you held her hand. She stammered with her words in her head and only managed a small "no problem". The air was chilly, fog in the distance as you both walked. Your home wasn't too far away, but when you reached the door of your apartment, a light drizzle of rain started.

"Oh crap." You turned and pulled Sevika under the threshold of your apartment, "You'll get drenched in the rain if you go now."

"It's fine, I don't wanna be a bother—" Sevika began and made a walk back out into the drizzling downpour.

"Nonsense! You walked me home!" You grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"And?" Sevika asked curtly.

"And you'll stay the night!—" you said but she cut you off.

"But—" Sevika started.

"I insist," you said with such emphasis Sevika had no rebuttal for a minute, you took advantage of that and pulled her in with a firm grip of both hands on her flesh arm.

She walked into the small apartment, glancing around the dimly lit living room as you guided her to the couch, helping her take her poncho off. The house smelled like roses and champagne, Sevika sunk down onto the couch. She was so tall, and bulky it made most your furniture look comedically tiny. But it wasn't all that exaggerated and she didn't seem to mind.

"You gamble often?" You asked, knowing better yourself, yet for the sake of conversation.

"Yeah, it's a good source of income especially when drunken bastards love to put their money out on a golden plate for ya'." She chuckled, a little shocked when she saw you pulling out a lighter from the drawer and the exact brand of cigarillos she smoked.

You put the items down on the coffee table and walked to the kitchenette, "You usually stay up past 12?"

Sevika wasn't listening, eyes focused on the branded cigarillos, "How did you—?"

"It's impolite to ignore a direct question," you giggled, tone so sweet it could give one sugar rush, "I just... Happen to use the same brand, I suppose."

"Oh," Sevika looked at you for a second before looking back at the lighter you so graciously offered, "Yeah, I do stay up past 12 often."

"That's not good," you hummed as you walked around the kitchen, cooking.

Sevika grumbled something under her breath, probably a snarky comment on your caring attitude, her fingers wrapping around the lighter and examining it. She half-expected it to be a trap but after she didn't notice any loopholes, she took one cigarillo out, lighting it. Sevika took a deep inhale, leaning her back against the couch making it creak slightly in protest, "You don't really have to cook," she mumbled.

You weren't listening, your hand was a little shaky from maintaing your human form for so long. Your heart thudded loudly against your chest, and your heartbeat rang in your ears as you grabbed the skillet tighter. You struggled to focus on the meat you were frying, sweat beading at your brow.

"You okay?" Sevika asked and you turned, alarmed by her sudden voice.

The container of salt that rested on the countertop innocently toppled over the edge and the glass shattered on the floor. You winced at the loud sound, "Sorry," you turned the heat down, putting the spatula down in a hurry, "Be right back." You left and locked yourself in the bedroom.

"Dear Janna," Sevika mumbled, shaking her head. With the cigarillo between her lips, she walked into the kitchenette area, examining the mess you created in a haste.

"Please, just calm down," you told yourself.

You didn't want Sevika knowing you were a succubus but you felt your tail creeping under the skirt of your dress, horns protruding on the top of your head through the silky locks of hair you had brushed before deciding to present yourself to the woman. You didn't want to take advantage or feed off of her. You just wanted her. Was it such a crime to crave love as a Succubus? No, don't answer that. That was a rhetorical question.

"Are you okay?" Sevika knocked on the door, startling you once again.

"Yeah, I'll be back in a minute," you answered in a shaky voice.

You walked upto the big mirror in the room, taking a few deep breaths and closing your eyes. All you needed to do was calm down, breathe normal and act human. But when could you when Sevika's mere presence under the same roof as you caused your panties to dampen and mouth to itch? You groaned slightly, but managed to compose yourself in record time.

The door creaked open, and the scent of perfectly cooked chicken hit your nostrils, Sevika was standing in front of the skillet, effortlessly turning the meat on its surface using the spatula. The salt that was sprinkled all over the floor was also tidied up. Your eyes widened slightly in astonishment as you walked towards her.

"You can cook?" You asked in a voice that would suggest you were playfully shocked.

Sevika gave you a side glance, smirking, "You sound surprised."

You grinned and leaned against the kitchen counter opposite her, watching her loosen up in the environment of your small apartment was starting to grow on you. You really wanted her to be yours. Desperately so, too.

"I know what you are."

Part 2?

[theoretically-questionable]

I've often found myself confused by people who use LLMs for tasks that involve communication, even in an office or other setting where a non-trivial portion of emails/messages are 'box-checking' rather than strictly interpersonally communicative.

Having thought it over, I think the difference in attitudes is probably akin to the split between people who value small talk and people who regard it, with extreme distaste, as "pointless and annoying": i.e., there is something the former is getting out of small talk that the latter group is not.

This is mostly just a rambling tangent, but oh well.

I like communicating and I do so with intent. I've heard the sentiment from some other autistic people that they'd love to have an 'autoresponder'-style module for their brain to automate away layers of necessary-but-draining/pointless conversation. Never been able to relate, in significant part because doing so would give people communicating with said autoresponder the entirely wrong impression about how I was feeling.

The purpose to communication is to transmit information from one person to another. There are so many layers to this information — something I have definitely struggled with, as an autistic person. Some of those layers were totally opaque to me for a long time. Hell, sometimes I didn't even know some layers existed.

In a collaborative environment, even rote/'pointless' communication rituals have a huge density of information. That is the point. It is important. If Joe Bloggs over in HR replies to my routine email confirming details for this week's parking garage allotments in a more abrupt way than usual, or slower than usual, that's contextual information.

