#and the former shouldn't feel like she needs them

[waywardangel-wilds]

Half-baked shower thoughts: Sydney was the last person with whom Carmy didn't have to talk about Mikey.

Think about it, in Goodbye, when Sydney brings up the 'elephant in the restaurant,' Carmy freaks out. He gets extremely emotional and begs her over and over again to stop talking. Sydney was the one person in Carmy's orbit who didn't know a version of Carmy that existed when Mikey was alive. All his people know a different version of him, a version that is somehow impacted by Mikey. Natalie knows him as her baby brother who adored Mikey; Richie also sees him as the kid of the family, but in a different way. The entire back-of-house staff didn't even meet Carmy as an individual; they probably heard about him through Mikey for years. Most annoyingly (for me), Claire knows Carmy almost entirely through the way Carmy used to be when he was between Mikey and Richie. No one really knows him as Carmy, the individual adult separate from Mikey, first. That is, until Sydney enters the fold.

Now, you can bring up Carmy's former co-workers from when he lived away from home as examples, but I think we can all agree that is not what we are talking about here. We are talking about the people who, honest to God, know Carmy and are a part of his actual life - the intimate part of life, which contains people you actually give a real shit about. Those people. There's Luca, sure, but Luca is more of an old friend who lives far away. He's not really family like Sydney is.

So, anyway, where was I going with this? Sydney is the one person in Carmy's life who gets to know him first as Carmy, period. Not as Mikey's and Nat's kid brother. Not as one of Donna's three kids. Not as Richie's dumbass cousin. Nothing like that, she meets him with a predisposition to like him. She thinks he's accomplished, she looks up to him, and she sees him first and foremost as this interesting character in the field they both care about. The guy who made the best meal she's ever had. She enters the relationship already liking him. Lucky boy.

So why does it matter that she brings up Mikey? Well, I think that it matters for two reasons. One, the fact that Carmy didn't have to talk about this with her, and two, the fact that her bringing it up breaks an illusion between them.

So first, Carmy didn't have to talk about Mikey with Sydney, and that matters. There is no other character on the show that looks through Carmy the way that Sydney does. That's just an actual fact. Natalie is probably the only other character who knows Carmy deeply enough to be able to pick up on his cues, but it's different with Sydney. Natalie's knowledge of Carmy comes from this maternal place, and it doesn't always capture everything - it's mostly focused on family matters. Sydney's knowledge of Carmy picks up on everything, despite those vibes not necessarily coming with clear explanations. As she literally says in Season 3, she can feel it when he pulls away.

So they didn't have to talk about Mikey. Sydney and Carmy's relationship is still young, and Sydney came into it knowing pretty early on that Carmy was actively mourning the recent death of his brother. It's too sensitive a topic to just bring up just, baseline, right there, especially in a new friendship. But also, it didn't need to be talked about because Sydney already knew. She could already tell, from their weird telepathic bond alone, that it was a painful thing and something Carmy wasn't ready to talk about yet. Sydney lost a parent, too. She gets it. There was no need to talk about it.

Then, on that same train of thought, there was also the acknowledgment that maybe they shouldn't talk about it. Why? Because how do you talk about something that raw with the only person who can literally see you with 20/20 vision? That's intense, extremely so, especially for two people who seem to run for the hills when things get real. They weren't going to touch that pile of knots unless they had to.

Then there was the breaking of the illusion. There's been a lot of pretending between Carmy and Sydney - which I, by the way, think is idiotic - because they were both aware that they understood each other deeply but were also unwilling to come to terms with it like freaking adults. It was a two-way street: Carmy would fail Sydney constantly because he was not okay, but he would promise to try to get better and never break the same promises again. Sydney, on her end, was (to some extent, depending on the period) aware that things were bad for Camy and that his promises weren't going to always work out. But she was choosing to stay. They were pretending things could be fine if they just kept going. That was an illusion.

They knew each other too well for that shit, but they went for it anyway.

So then here we are, with Carmy freaking the hell out because Sydney dared bring their ignored pile of laundry into the middle of the biggest fight they've ever had.

So, why do I think this matters? Because these things permanently change the future of their relationship. It can go one of two ways: either bringing this up breaks the stalemate and they actually get closer for it, or they become repelled by how intense things got and grow further apart.

It they got closer, it wouldn't be right away, there would definitely be a period of tense silence just because they are who they are, but by the time they ended up coming together again, the friendship would be different. Way more intimate, and requiring more of the other, which might be a lot for them, especially Sydney, to accept. I would like to see how that could play out, especially in this show, which seems hellbent on hurting my feelings.

But never speaking again? It seems both realistic and impossible at the same time. What? Would the family fucking fracture? How long could that go on for? I can't see this happening permanently; they are too connected at this point, and the love is too big. I can't imagine a world in which Sydney and Carmy aren't on good enough terms to like, smile at each other from across the room, even if they never see each other again. I feel like never speaking from this point on wouldn't give them space to still love each other openly from afar, and they need to be able to do that, so, not happening.

Anyway, yeah, those are my thoughts. There's something there in that interaction, and I wanna see where the show goes with it. What do you think?

[kiragecko]

Look, I don't really ship ANYTHING, but these guys are just such a fascinating couple.

They would ... probably not be good for each other, long term. Tim wouldn't really respect Jubilee's discomfort with heroics, and isn't good at building insecure people up. He also forgets dates, and that would CRUSH my girl. Jubilee gets aggressive when she's worried about people in ways that wouldn't be great for Tim, and he'd ... just let her insult him.