Maybe I'll pick up that he's probably got a lot on his plate or feeling stressed. Maybe that's not relevant. Maybe I need someone from HR to do something later that day, and then I can either loop in someone else from the department or just know to approach Joe tactfully, rather than just passing the task along as I usually would.

When people start using LLMs to write emails, summarize meetings, and 'touch up' all of their work, all of that context turns to unparseable sludge. It's entirely random. You can't "get used to" how someone writes and learn to pick up context clues when everything longer than a single-sentence reply is being filtered through an LLM.

It genuinely ends up being a bit of a nightmare for me, having absolutely no access to any kind of context, just taking a ride down a river of vaguely polite- and professional-sounding drivel, all without even the barest grace of useful context. It just... makes things worse. It becomes a self-perpetuating loop with no eject button.

If it's really easy for everyone to maintain the 'professionalspeak' facade, nobody ever has times when they break the facade. And *breaking the facade* is important. Being able to shape the communication norms of your department/company over time is... I mean, I think it's essential? Willingly choosing "we all communicate via LLM" seems horrifying, like not just acquiescing to but actively reinforcing the worst parts of corporate expectations of overly sanitized communication standards handed down from your manager's manager.

And yeah, some of my feelings on the matter are definitely my own baggage, but it feels just as frustrating as having to work with someone who actively scorns 'small talk' and deliberately makes every single communication as stripped-down as possible — and ends up being less efficient overall, not more, because what they're actually doing is refusing to engage with their colleagues or make sure they're getting all the right information across.

The other thing is that LLMs don't actually, by default, have access to all the information you do. If you want to get specific information across in the output, you have to give it to the LLM first. I've never hit a scenario where I would have preferred an LLM-generated email instead of. like. just the bullet-point list of information that was used when prompting it.

If you're time-poor and easily frustrated by communication tedium, I would rather *know that*, and know for sure that none of the information you're giving me has been twiddled accidentally to be slightly wrong by a context-free LLM, than get 'professionally formatted' emails from you all the time.

the scariest thing about the generative AI thing is how quickly people have accepted it as an indefinite, irrevocable part of their reality. people have genuinely convinced themselves that ChatGPT is the only solution to most tasks - tasks they did with their own brain without any large effort two years ago. like you know damn well all of us used to write emails ourselves why are we pretending like this is an impossible task to do with your own two hands. what's with the fucking. AI revisionism. i feel like i am going insane.

[cheftsunoda]

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

hamilton reader x max verstappen

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

fc: tyla ! 🌸

(sza will be used as ayana’s best friend so when i say solana— our queen miss sza)

thank you to @babygirl-4986 for the idea for this series and i am so excited to write for you guys :)

—

vegas grand prix 2024

mercedes 1-2– as a little sister I am beaming with excitement for lewis but a part of me is wondering where max is after getting p5. i knew how hard he could be on himself sometimes. he was still leading the championship but it seemed as if that wasn’t enough sometimes. i stood in the crowd next to my best friend, solana, she was the only one who knew about max and i, she had been with me through everything. i have actually been trying to set her up with lewis for the longest time— they are both oblivious to my actions but maybe one day it would work. i took out my phone to start recording as george walked out first, i began cheering for him and waved to him— he smiled down and waved back. lewis came out next with a proud smile on his face and I cheered extra loud and solana blew him a kiss in which he returned and he waved at me. the british national anthem began and before you knew it there was champagne all over the place. i grabbed solana’s hand and we made our way through the huge crowd, stopping to take some photos with fans. as we made it through the crowd, i reached for my phone to text max.

how are you doing my love? where are uuu?

I slipped my phone into my back pocket as Lewis approached us. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him and he gave me a squeeze. He pressed a gentle kiss on my temple.

“I’m so proud of you, Lew. Always. You did amazing out there.” I said and he let go of me with a smile.

“I always do better when my wonderful sister is here to cheer me on..and her beautiful best friend.” He states and turned to Solana pulling her into a big hug, a light blush settling on her face.

“And what are you lovely ladies up to for the rest of the night?” Lewis asked and Solana shrugs my way.

“Honestly, not sure.” She said and Lewis smiled.

“How about some drinks?” He asked as I reached for my phone.

doing ok, schat. would be better if I could see that beautiful face.

“You guys go, have fun. I’ll catch up later, I just have some business to handle.” I said with a smile and Solana gave me a knowing look.

“Alright, see you later, be safe please.” Lewis said with a quick side hug.

“Of course, love you guys.” I said and sent them both a smile.

meet me in the lot in five angel

on my way pretty girl

I started walking to his car rather quickly, thankfully fans could not get in this area so we were able to be alone for a moment. I leaned against the sleek black SUV, the cool desert night brushing against my skin. I spotted Max a few feet away, dressed down in a black hoodie and some jeans. He approached me with a small smile, wrapping his arms around my waist, mine reaching around his neck.

“I swear every time I see you all my problems just fade, schat. Your beauty makes me forget everything.” He hummed with a love drunk smile upon his face.

“I feel the same way about you, my love.” I say pulling him into a soft kiss that lasted for a few moments.

“Marry me.” He murmured. I pulled back, stunned, slightly in shock.

“What did you say? Max are you drunk?” I ask and he chuckled slightly.

“No, Liefde. Let’s get married, right here, right now.” He stated again and I smiled at him.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Did you hit your head getting out of the car?” I ask and he takes my hand.

“Mooi meisje, just listen to me. You are the one for me, I have known that since you walked into my life. Everyday I look forward to getting up to be with you and spend the day with you. Normally with a P5 result, I’d be sitting, sulking and thinking about what I could have done better but today I didn’t care— I don’t need to race— I don’t need the championships but I do need you— you’re the love of my life, yana.” He stated and I feel tears start to well in my eyes.

“Max, I-I love you so much. I need you.” I said wrapping my arms around him extra tight, I feel him squeeze my waist.

“So marry me, Yana. You’ll have me forever.” He whispered.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I said with a huge smile and Max lifted me up in the air. He pressed the biggest kiss to my lips. He pulled a small red box out of his sweatshirt and popped it open. I gasped slightly at the beautiful ring and he took the ring out gently and reached for my hand. He left a kiss across my knuckles and gently slid the ring onto my finger. It was absolutely stunning— everything I could’ve wanted in a ring.

“I know this isn’t the most ideal place for this but I could marry you while standing inside of a dumpster and I would still be overjoyed and we can always have a ceremony later-“ I interrupted his rambling by placing my hand on his cheek.

“Max— this is perfect. I don’t care how it happens as long as I get to spend forever with you.” I said and he smiled.

“Now let’s go get married, champion.” I teased and he hurriedly opened the car door for me and rushed to the drivers side.

—

I had changed into one of Max’s hoodies and put on a hat and some larger frame sunglasses. Everyone in the city is either drunk or too distracted from the race but it’s best to be safe. Max had pulled his hoodie over his head and also threw some sunglasses on. He held my hand and looked over at me.

“You really sure about this, Verstappen?” I teased lightly biting my lip.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything, schat.” He said rubbing my knuckles.

“Let’s go then.” I said and hopped out of the car. He came around and wrapped his arm around my waist as we made it inside the chapel. The neon lights flickering above us. It smelled faintly of roses and old wood. The lady at the desk shot us a quick smile.

“Here to get hitched, lovebirds?” She asked as she stood. We stared at each other for a second before nodding.

“Come with me.” She states and led us into the actual chapel. There was a man stood at the end of the short aisle who gave us a sweet smile.

“Mind if we trade your hat out for this?” The lady asked and offered me a veil, I look towards max and he nodded with a smile.

“I think we can do that.” I said and took off my hat and she helped fit the veil into my hair. Max smiled at me and took my hands into his.

“I suppose we are ready now.” The officiant said with a big smile.

“Names?” He asked.

“Ayana Hamilton.” I said and he nodded looking towards Max.

“Max. Max Verstappen.” He nodded and smiled to himself.

“Do you, Ayana Hamilton, take Max Verstappen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He asked and I nodded.

“I do.”

“And do you, Max Verstappen, take Ayana Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He asked.

His eyes never left mine. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me, in the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you both husband and wife. Max, you may kiss your bride.” He said with a smile and Max grabbed my waist and pulled me into a long passionate kiss. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t hungry, it was soft and sweet.

We stumbled out of the chapel laughing, my hand wrapped tight in his. The Vegas Strip roared around us, but in that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent.

“You realize Lewis is going to kill me when he finds out, right?” Max said, chuckling as he pulled me into his arms.

I grinned, resting my forehead against his chest. “Maybe. But you’ll survive. You’re a world champion, remember?”

He tilted my chin up, kissing me again like he had something to prove. “Now I’m the champion of something even better.”

—

present day / max and ayana’s apartment

The late afternoon sun poured through the windows of our Monaco apartment, casting a warm, golden glow over the hardwood floors. I sat cross-legged on the bed, half-folded clothes scattered around me in a chaotic mess. Max leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re packing like we’re moving across the world, not like you’re just spending four days with Lewis,” he teased, nodding toward the three overstuffed suitcases.

I tossed a hoodie at him. “It’s not just four days. It’s Lewis. You know how he is — there will be fancy dinners, training sessions, impromptu yacht trips. I have to be prepared for anything.”

Max caught the hoodie with one hand, laughing. He crossed the room in a few steps and sat down beside me, plucking a pair of sunglasses from my pile and perching them on my head. “You’re gonna miss me,” he said, mock-sulking.

I looked at him over the rim of the sunglasses. “Of course I’m gonna miss you,” I said, pushing them up into my hair. “Who else is going to steal my snacks and hog the blanket at 3 AM?”

He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. “You know you could just stay,” he murmured, teasing but a little serious too.

I leaned into his touch for a second, then grinned. “If I cancel on Lewis now, he’ll definitely figure out we’ve been married for a year and didn’t tell him.”

Max groaned dramatically, flopping backward onto the bed. “Still can’t believe we’ve kept it a secret this long. You’re a terrible liar, Ayana.”

“And yet, here we are,” I said proudly, zipping one of the suitcases shut.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging me down onto the bed beside him. I landed with a soft laugh, my hair spilling across his chest. He looked down at me, blue eyes soft, thumb tracing lazy circles over the back of my hand.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he said quietly. “For everything — the tour, the music, surviving this crazy world… and for still picking me.”

My chest squeezed a little at the tenderness in his voice. “Always you, Max.”

—

After I finally managed to wrestle the last suitcase shut, Max stood and stretched, looking all too innocent. Too casual.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said, way too quickly.

Suspicious.

But I let it go. For now. I tugged my duffel bag onto the bed, double-checking I had my headphones, my laptop, my chargers — the essentials. Max wandered over, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Promise you’ll call me every night?” he said, voice dropping to that soft, boyish tone he only ever used with me.

I smiled, resting my hands on his. “You act like I’m going away for a year, not four days.”

“Still too long,” he mumbled.

I twisted around and kissed him quickly. “I’ll call. Pinky swear.”

He grinned against my mouth, stealing one more kiss before finally letting me go. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, tossing a “Love you!” over my shoulder.

Max winked. “Love you more.”

—

later that night

Lewis, Solana and I had just arrived at the Beach House. I was always insistent on unpacking as soon as we get to the destination. No— before you ask; I am not sure if Solana and Lewis are together. I invited her on this quick trip and Lewis is always willing to have her.