But. There's a reason they got merged in a different Amalgam event, and it isn't ONLY that Wolverine was merged with Batman. Jubilee was created in conversation with Tim. (And the other Robins.) She wore his colours, had weaknesses in most places he had strengths, drowned where he flourished. She was a formerly rich street kid with a learning disability, a fast mouth, and acrobatics training. She ... fits around him, in ways that characters from different universes rarely do.

They're both destructively loyal to men who put other things first. They're both used to being forgotten about and abandoned. They're both bleeding a need to be seen and prioritized, and both accept that they don't 'deserve' it.

She has a LOT of the traits that draw him to Steph. And, she would be drawn to him for the same reasons all the other damaged, defensive girls are drawn to him! He's attentive and gentle, caring and kind, lets you project whatever you want onto him, and rarely says no.

-

That weird crossover is so in character for both of them! They WOULD be friends! They WOULD get along! He would kindly knock her out instead of fighting, and she WOULD let him!

-

Like, this is just an amazingly meaty relationship. Bewilderingly so. Has no right to be as fascinating and filled with possibilities as it is.

It's also impossible to write a fanfic of without a LOT of work. Neither of them could survive without their loved ones, so you pretty much HAVE to amalgamate the universes if you want a happy, in character, ending. They don't have compatible priorities. They don't have reasons to interact. Both would HATE the other's mentor. Like, virulently.

It's doomed. Not meant to be. But I WANT TO READ ABOUT IT WORKING!

I want them to gentle each other like they're both abused stray cats! I want Nightwing to give Jubilee head scratches while Tim self-combusts! I want Gen X to stare at Tim in disbelief, trying to figure out both what Jubilee sees in him, AND what he sees in her. Like, she's great! But how does someone like HIM recognize that???? I want Logan to only be allowed to enter Gotham when picking Jubilee up, and Tim to be ABSOLUTELY BANNED from ever going anywhere with him, and Jubilee hating Bruce so so bad. But Logan agrees with the rules. I want the Martha Wayne Foundation to be funding mutant charities. I want Batman to be as good with young mutants whose powers have just kicked in as he is with all the other traumatized, vulnerable people he helps. And also to be paranoid about mutants, and assume the worst. I want Cyclops and Batman to respect each other, work together well, and VIOLENTLY HATE INTERACTING.

And I want there to have been RULES and BALANCE and it wasn't good - it was actually really ugly - but it was WORKING. And now Batman and the X-Men and the JLA and SHIELD ... it's all falling apart because Jubilee wants to hang out on Gotham rooftops forcing Tim to try weird candies. Which shouldn't be a problem. This isn't Romeo and Juliet. These are reasonable adults. Heroes. Everyone KNOWS that this shouldn't be a big deal.

But she's a MUTANT, and Wolverine's a former ASSASSIN, and the X-Men keep adding supervillains to their roster, and Wayne Industries designs power-suppressors, and Batman USES those power-suppressors, and fear isn't logical.

-

Anyways.

I have feelings about these two.

Is it a crackship if it happened in one dubiously-canon crossover thirty years ago?

[neuroticpeach]

some tkdb ramblings under the cut, read if you want i guess. Mostly some theories and centered around Rui

ok so first off, forgive me if this is something someone else has rambled about already; I am still new to the fandom, literally only started a few months ago and it has consumed me

so i am currently writing what is unexpectedly turning into a long Rui fic so most of my thoughts are about this blondie

I love that tkdb lets me reread chapters.

So when Rui is introduced, we learn about him right away that MC says he "seems like a player" and feels like she was "in a host club" (as a long time OHSHC fan and former Tamaki cosplayer, the sound thay came out of my mouth when Rui was introduced was NOT HUMAN).

Haku points out in conversation that MC and Rui, yes, both have a curse, but fundamentally different.

Obviously, there's the idea that one is going to kill the person with the Curse (er, turn them into an anomaly but we found that out later) and one kills whomever the Curse-haver touches (a fact that torments my angsty brain constantly ;_;)

but part of what Haku said is further itching in my brain at the moment while my fic is cooking: not only is the effect of the curses different, but how they got them is different as well

we know how MC got her curse. we were there.

how did Rui get his?

A little we know about Rui: formerly in Clementia, healing house, right? Hung out w/Romeo and Haru at least a little cuz he comments early on how happy it made him to see them kicking around together again. Rui also seems to be close enough w/Taiga and Haku that everybody has nicknames for each other.

Haku also teases Rui about using "that one brain cell."

okay. theories time.

MC is essentially an innocent when she gets her curse. That's part of what's so tragic about it.

my theory is that Rui did something he shouldn't have to get his curse, that is to say, he is not innocent.

So I'm looking at his curse and, as a punishment goes, it's particularly poignant because he is such a flirt. And here is where my brain went a little Disney—

Beauty and the Beast.

Wouldn't it make sense if Rui did something that spurned someone, because he's such a flirt with anything with a pulse, and the person spurned just happened to have a curse up their sleeve that was particularly punishing? And poor little simple minded Rui (said with all the love in my heart) just doesnt seem to be getting the lesson that he's supposed to learn, which is why clever Haku teases him a bit.

I need to knead and let these thoughts rise a little more for my fics. Someone talk to me about them. ;u;

OF COURSE, I could be 1000000% wrong. Maybe I'm reading into Haku's comments too much, but I dont think so. The devs have been really good at dropping tantalizing breadcrumbs for us where we aren't always expecting them.