I was digging through my duffel bag, looking for my spare phone charger when my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Frowning, I pulled it out — a small, folded piece of paper with Max’s handwriting scribbled across it.

“For when you miss me too much.”

Taped to it was one of his racing gloves — the very one he wore during the Vegas GP last year, the night we got married.

My throat tightened, emotions bubbling up too fast. Inside the note, he’d written:

“You’re my best win. Always have been, always will be. Come home soon, Mrs. Verstappen.”

I clutched the glove to my chest, a wide, stupid grin breaking across my face.

“Yana-“ Lewis said as he entered the room and I quickly tucked the glove in my suitcase.

“What’s up?” I turned around with a smile.

He gave me a confused but big smile.

“They have dinner prepared for us on the beach, whenever you’re ready.” He said and I nodded.

“I’m just going to get changed and I’ll be out.” I said and he nodded.

“Thank you, Lew. For the trip.” I said and he reached out for a hug.

“Of course, no one else I’d rather have with me.” He said and left the room.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.

got your surprise, mr verstappen. you made me cry. i miss you and love you so much.

you’ll be back in no time, my beautiful wife. enjoy your time with your brother. call me when you can, schat. i love you even more

I smiled and plugged my phone in. I quickly changed into a sundress and slipped on some sandals. I added a few pieces of jewelry and left the room. Lewis was standing behind the counter in the kitchen as Solana stood across the counter from him as she was showing him tik toks— he finally got the app he just doesn’t understand the humor yet.

“Showing Gramps how to use Tik Tok?” I questioned with a smirk and they both smiled at me.

“Mmm girl you look so good..” Solana reached out her hand and spun me around.

“So do you, my love.” I said and she smiled.

“Well beautiful ladies, shall we?” Lewis asked motioning towards the beach.

“We shall.” Solana said and we all started walking towards the beach.

—

next day

I was sat out on the balcony, having my morning call with Max.

“How are Jimmy and Sassy?” I ask and he smiles before pointing the camera at the two cats who are snuggled together.

“Precious babies.” I murmured with a smile.

“They get it from their mother.” Max said and I chucked.

“Unfortunately I do have a meeting and some training to do so I have to go but enjoy your day and I will talk to you tonight, okay? I love you so much.” Max said and I smiled giving him a small wave.

“Love you more.” I said ending the FaceTime.

“Good morning, Mrs. Verstappen.” Solana joked as she pulled open the sliding door and handed me a juice.

“Not too loud now.” I said and chuckled.

“You both are so cute it makes me sick.” She said taking a seat next to me.

“I appreciate it and I appreciate you helping to keep it on the low. You are like one of the only people I can trust.” I state leaning into her shoulder. She leaned her head on top of mine.

“I always got you, boo. Forever.” She says with a smile.

—

The sun was sinking low over the water, casting a soft orange glow across the beach. I lay sprawled out on a lounge chair, toes buried in the warm sand, a half-finished book resting on my chest. Roscoe was asleep in the sand beside me, head resting on my leg

Lewis plopped down beside me with his usual lack of grace, sending a small spray of sand and water onto my towel.

“Nice, Lew,” I said, brushing it off and giving him a look.

He grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “You needed a little excitement. You’ve been way too chill lately.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Maybe I’m finally learning to relax.”

“Doubt it,” he teased, stretching out beside me. “But hey, you have been different lately. Happier. Calmer. It’s good.”

I glanced at him over my sunglasses. “You saying I was a nightmare before?”

He laughed, tossing a grape up into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Not a nightmare. Just…intense. Always working, always moving. It’s nice to see you actually taking time for yourself.”

I tucked my arms behind my head, feeling the warm breeze drift over us. Lewis had a point — for once. Things with Max had changed me in ways I hadn’t even realized until now. But Lewis, blissfully unaware, just thought I was finally taking better care of myself.

“Guess I just figured out what matters,” I said lightly, smiling at the horizon.

Lewis nodded, not prying for once. “Whatever it is, keep it up. You deserve to be happy, Yana.”

He nudged my foot with his. “Also, when are you dropping that new album? You’ve been teasing it for months.”

I laughed. “Soon. You’ll get the first copy. I might even sign it for you, if you’re lucky.”

He gave me a dramatic bow from his lounge chair. “An honor, Miss Hamilton.”

We both cracked up, the easy, familiar laughter filling the air like it always had when we were kids. No pressure. No cameras. Just a brother and a sister, a beach, and the feeling that everything — at least for today — was exactly how it was supposed to be.

—

tonight was a big reason we are on this trip— Lewis, Solana and I were going to make a few drinks at a local bar in the middle of the city to promote his new non alcoholic tequila brand.

The tiny bar was packed, the air buzzing with laughter, music, and the clink of glasses. Fairy lights strung up across the ceiling gave the whole place a warm, golden glow. Somewhere in the back, a DJ was spinning laid-back tracks, and every table was decorated with little cards featuring Almave — Lewis’ new tequila brand.

“Alright, team,” Lewis said, clapping his hands behind the bar like we were about to run a full Michelin-star service. “We’ve got three goals tonight: pour good drinks, have fun, and make my tequila look like the greatest thing to ever happen to planet Earth.”

I laughed, tying an apron around my waist. “You’re lucky Sol and I love you, because this is not what I thought I’d be doing on vacation.”

Solana leaned over the bar with a wink. “Girl, we are the party. Plus, free drinks.”

Lewis threw an arm around each of us, grinning wide. “Exactly. The dream team.”

We got to work, pouring shots, shaking cocktails, and posing for selfies with fans who couldn’t believe Lewis Hamilton, Ayana and SZA were bartending in a random coastal bar. Every so often, Lewis would dramatically present a bottle of his tequila with both hands like it was a sacred relic.

“Only the finest!” he announced to a group of guys at the bar, pouring them shots with a flourish.

Meanwhile, Solana mixed up a custom cocktail she invented on the spot — something fruity and spicy — and by the second round, she had people lining up to try it.

I handled the crowd like a pro, sliding drinks down the bar, laughing when one almost toppled off the edge. “First one’s free if you can catch it!” I called, making the bar explode in cheers.

Every few minutes, Lewis would bump his shoulder into mine, and Sol would lean over to crack a joke, and it felt… normal. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just us, doing something wild and silly because we could.

At one point, Lewis grabbed the mic by the DJ booth. “Big thanks to everyone for coming out tonight! And remember,” he said, holding up a glass, “life’s too short to drink bad tequila. Cheers!”

The whole bar roared back in a toast, and we clinked glasses behind the counter, grinning like idiots.

Later, as the crowd started to thin and the neon signs flickered a little softer, Solana leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed happily.

“Tell me why this is one of the best nights I’ve had in forever,” she said.

I smiled, wiping down the bar. “Because it’s not about the tequila. It’s about us.”

Lewis slung an arm around both of us again, his face flushed from laughing so much. “Nah, it’s definitely the tequila,” he said with a wink.

And for the first time in a long while, I realized just how lucky we were — messy, chaotic, ridiculous — but lucky all the same.

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

25,368 likes

f1gossipgirls : Lewis Hamilton, Ayana Hamilton and SZA all spotted bartending at a small bar in Riviera Maya, Mexico to promote his new tequila brand— Almave!

—

username : omg all my faves

username2 : love them so much— having fomo rn

username5 : the Hamilton genes are so strong

username7 : they are so beautiful fr

username9 : sza is toooo

username7 : true true

username8 : my brother met them last night and said they are all so sweet— he said Ayana gave him like 5 free drinks for him and his friends lmao😭

liked by author

username10 : omg so jealous

usernameee : just a question but why is sza with them??

f1gossipgirls : she has been a good friend of ayana for years and her and lewis have been linked multiple times

—

texts !

saw some videos of you bartending

you are so hot

come home now please

be home tomorrow pretty boy

don’t get too excited without me

—

ayanaaa

riviera maya, mexico 📍

liked by sza, lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari & 4,357,975 others.

ayanaaa : thankful for lew, sol, roscoe, mexico and almave

tagged : lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, sza, almave

—

roscoelovescoco : loves yous aunt yayas!!

liked by author

ayanaaa: love my roscoe<3

username : lewis calling her aunt yaya is so cute

sza : the best time with my best fransssss🌎🍃🌱🌊💙

liked by author

ayanaaa : love ya my sollll

lewishamilton : so glad you came — love you sis ❤️

liked by author

ayanaaa : love you more

scuderiaferrari : our faves 😻😻

liked by author

ayanaaa : ferrariiii my love — season passes for Miss Solana?

scuderiaferrari: absolutely! you are both welcome always 💋

liked by author and sza

carmenmmundt : you are so beautiful ayana. i miss you so much!

liked by author

ayanaaa : miss you more carms

alexandrasaintmleux: 😻😻😻😻

liked by author

—

The front door clicked softly behind me as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of cedarwood and fresh linen wrapping around me like a hug. My suitcase thudded quietly on the floor, but before I could even call out, I heard footsteps — quick, eager — from the hallway.

Max appeared, barefoot and in sweatpants, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed even though it was early evening. His whole face lit up the second he saw me, and the ache of missing him hit me all at once.

“You’re home,” he said, voice low and full of relief.

I barely had time to nod before he crossed the room in three quick strides, sweeping me into his arms. I dropped my bag and wrapped myself around him, breathing him in — the faint scent of his cologne, the comfort of home.

“I missed you,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes so soft it made my chest tighten. “You have no idea how much.”

He kissed me — slow, lingering, like he was making up for every second we’d been apart. I melted into him, smiling against his mouth.

When we finally broke apart, he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “No more trips without me.”

I laughed, trailing my fingers lightly over his jaw. “Tell that to my brother next time he drags me on a ‘bonding adventure.’”

Max chuckled, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “Deal. Next time, I’ll just come with you. Hide in your suitcase if I have to.”

He reached for my duffel, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder with one hand and threading our fingers together with the other.

“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the living room. “I made your favorite — pizza and that terrible show you love.”

“My terrible show is a masterpiece,” I corrected with a grin.

“Right, right,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Masterpiece.”

We curled up together on the couch, my legs thrown over his lap, his arm tucked firmly around my waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. The TV played in the background, but all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek.

—

p1 of this series complete! let me know what yall think and any suggestions for the next part and as always requests are always open! 💋

[myfictionaldreams]

Hey so I was thinking what if steddie ran like a piercing/tattoo shop, and the reader comes in to get a tattoo and or piercing and is absolutely infatuated by the boys 

INK & NEEDLES // Steddie x F!Reader

Summary: Fresh off a bad breakup, you walk into Steve and Eddie’s tattoo shop looking for a distraction. You leave with a lot more than just some ink.

Requested by: im so sorry this took me so many months to write! thank you for the request my love x

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, toxic ex-boyfriend, praise kink, MFM, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, light dom/sub, slight innocence kink

Words:2.3 k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The skin around your finger nails was becoming sensitive with the way you’re wringing your finger together as your anxiety became as unsettled as your bouncing leg. A change. That was all you’d been thinking about for the last two weeks. Your hair had already been drastically changed, the clothes on your body more revealing and just – comfortable damn it.