Another thought I had was how even though Rui is sweet, his stigma is super useful, and he's fine as hell, he's still one of the Murder Suspects. Is it just because of the nature of his curse? Or could it be related to how he got the curse in the first place? Maybe the cursing was related to a jealous and/or spurned lover(s)? We still don't hear a lot about the victims in the case.

Example Scenario:

Pre-Curse Rui has a little fanclub (of course he does. see previous "fine as hell") which includes person we will call A. A happens to have cursing ability, and is spurned by Rui (Maybe intentionally, maybe accidentally, we don't know pre-curse Rui much). A gets mad and curses Rui. Then Sleeping Beauty murders end up with A and members of Rui's fanclub as victims. It would make sense that people might blame Rui here, thinking he did murders [allegedly] over being upset about the curse.

why am I kept awake at night thinking about PNGs

[little-whats-her-name]

"I can't hear you over the sound of the eight billion glasses and plates clinking, and the very high possibility that I'm going to lose my job, and the fact that everyone at this charity dinner hates me but we have to act nice to each other, and the weird lighting in this room, and these fucking Spanx!" - Katherine Hastings, probably

[7-wonders]

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes—Life has never been the kindest to you, and you've come to expect only the worst from it. But when a golden-eyed stranger shows up at your place of work and promises you that all your dreams will come true if you just trust them, how are you to say no? Get ready—a ball in the Dreaming awaits.

Christmas Traditions

Fatherhood—You're a single parent, and you (and your daughter) meet Morpheus

Give Me Everything You've Got—After a fight, you learn that Morpheus does not have the best coping skills. Like, at all.

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between—Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

It's Just a Bunch of Hocus Pocus!—It’s Halloweekend, and you’ve got a couple of parties to attend! Morpheus, who missed out on the development of Halloween into the holiday it is today, is very curious about what your plans are.

Jealousy, Jealousy—It's your turn to get jealous.

Kiss With a Fist—Normally, Dream is above mortals and their petty quarrels, but when one decides that he wants to play with fire, Dream is more than prepared to burn him. That is, until you have something to say about it.

Morpheus Does Not Understand Millennial/Gen-Z Humor

Morpheus gets jealous

Never Been Kissed—Morpheus cannot possibly wait another moment to let you know how he feels about you. What happens when it appears that you don’t reciprocate?

Of Jack-o'-Lanterns and Misperceptions—You carve pumpkins with two of Dream's sisters in the Dreaming!

Our Very Own Greek Tragedy Pt. 1 | Pt. 2—You love Morpheus, and Morpheus loves you. You're the happiest that you've ever been in your life, and your love's intention to propose to you is just the icing on top of the cake.

Too bad you don't remember any of this when you wake up.

Shopping Spree—You go shopping and have a little fashion show for Morpheus.

Sick Day—You're sick, and the absolute last thing that you want is for an overprotective King of Dreams to find out. Of course, you should know by now that it's impossible to keep anything from Morpheus, and when it comes to you, there's nothing that he won't do to make sure that you're safe and well.

The Mixup—Matthew goes sticking his beak in places it shouldn't be, and finds what he believes to be some shocking news.

The Nightmare—Your daughter has a nightmare, and Morpheus is the one to soothe her.

To the world we dream about (and the one we live in now)—Being in the right place at the right time turns everything you thought you knew on its head when a woman, imprisoned and battered, is literally thrown into your life. Left with no choice but to do the obvious, you offer her shelter and support in her time of need.

Unbeknownst to you, said woman is a powerful and ancient being who now belongs to you in accordance with the old laws. This situation definitely won’t become complicated, right?

↳ In Waking Hours (Calliope & GN!Reader (platonic))—Calliope’s planning to enjoy a nice, quiet evening sitting outside under the moon and enjoying her relative freedom when she sees you still haunted by a particularly brutal nightmare. Plans change, because she’s not about to let you face the worst parts of her former husband’s realm alone, obviously.

You get your period

You're extremely stressed out

Wishful Drinking—After Morpheus cruelly dismisses you, you decide that you’ll get back at him by staying out of the Dreaming one night for as long as you can. What you don’t anticipate is letting your feelings get the best of you and getting very drunk instead.

Find headcanons and other musings under the Dream of the Endless x Reader and Morpheus x Reader tags!

Masterlist updated 7/5/2025

[thecameronchronicles]

Heat of The Moment

TW: unhinged Rafe. Dominant sex. Dirty talk. Language. Oral sex. Hair pulling. Cum swallowing.

REQUESTED:

@gianadrichardson-blog

So the idea I have in my mind is that y/n and Rafe are dating and Rafe KNOWS that every guy wants y/n from tourons, college guys and even his best friends want her. So while y/n was out of town with her parents, Topper accidentally revealed that he had feelings for y/n and tried to date her while her and Rafe was in the talking stage. So Rafe calls y/n and sees where she at. When Rafe gets y/n location he shows up and let out his frustration he had and record them having sex with y/n then send to topper with the message “keep away from my girl”

Maybe y/n older brother have y/n phone and decided to play a prank on rafe acting like a guy had y/n phone

Heat of the Moment

"What the fuck, Top?!" Rafe accuses, holding Topper's phone high enough out of reach. But your pictures remain on the screen. More specifically, pictures the friend of your boyfriend shouldn't have.

"I- just stop it, man-"

"My girlfriend's tits are on your screen! What am I supposed to think?"

"She's in a bikini but it it doesn't matter okay? Just-just let me have it back." But Rafe smashes it before Topper can even brush his fingers against it. His finger is pointed in his former friend's face before he can right Rafe's actions that he believes wholeheartedly are justified.