Three fucking years, wasted on that asshole just for him to be caught in the gas station toilet, jeans around his ankle and lackluster cock shoved in some random girls throat.

Change. You needed it. Needed to get away from the same rules and regulations that you’d been trapped within for three years. “Oh, babe, just make sure you wear a jacket with that.” “Babe, your hair looks better without the clip”. “No, babe, we can’t hold hands right now, I’m trying to watch the game”. “Babe, babe, babe”. FUCK OFF. Even just reminiscing on him, the time wasted, the lies easily spilling from his lips that had you hoping for stability in a relationship, just for it all to come crashing down. And you know what? Thank god because the sadness and devastation was now very much anger and FUCK HIM attitude.

All of this didn’t mean you were feeling any less anxious about your current decision as you stared up at the black-and-white writing across the shop windows: “INK AND NEEDLE.” Nothing screams change like a permanent something tattooed onto your skin. This wasn’t a quick decision that you’d made, in fact this topic had been something that you and your dickhead ex had aruged about for three days and eventually, like always, you relented and decided against having it.

Now, though, nothing was stopping you except your nerves about stepping into a place where pain was expected to have the desired result.

The tiny ‘ding’ of the bell above the heavy door jingled as you timidly stepped inside, and immediately, your senses were overwhelmed with the smell of antiseptic.

“Be right with you, Sweetheart!” a low, raspy voice called from the back of the shop, currently hidden behind a high wall of every shade of green foliage.

As you were trying to smooth the black material of your skirt, he appeared in the door-shaped gap in the plants. You tried not to swoon visibly. Tall, messy dark curls spilling from under a backwards cap, a sleeveless black band t-shirt stretched across heavily tattooed arms.  Eddie Munson. One of the reasons you chose this specific shop to get your first tattoo is because he was a familiar name, having been the year above you at Hawkins High School. However, it had been years since you’d last set eyes on him, the weird metalhead who never quite fit in, who laughed too loud and lived too fast. Now, it seemed he was just your type of rebellious with the way your thighs were clenching together.

He smirked, like he could see your heart trying to escape your chest. And then behind him – Steve Harrington. Stripped-down casual in ripped jeans and a tight white t-shirt, holden tanned skin and that familiar cocky glint in his eye that you’d admired for years whilst at High School.

You were so fucked.

“Um, hey- hi. Hi, I’m um. Would like one please”.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. One sentence and you’re ready to turn back around and leave Hawkins for the rest of eternity.

“First time?” Eddie asked, tilting his head, grin widening.

Nodding with certainty and flexing your fingers to avoid picking at the skin again. “Yeah. I, uh, wanted something small. Hip area, maybe?”

Steve’s arm wraps around Eddie’s shoulder, casually leaning his weight against him as his hazel eyes drag down your body, lingering on how your skirt floats mid-thigh to the bare strip of skin between your skirt and knee-high socks.

He smiled slowly and warmly. “Cute spot,” he said. Eventually, his gaze met yours. “Do you want Eddie or me to do it?”

The air felt heavy suddenly. Eddie, you recognized and everyone in Hawkins knew of Steve Harrington - both slightly older and confident in ways that made your skin tingle and pussy squeeze with anticiipation.

“Could”. You swallowed hard to try and coat your dry throat in some spit so you didn’t choke. “Could you both do it?”

Silence was your initial answer. Thick and charged.

Eddie’s grin widened into something dangerous. “Fuck, Sweetheart. You sure?”

Steve’s chuckle had your eyes dancing between the two men. “She’s got good taste,” he seemingly answered.

~~~~~

Following the duo further into the shop, it was then that you realised that it was only the three of you in the building and no one else. A cosy room welcomed you, a black padded table in the centre with shelves lining the walls with tools and bottles. Art in different styles covered every inch of the remaining magnolia-coloured wall.

Eddie tapped his tattooed knuckles against the table, “Hop up, Peach. We need to see exactly where you want it”.

Trying to maintain composure, you casually walked to the table's side as both men snapped on a pair of black sterile gloves. With trembling fingers, you shimmied out of your skirt, leaving you in your pink panties and loose white T-shirt. Maybe it was the cool air against your thighs or the nerves that caused you to shiver, but with your head held high, you turned to face them both, standing to show them the left side of your hip.

Eddie’s touch was firm but careful as he tilted your hip. Steve crouched beside him, the head of his body right there, had you biting painfully on your lower lip to refrain from moaning.

“Here?” Steve asked, gently moving the pantie material that covered the curve of your hip so that he could stroke the area with his thumb in a feather-soft touch.

Finally, you risked glancing down at them, and it was then that you gasped, releasing your bottom lip and knees trembling at seeing both men on their knees, staring at the naked spot on your hip.

Steve and Eddie shared a look. Excited. Mischievous. Lustful.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty”, Eddie murmured, his voice thick. “Gonna look even better with our mark on you”.

You whimpered - barely - and they smiled like you’d just handed them the world.

~~~~

The machine buzzed to life, low and sinful. Steve perched beside you, holding your hand, his thumb stroking soothing circles over your skin. “You’re doing amazing, baby. So brave after everything you’d been through.”

That one sentence alone made you realise how much you wore your heart on your sleeve. It felt intimate, like they knew from just one look that you were healing something broken.

Meanwhile, Eddie worked with steady hands, the machine humming against your sensitive skin. He’d occasionally glance up at you, dark eyes hooded, mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

When Eddie finished the outline, he swapped with Steve. This was when Steve’s fingers accidentally skimmed the inside of your parted thigh as he adjusted your position, making you arch involuntarily.

“Sensitive, baby?” Steve teased softly.