"Rafe. When you and her were just talking, I...I thought I had a shot. I get that now, okay? I just, sometimes I wonder what if-"

"If I even see you looking at her after this, you won't be able to ever look again."

Rafe was already fuming. He was jealous and curious, both existing to a dangerous degree that meant his knuckles were bloodied more than healed and his voice hoarse from having defended you.

There wasn't a soul within a dramatic radius within the Outer Banks that didn't see your beauty. Whether it was the stunning way your eyes could focus and become instantly lustful with one look at your boyfriend or the way your voice warmed even the coldest of hearts, Rafe Cameron knew exactly what he had.

Perfection.

He just didn't expect to have to have to defend you to someone so close to him- someone who has apparently had feelings for you since before you were officially anything with Rafe. It makes his hands wrap tightly around the steering wheel and his foot practically punch a hole into the floor of his truck as he races across the Carolina road.

He never thought he left it to question. You were his. He was yours. It was as official as it could be without a ring or contract of marriage and yet he knew he needed to make it unquestionably true to the one person it mattered to.

So without a call or text in warning, he is pounding at your front door.

"Rafe? Are you okay baby, you-" He is over your threshold, face between your hands, your body pulled into his as he kisses you between words.

"You know I love you, yeah?" You nod with your hands coming up around his wrists. If you didn't trust him so gravely then you'd worry for the strength behind his hands as he brought you against him.

"You know I'd do anything for you?" He kisses with a grunt, more animal than the man you talked to earlier this morning.

"And that you say our word and it stops, no questions asked? That you know I put you first?" His forehead rests against yours as he waits for your agreement. It takes less than the time of a blink before he gets it.

"Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I hate you." He lifts you around him and up your steps, suddenly too far away from your room.

You were the complete opposite of touch starved and yet you felt as if you had been drowning without his touch, the first moment of contact being an exhale for relief. Only in the juxtaposition that was being his girlfriend it also made you lightheaded.

"Rafe-" His hand comes up over your mouth as he only manages to get to the steps and turns you to cover them. Your knees dig into the uncomfortable wood and yet all you can focus on is the heat of the moment.

"Need to use that word, baby?"

You shake your head as he guides your hands around the open spaces between the bars making up your bannister.

"Then hold on." His belt sounds first and then the rough fabric of his pants being shoved.

"Jesus Christ, baby, I don't even need to spit on my cock, so I?" He leans over you, kicking your legs just wide enough to leave some comfort in the angle. "Always so wet for me isn't that right?"

"Always!" You moan into his hand as he grins against your shoulder before reaching into his pocket.

You hear the wrapper of the confom being torn and make the mistake to turn and see him do it with his teeth. Something about the savagery of it and the heat behind his eyes, still possessing your care above all else, and it sends you drenching the valley awaiting him.

"Safe and-" He moans, a deep honey tone, that makes your toes curl knowing you wrap around him snuggly enough to cause such a reaction.

"Tight, baby! Fuck!" He hits the stairs beside your cheek and yet it does nothing to limit anything. If anything, it spurs you both on as his other hand releases your mouth and you're able to kiss the skin of his fist as if to soften his rigidity.

"How are you so sweet AND sexy-hmm? Always know just what I need don't you baby?" Your body wills itself to endure all that is Rafe Cameron. Every tension soiling his happiness now pumping through every snap of his hips until all that remains is the frustration you know he veils from you. Still, you trust that every shove of him into you is only a method of showing you he cares.

However, it has never been quite this possessive before. Quite this needy. Quite this deep or hard.

And you fucking love it.

His hands can't move fast enough and yet they are graceful and not amateur. He rolls your nipples as he kisses your neck, thrusting without break, and whispering every dirty thought you have constructed in your time apart.

And then he becomes completely and utterly unhinged. Taking you in his lap, he pulls you facing away from him, still seated to the root. He bounces you, one hand around your neck, as the other rubs your clit. It can't be comfortable for him with the wood beneath you and still he is too driven by the cries you're making in the sound of his name to care about anything but this next thrust-or the dozens that follow.

"Nobody knows just how dirty you get for me, isn't that right baby? How deep you take my dick in this perfect little pussy? Yeah?" He slaps your clit with just enough pressure to make you jolt until he lifts his hips and makes you forget of the sting it leaves behind.

"How loud you get? It's a miracle nobody has called the cops yet. You sound like you're in pain, shit-" He turns you to him with the grip around your neck moving to your jaw and turning you to him.

"You good baby?"

"Harder-"

"That's my fucking girl?" You're lifted with a gasp following you as he takes you into your room. You are only allowed the reprieve of wood beneath your soles for a second before he's rutting you into the bed. Hand pushing your face into the sheets to somewhat muffle your screaming, all you hear is the repetitive "yeah"s in the mix of your name as he wallows in you.

"Do I have to worry about anyone else ever knowing about how good you feel?" You are torn away from your blissful daze at the question.

"What?" You turn and face him, seeing the phone pointed towards you. The heat from your skin accelerated until it is now the marrow in your bones and you can't cool it, not that you want to.

"Who fucks you deep enough to make you soak his cock like this?"

"Rafe!" You manage as he pulls your hair and makes your back arch for him.

"Who makes you dizzy and shit when he knows just where to hit?"

He pulls you to him, against his chest until you can look up at him.

"Who loves you enough to prove to everyone on this goddamn island you're his?! Huh?"

"RAFE! GOD! YOU, RAFE?" You sob, the pleasure almost painful as he grips your hip with one hand and keeps the phone recording in the other. The video is shaky and then disposed of as his cum begins to shoot from his heavy balls and up his shaft.

"On your knees, baby-" He takes the phone back, pointing it to your face. As always, he kisses you sweetly and runs a thumb over your lips, before you take him behind your smirk.

"Ohhh baby-" You accept him slowly before opening your throat to him. Eyes locked and cheeks prepped to be hollow, you wait as he cocks his head before powering through. He thrusts.

Twice.

Once.

And then becomes a blur.

Only grunts and 'fucks' leave between moans.

"Shit baby, you're gonna make me come- you want it?" He asks, managing to open his eyes long enough to see you nod. Digging your nails into his thighs, you drive him to pulse into your throat, over your tongue, and along with your swallow.

"Open-" he points the camera to show just the good girl you are.

"I fucking love you, baby, and now nobody will question who you belong to again."

"I don't think they do, Rafe..." You laugh it off as he helps you to your feet and into his arms within your bed.

As you fall asleep, you hear him tapping away on his phone before finally focusing completely on you. You rest well within his arms, satisfied in the countless orgasms you had as he reached his own, sweet dreams awaiting you that pale in comparison to what it means to be loved by Rafe.

Across town, Topper's phone buzzes. A video file from Rafe. The new phone, bought not even ten minutes after his last one was smashed sits in wait for the message.

MP4 file.

It is opened. The sound of slurping around the impressive shaft, angry and near completion is spliced with the sight of you spread for him on the stairs as well as the hip of the bed. Your cries are only of pleasure and they echo as the video plays.

"Stay away from my girl." Comes a warning meant for Topper.

Only it isn't Topper's eyes that come to the scene.

And it isn't Topper's life that gets the threat.

It is your brother's and he has just been waiting for an excuse to let out his own rage out against Rafe.

MASTERLIST

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

synopsis: ❛❛you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.❞

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors. 

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right? 

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

"Here you go" you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

"I’m heading out," you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

"Fuck!" you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

"Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—"

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

[dark-konohagakure2]

hiii! I really love your writing and how accurately you write all my faves!💕 can I request Vincent Valentine punishing reader for having a crush on him? Much love!❤️

tw: noncon, age difference, size difference, humiliation, corruption, coffin sex, claustrophobia, breeding, biting, mild power imbalance

All characters depicted are 18+

Vincent has pretty much sworn off the idea of romantic love since losing the love of his life Lucrecia many years ago, in fact he swore off any human contact whatsoever until very recently when he joined Cloud's cause, but even then he's still a brooding loner. Vincent still isn't particularly close with anyone besides maybe Cid, so it will take him a while before he realizes that one of his teammates likes him a bit too much for his liking.

At first the former Turk will ignore her affections, brushing them off in his typical cold and aloof manner, but the dumb girl doesn't seem to get the hint, frequently wanting to pair up with him for tasks and always being so... nice to him. Her silly infatuation quickly goes from mildly annoying to infuriating, and Vincent is known to lash out when infuriated.

His patience with her will wear especially thin when the two of them are sent off together to search the Nibelheim Manor for possible clues on Sephiroth. Being in that place already has Vincent on edge, and her incessant concern for him certainly does not help matters, only expediting his inevitable outburst at her. Even Vincent himself doesn't realize he's already lost his patience until he's dragging her away to teach her a lesson on respecting her elders' boundaries.

Vincent's coffin isn't built for two, it can barely contain the tall man, let alone the both of them, but that's the least of his concern when he forces her into the coffin, his body directly on top of hers as he prepares to commit his latest sin against the insistent girl.

"Do you think you could handle a man like me? You can't. I'll give you the full weight of my sins now..."

Despite his fairly slender frame, Vincent is very well endowed, his cock thick and long, hard and throbbing from decades of neglect of his base needs. His composure is almost completely gone, practically growling and panting like a feral beast, and that's exactly what she has reduced him to.

Vincent is a 57 year old virgin, he has no experience with pleasing a woman, not even knowing where the clitoris is, but that's just fine for him, this isn't about pleasure, this is about punishment, she has to atone just as much as he does, and her sin? Daring to fall for him.

It's incredibly humiliating for her as he ruts away at her with little care for her discomfort. She thought her first time would be gentle missionary in a bed, not a feral mating in a coffin within an old, scary mansion. Her embarrassment just makes Vincent go harder, wanting to really hammer home the lesson; that naive little girls shouldn't pine for dangerous men like him.

If Vincent's composure was fading before, it's almost complete gone by the time he's about to cum. He's growing against her skin as he bites into her shoulder hard enough to pierce the skin and draw blood, as if there's a feral monster inside of him, aching to claim, to breed.

"There... Maybe that will teach you to keep your silly feelings to yourself, and you'll keep this little lesson to yourself too."

It's not like she can say anything about this to the others, Vincent is an invaluable member of their party, defeating Sephiroth would be next to impossible without the immortal former Turk, so she has no choice but to keep her mouth shut, lest she find a bullet in it.

[olderthannetfic]

Tbh, in lefty circles talking about religious trauma and rejecting religion, I really feel people need to accept more rejection of Islam on the same level as we accept rejecting, hating and mocking Christianity.

I see people write pages about rejecting Christianity, and the damage it has done to them and their wellbeing, the internalized hatred, the oppression by their family and religious leaders. Abuse or power, and sexual abuse. And people will agree with it, encourage it, even defend it even if they themselves are still a Christian.