You were more than sensitive. You were utterly soaked, your panties damp, and you knew it was visible, that both men could see it.

“You gotta use your words when you’re in this room, I’m afraid. I need to make sure our pretty girl is still coherent,” Eddie drawls as he takes your hand, much like Steve had been holding as he looked down at you.

“Ye-Yes.” You were unsure if you’d answered verbally or in your head because all you could hear were the words, “our girl.”

It sounded nice. More than nice. It sounded downright filthy coming from Eddie Munson.

“Do you mind? I just need to move your panties slightly to make more room for the tattoo”, Steve asked casually as his fingers grazed the edge of the material resting on your hip.

“That’s fine”, you answered in a whisper, still staring up at Eddie as a distraction.

A whimper rushes from your parted lips, thighs squeezing together as the adjusting of your underwear caused it to tighten against your labia and clit, applying pressure to the delicate area.

“You good?” Eddie asked as his thumb continued circling the skin on the back of your hand.

“Yes, sorry”. Attempting to relax your thighs again as Steve began his part of the tattoo.

“You’re doing so good, baby”, Steve murmured moments later, his tone soothing and drawing you out of the thoughts screaming in your head.

You tried to focus on your breathing and remain as still as possible. Still, every time Eddie shifted slightly at your side, the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body, and the roughness of the pads of his fingers had you shifting to try and control the feeling between your legs.

When Steve had moved your underwear, not only did you feel the tightness of the material against your sensitive pussy but the material was damp. More than damp, it was wet.

And they noticed. Oh, they definitely noticed.

Risking a glance down at the man tattooing your hip, you caught Steve’s gaze flicker across to where your thighs slightly quivered, to the darkening patch of your underwear.

Steve didn’t utter a word; he didn’t have to because you knew he had noticed your predicament from the slow and knowing smile that glowed on his face.

Eddie’s mouth curved up, too. A dark, wolfish grin that disappeared as he leaned close enough that his lips were only an inch from your ear. “You’re making a mess, sweetheart.”

Raging heat flooded your cheeks, your chest, your core. You couldn’t move or breathe, feeling like you’re the prey caught between two hungry wolves.

“She likes it”, Eddie admitted on your behalf as he sat back again, eyes flicking back to meet Steve’s momentarily.

“Oh, I know she likes it”, Steve chuckles lowly as his gloved hand slides ever so slightly to the left on your hip, nearing your pubic bone. Not quite touching where you wanted, but close enough to make your hips jerk. “Knew you were a good girl the second you walked in”, he muses whilst continuing with the tattoo. “Knew you’d let us care for you if we pushed just a little.”

Were you really this predictable?

You whimpered again, hips tilting helplessly towards him, towards them both. Moments later, Steve shuts off the tattoo machine - the sudden silence deafening - and sets it aside whilst carefully wiping down your tattoo.

“All done”, he said, voice rougher now. “Are you going to continue to be good for me whilst I carefully wrap it for you? Don’t want you to get an infection, baby”.

Nodding your head as an answer, you waited as Steve carefully applied the second skin wrapping to your new tattoo. All the whilst, Eddie’s fingers skillfully skimmed over the skin of your cheek and neck, a soothing stroke that left a wake of goosebumps over the path.

“Looking good, baby. Still need to reward you properly, thought, don’t we? For sitting so nicely for both of us.” Eddie drawls whilst standing where he was perched on the table's edge.

You barely had time to breathe before Eddie kissed you - rough and sweet and hungry - whilst Steve’s gloveless fingers slid beneath your soaked panties.

You gasped into Eddie’s mouth, giving him an open invitation for his tongue to delve deep whilst Steve’s fingers found how wet you were, teasing your labia, separating them so that he could circle your entrance slowly.

“You’re perfect”, Steve praises as he moves around the table, climbing on so that he's half lying now between your parted thighs. “Deserve better than what you had before. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.”

Eddie kissed your jaw, your throat, your collarbone, leaving a trail of heat as his fingers quickly moved to shift the material of your shirt up and over your head, leaving your matching pink bra. “So fuckin’ pretty”, he muses, his thumbs brushing against the nipple poking through the thing material before his lips wraps around the sensitive area. 

“I love your sexy little moans, don’t hold them back for us”, Steve encouraged from between your legs as you feel the warmth of his breath against your now exposed cunt as he holds your panties to the side.

This was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Your pleasure was being prioritised. They wanted to hear your verbal response to their touch. You’d always been told you’re too loud, too whiny, but with their encouragement, there was no way you were going to hold back.

It was Eddie moved your bra’s material aside and the soft wetness of his tongue stroked against your sensitive nipple and the stretch of Steve’s two fingers pressing into your cunt, that you lost all sort of control.

“Fuck!”, you scremed whilst your head tipped back, eyes closed as you savoured the sensations from both men.

Eddie laughed against your chest as his lips moved back up your neck, “I love hearing such filthy words coming from you, Sweetheart”.

“Oh god!” Your fingers trembled as you reached for Steve, whose fingers began to curl inside your wet warmth gently.

“Does he feel good? You like his fingers right there?” Eddie teases whilst biting your lower lip.

“Yes! Please-!”

“You want to cum for us?” Steve asks whilst leaving stinging bites on the inside of your trembling thighs.

“Yes! Don’t stop!”

“Oh, I’m not going too”, Steve drawls whilst using his thumb to apply soft pressure to your clit, circling in tight circles, matching the speed of his curling fingers.

Eddie’s fingers wrapped around your throat, the pressure grounding you to the spot and moment. “Let go, baby”, he encouraged whilst watching the pleasure dance across your features.

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as you finally orgasm, hips rutting against Steve’s fingers as your inner walls pulsed in pleasure.