But if you see the same written by a person who rejects Islam, people will often jump to defend the religion, and attack the writer. "They're a bad person for writing this because they're fuelling the fire of Islamophobia, and they just don't get it."

No, you don't get it. You're telling someone their trauma isn't valid, and that they shouldn't be allowed to talk about the trauma. We've made spaces that say it's ok for Ex-Christians to attack and hate Christianity, but if you've experienced something similar as an Ex-Muslim, you're a bad person for voicing it.

I literally watched people dogpile a Ex-Muslim trans woman for mocking Islam, (something that Ex-Christians also do.) but so many lefties in the surrounding community just completely dogpilled her and doxxed her because she was being "Islamophobic". Her, an Ex-Muslim immigrant, while many of these dumbasses had no contact with Islam, some did, but most weren't. But this didn't just include leftist, in it there were Muslims who vocally attacked her on social media for being queer and her rejection of Islam. As in literally, she got doxxed by lefties, and then had people from her former Muslim community beat the shit out of her while she was in town she had moved to when coming out.

And the most ironic thing, there are Muslims, Muslim queers, Muslim lefties, who have no problem with defending Ex-Muslims. Just like with the people of Christian faith who also understand if Ex-Christians hate Christianity. It's really fucked when people would rather dogpile people talking about and working through their trauma, just because they wanna defend the cause of the trauma under the guise of social justice.

--

[saphiccarma]

- Post Bellum

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary - After you ran away from sex with your girlfriends, you've been broody and upset. A work event is just the thing you need to fix that.

Warnings: 18+ Men and Minors DNI oral (rio receiving), strap on (r receiving), angry/hate sex, 'lil smidge of car sex (not really tho), thigh grinding (A doing the grinding), lil bit of nipple play, switch!Reader, switch!Rio, top!Agatha, some elevator kissing, crude language alcoholism

A/N: ...Prepare yourselves. Lowkey kinda proud of this chapter and holy shit guys I actually really like it. The smut was super fun to write.

Arms crossed over your chest; you leaned against a firm cool wall. You clutch a flask between your fingers, curling around the cold metal that holds the one thing that keeps you calm, and you bring it to your lips. The alcohol slides down your throat like fire, almost like fine grains of sand that almost choked you.

You shouldn't be drinking while on the job, but you were being moderate with it. Besides you had a high alcohol tolerance anyways. Eyes narrowing, you tighten your grip as you notice a woman talking up your...clients? Girlfriends?

You weren't sure where the three of you stood. Since you'd frozen during sex last time, you pushed them away, holding them at arm’s length like you did with everyone else in your life. Agatha let you, she respected the boundary you set and let you keep it.

Rio did not. The younger woman pushed and teased in hopes to break down your walls once again. It worked the first time, the first time you let her - her charm luring you in, but you learned that you weren't ready for them to see the parts of you that came home from war.

Your jaw clenches as the woman openly flirts with Agatha, even with Rio right next to her. It's a monumental task not to storm over there. That wasn't your job, your job was to protect them and unfortunately someone flirting wasn't physical harm.

Brown eyes meet yours and the formers sparkle with mirth. The brunette raises a perfect brow, tilting her head as if to invite you over, but you stay stubbornly in your spot. Taking another swig of the drink, you shake your head subtly.

Rio's nostrils flare in annoyance and her tongue presses against her cheek. Tauntingly, while maintaining eye contact, Rio boldly slides her hand her to Agatha's ass, squeezing it. In return you grind your teeth together so hard that you think they might crack.

Jealously bubbles in your chest, hot and burning, similar to the scorching sun of the deserts and the heat of an iron. It's wrong to be jealous, Agatha isn't even your wife or in an official relationship with you. Rio's her wife. Her partner, the person she chose to spend forever with.

And you were not.

All that you were here for was to protect them, nothing more. This was a job for the cash, for the money, not to make personal connections. Your heart clenches in protest and you exhale sharply to expel some of the feelings raging inside you.

Seeming to notice you’re not very subtle tense state, Rio pats her wife's arm, whispers something in her ear before sauntering over. She sways her hips intentionally, shoes clicking on the tile floor, and hands tucked into her suit pockets.

She wears a black suit, the first few buttons undone, a white shirt underneath and dress shoes to match the outfit. Her lips are coated in a perfect shade of red that highlights her eyes, and you hate the way you instantly stare at her face.

"How's it going?" She leans her shoulder on the wall, crossing her arms to mimic her stance. In an attempt to mock you, she puckers her lips and furrows her brows, "Look at me, I'm brooding in the corner."

You roll your eyes at her tone, "I'm not brooding. I'm keeping watch, that's what you hired me for, remember?"

As hard as you try, you can't keep your tone sharp, harsh - anything to push her away. Instead your voice comes out flat, but with an undertone of care and self-deprecating loathing. Rio counters your words with an eyeroll of your own, reaching out to flick your forehead with her nail.

"I thought we were past that."

Emotions rage inside you. A mix of frustration, hate, love, care, annoyance, they all mingle together to form a complicated jumble you can't make sense of. Emotions were never your thing, not since you joined the military.

"No," you reply slowly, working your jaw as you figure out a response, "We're not."

Hurt flashes in her eyes and you instantly regret your words, wanting to reach out and brush a stray strand away from her face, to kiss her lips softly, and most importantly to apologize for your behavior. But you don't, instead you lean back to place more distance between the two of you.