“Good girl. I knew you were special the second you walked through the door,” Eddie kissed your forehead while whispering those soft words to you.

And as you lay your back against the table, boneless and ruined, Steve grinned as he eased his fingers from inside you, “I hope you’re free next week, Sweetheart. We’ve got a few more ideas for that pretty body”.

[technofeudalism]

that last video was filmed November 9th, 2019. leftists spent an entire primary cycle trying to explain to people like this that Joe Biden was a segregationist, racist piece of shit. then when they tried to nominate him again in 2024, leftists tried again. both times we were told to shut the fuck up and know our place or called Russian psyops.

Joe Biden has over 40 years in politics. he obstructed Civil Rights progress in the United States and eulogized Strom Thurmond - a segregationist - who he considered to be a good friend of his. Joe Biden is a public figure and was the former Vice President of a man with the nickname "The Deporter in Chief." all of the writing was on the wall and everyone talked about it in detail. Bernie Sanders was an option in 2019 and liberals said he couldn't win over and over until he was pushed out by Jim Clyburn and the DNC.

furthermore, i love how this energy is put off when someone is shitting on people for being so stupid and blindly loyal to the Blue Team but this type of "this is just inflammatory and unproductive" talk doesn't get rolled out when someone is making fun of "Leopards Eating Faces" of conservatives. let's try this the other way around:

"I HATE the energy that this post was written with. Like being passive aggressive towards people who thought Trump would do good things doesn't do anything????? but piss people off???? This shit is not productive it's just inflammatory."

do you feel the same way about this sentence? do you feel the same way about people holding up Trump to conservatives' faces and going "Hey, you stupid fuck. Look at what you fell for. Do you feel stupid?" or do you only reserve this type of scolding when someone says something bad about someone that YOU got tricked by because you don't want to feel like you're just as easily duped as the MAGA guy?

maybe listen to what people are saying next time when they try to explain to you that you're being starry eyed and overly idealistic about politics rather than telling them that they should keep their mouths shut and stop trying to sabotage "The Good Guys." maybe pay attention to the world when there's not a Republican in office or an election on the horizon. maybe have some fucking principles.

on today's episode of "i only pay attention and pretend that i give two shits about the sanctity of human rights when there's a freaking Cheeto in the white house"

“While the administration should be lauded for its efforts to provide children and families access to the court system, its failure to ensure legal representation has produced a massive due process crisis,” said Talia Inlender, Deputy Director of the Center for Immigration Law and Policy (CILP) at the UCLA School of Law. “It should be obvious that immigration court proceedings are far too complex for children to navigate without legal representation, especially when the consequences are so dire. The Biden administration must take swift action to ensure legal representation for all children in immigration court.”

The report’s key findings include:

In a five-month period in FY 2022 alone, almost one third of immigration court cases initiated by the Biden administration–more than 80,000 in all–were against children, over 30,000 of whom were under the age of 5, according to the Transactional Records Access Clearinghouse (TRAC).

Studies show that unrepresented unaccompanied children are at least five times more likely to be ordered removed than children with access to counsel. 

By the government’s own account, 44% of unaccompanied children and 51% of families on the Dedicated Docket lack legal representation.

The vast majority of removal orders entered against children are for failure to appear: Approximately 72% of removal orders against families on the Los Angeles and Boston Dedicated Dockets were issued in absentia, with over 48% against children, many under the age of six. Worse yet, 86% of removal orders issued against unaccompanied children were for failure to appear.

Immigration courts under the Biden administration ordered more than 13,000 unaccompanied children removed in absentia between Fiscal Years 2022 and 2023.

The report details how the Biden administration’s treatment of children in immigration court is unlawful, and calls on the Biden administration to: prohibit in absentia removal orders against unrepresented children; terminate the Dedicated Docket; and ensure legal representation for all unrepresented children in removal proceedings.

In handwritten cursive, a Russian immigrant named Marina wrote out the story of the day U.S. Customs and Border Protection agents took away her 1-year-old baby while she was being held in a detention facility in southern California. “I cried and begged, kneeling, not to do this, that this was a mistake, not justice and not right,” she wrote. “She was so little that no one knew anything about her. I was very afraid for her and still am!” This didn’t happen during the Trump administration, which separated more than 4,000 migrant children from their families under its controversial “zero tolerance” policy. Marina was separated from her baby in April of this year. The 40-year-old former restaurant manager came to the U.S.-Mexico border with her husband, mother-in-law and child to seek asylum. More than eight months later, she and her mother-in-law remain in federal immigration custody in Louisiana. Her husband is detained at a different Louisiana immigration facility. And Aleksandra is over a thousand miles away, being cared for by strangers in foster care in California. Aleksandra is one of around 300 children the Biden administration has separated from their parents or legal guardians this year, according to two government sources who asked not to be identified because they hadn’t been authorized to speak about the separations. Most of the cases involved families crossing the southwestern border, the sources said. These numbers haven’t previously been reported. Similarly, 298 children were separated from their parents in 2023, according to a government report to Congress published on Tuesday, even as overall migrant crossings have declined. According to the report, the average amount of time children separated between April 2018 and October 2024 have spent in federal custody before being released to a sponsor is 75 days.

Biden responds to Bernie Sanders' immigration plan: "We shouldn't abolish ICE. We should reform the system. ICE is not the problem. The policies behind ICE are the problem, and that's easy enough to fix if the President knows what he or she is doing."

unfortunately Joe never got around to fixing the Gestapo agency but he tried his gosh darndest and he isn't Drumpf so i guess the pride in being an American was still secure at that point for most liberals. i'm sure that when the next charlatan says the same thing that they'll retain this energy, right? right??