Rio doesn't let you, instead getting right up in your face. Her breath is warm as she exhales and her nails dig into your wrist when you try and pull away. There's a darkness in her eyes that should scare you, yet it only makes your thighs clench together.

"Drop the attitude," she hisses, "You're scared, aren't you? Scared that you'll fall in love. Well fucking news flash, you have."

Uncaring for the people she crashes her lips onto yours, one hand tangling into your neck. She bites your lower lip and you gasp softly, allowing Rio's tongue to plunge into your mouth, swiping along the inside of your cheek.

Everything in you screams to pull away, to shove her back and maintain the distance you carefully formed. Despite your feelings, your body reacts on instinct, pulling Rio close and uncaring for the crowd and reputation Rio has to uphold.

The minute you try and gain control of the kiss, Rio pushes back, forcing you to submit as your tongue and teeth clash.

"Admit it," she murmurs against your lips, "You've fallen for my irresistible charms. And that terrifies you, more than you're willing to admit. Because you don't know how to love anymore, do you? Tell me I'm wrong."

You purse your lips together in a hard line and glare at her. Her words hit too close to home, touch too deep and you hate it. It's a feeling that makes your gut curl in a way that reminds you of being tortured and you dig your nails into your hand to ground yourself.

"I'm. Not. Scared." The words are dragged out of you painfully, each word sandpaper on your tongue.

Rio scoffs and maintains eye contact for a moment before pulling back. She gives you a smirk, one that says more than words, and flips her hair over her shoulder. Without another word, Rio stalks back over to Agatha, not sparing you a glance.

Instead of storming after her, you pull out your flask and take another swig of the drink. Agatha glances over her shoulder to look at you, thin straps of her dress threatening to fall off her shoulders to clearly reveal the smooth skin beneath.

Pulling your eyes away from her shoulders, up her neck, you meet her eyes. She tilts her head, a silent question and her gaze flickers to Rio before back to you. Subtly, you shake your head, letting more alcohol flow down your throat.

It makes your veins warm, heat flooding through your body that had nothing to do with the way Agatha was looking at you. Absolutely nothing. You can feel the familiar comfort of the drink settle over you, an indication you'd drunk too much while on the job, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

The world buzzed around you; your surroundings blurred by the haze in your mind. All you could focus on was the two women in front of you. They were stunning, crafted by the gods themselves and placed onto earth just to taunt everyone else.

With Agatha's sharp cheekbones and oh god her nose, so kissable and you loved feeling it brush against your neck when she would kiss you. And Rio's figure, slim and shaped to perfection from how often she worked out.

Of course you weren't with them for their bodies, but it was an added bonus that they looked absolutely divine.

As the party drags on, you end up filling your drink at the bar. It's a bad idea, you know that, but it makes you feel fuzzy. It helps in a way that nothing else can. The sun has long since set and the people are now dwindling, with only a dozen or so left.

"Ready to go?" your head snaps up at the sound of Agatha's voice and you hadn't even realized you looked away. Eyes slightly bleary, you nod shakily, tucking your flask back into your jacket.

Blue eyes narrow in on you, suspicious and wary, but she doesn't say anything as you escort the two of them out of the large building. You jam a button on the elevator, standing off the side as you wait. Rio takes the opportunity to loop her arm through yours.

You stiffen and clench your jaw, refusing to look at her as you stare straight ahead at the elevator. A finger, cool to the touch, guides your chin to meet her eyes.

"You've been drinking," she observes with a hum, tilting her head and nose twitching slightly. It reminds you of a rabbit.

"So have you," you scoff, subconsciously leaning into her touch, soft and cold and so so nice, "So has Agatha."

The older woman glances in your direction with a raised eyebrow, a clear warning sign not the drag her into the conversation. Huffing out a breath through your nose, you glance back at the elevator, praying for it to come so that you can leave and get in the car.

Rio shrugs flippantly, eyes sparkling and leans up to press a kiss to your cheek, "Yeah but you are working." Her voice is almost sing song as she taps your cheek, sharp nail brushing against your skin.

Finally, the lift dings, a button on the top lighting up as the doors slide open. You usher them into the confined space and realize how bad of an idea it was. The minute the door slides shut, Rio has you pinned against the wall.

You were strong enough to fight back, but her lips are on yours and you don't get a chance to. It's pathetic how you melt into her, mouth parting to grant her tongue access and fingers tangling in her hair. Agatha snorts, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"Rio, I thought we agreed to give her space," Her tone is casual, as if her wife isn't kissing you senseless right now.

A strangled moan, swallowed up by Rio's mouth, escapes you as her thigh presses between your legs. It's a delicious pressure that knocks the air from your lungs. You pull at her hair, gasping when she pulls away from the kiss.

Instead of giving Rio a chance, you tug her head back and attach your lips to her neck. Violent kisses, sloppy with an open mouth and wild teeth, trail along her neck. She laughs softly, grabbing your shoulders to steady herself, and you flip the two of you around.

"Fuck you," you grumble, pushing her suit aside to kiss along her shoulder, "So fucking persistent."

She exhales shakily before giving a response, "Well it's currently working."

The slender collum of her throat is bared to you and you take advantage of that. Hands settle on your hips, but they're far too heavy to be Rio's and they slip under your shirt. Agatha brushes against your jaw and she presses the most tender of kisses to your jaw.

"Someone's aggressive," she murmurs, hands brushing up against your sides and then back down again, "I figured you had it in you, I was just waiting to see it."

You don't give her a verbal response, just biting down hard on the juncture between Rio's shoulder and neck, letting the other woman give a whiney moan. Smirking into her neck, you let that be the response for Agatha instead.

Her teeth scrape against your skin and you shiver, pausing in your own movements.

And just to interrupt the moment, the elevator drops to a stop, pinging to signal it. You pull apart from the brunette women, smoothing down your outfit and taking a deep breath. Rio leans against the wall for a moment, catching her breath before she straightens out.

"Car," you say stiffly, not meeting their eyes as you cross your arms and guide them out. Agatha rolls her eyes fondly but lets you, dragging Rio with her.

They both climb into the back seat of the car and you slide into the driver’s seat. Starting the car, you pull out of the parking lot, hands clenching around the wheel. A wet sound draws your attention to the backseat.

You glance at the review mirror, knuckles turning white as you notice what they're doing. Agatha has her hand cupping Rio's neck, holding her close and Rio is grabbing Agatha's hips. Their lips are locked together in a slow dance of love.

Jealousy, a feeling you have no right to, boils beneath your skin and you turn back to the road, but it's not an easy task. They grow louder, small sounds coming from behind you, and you can hear a seatbelt unbuckle.

You almost think the steering wheel might break with how hard you're gripping it and you swear steam is coming out of your ears. Reaching over the crank up the A.C, you pull on your collar as the car heats up. It's nothing compared to the desert sun, but the warmth was nearly unbearable.

"Agatha," Rio's voice is a low moan and you risk a glance back.

Agatha's hand is beneath her pair of slacks and based on the look on Rio's face, is swiping through the younger woman's folds. The sight makes you swerve slightly, drawing Agatha's attention. She smirks, lips curling upwards teasingly.

"Focus on the road," she chides, turning back to Rio. It takes great effort, but you obey, pressing down on the gas to go faster. Their house comes into view as Rio's moans grow louder and the seats creak from their movements.

Every so often your eyes flick back into the rearview mirror, and it makes your stomach tighten and your fingers curl around the wheel. Slamming the car into park, you're out of your door in an instant. You round to Agatha's side of the car.

A rare side of you is showing as you drag her out and then Rio, dragging them into the house. The door is kicked shut and you stomp up the stairs, ignoring Rio's yelp and Agatha's annoyed huff. All you care about it getting them into the bedroom and fucking at least one of them senseless.

"Strip," you order, turning to face Rio. You would have better luck with her than Agatha.

She rolls her eyes and yanks her arm out of your grip, "Make me."

A low growl rumbles in your chest, and you let go of Agatha, not caring what she does. Grabbing Rio's shirt, you yank it off her head, tossing it somewhere in the room. A flicker of concern passes through you at how rough you're being, but you know Rio would stop you if she was uncomfortable. You tug your own shirt off next, leaving you in simply a bra.

As your hands fumble with the button of her pants, you crash your lips onto Rio's. Her laugh turns into a breathy gasp, and you let your tongue swipe into her mouth. Absently you tug her pants down, leaving her in only a pair of simple black cotton panties and lacy bra.

Agatha is rummaging around in the background, but your focus is solely on Rio. With rushed movements, you walk her backwards until her knees hit the bed and you fall on top of her. Not once do you break the kiss.

It's an angry clash as you pour your emotions into the lip lock - that burning feeling in your gut and the swell of care in your chest. You straddle Rio's hips, hands pinning her wrists above her head.

You break the kiss, moving down her neck, "Keep your hands there."

She laughs, bucking her hips teasingly. Rio grabs your hips, pulling you close and grinning up at you with white teeth flashing. Slowly, she rolls her hips, pushing them up into yours and you can feel how wet she is.

"You're feeling bossy tonight huh?" Her words are punctuated by a sharp nip to your earlobe, "We'll see how long that lasts."

Your hands find her wrists again, slamming them down above her head. Teeth sinking into her shoulder, you lick at the small droplet of blood and moan softly. It's a coppery taste and for once not assosciated with pain and suffering.

"I said keep them there," you growl, "So shut the fuck up and listen before I gag you."

It's a delicious sight to see her eyes widen and lips part slightly in surprise. Cautiously, you let go of her hands, once you're sure she'll stay still and let your hands trail down her body. Her skin is smooth, toned muscles hidden beneath that tense as you feel her up.

You begin to kiss along her jaw, a shudder running through her body, and you move to her neck. Pulse jumping beneath your lips you sigh softly and feel something creak behind you on the bed. The buckle of a belt.

Slithering down Rio's body, you maintain eye contact as you kiss the valley between her breasts, down her stomach and finally, just above her panties. Her hips buck and she whines desperately.

"Just fuck me already," she groans, hands twitching above your head.

You ignore her, pressing a soft kiss to her clothed, dripping sex. A pair of hands grabs your hips, pulling your panties and pants down to reveal your own soaked core. Silicone taps along your slit, and you exhale shakily. Agatha was wearing a strap.

She leans down, her front pressed against your clothed back, "Keep going," she orders, voice low and husky, "Don't stop on my behalf."

There's a light squeeze to your ass and you moan into Rio's core. After gathering your bearings, you push her panties aside and inhale the scent of her arousal. Agatha waits until your tongue pokes out to thrust into you, eliciting a sharp gasp.

The vibrations have Rio moaning as well, and her back arches slightly as she fists the sheets above her head. Her sound of pleasure spurs you on and you scrape your teeth over her clit lightly before pushing your tongue into her entrance.

Agatha sets a ruthless pace behind you, the bed rocking with each snap of her hips. For a brief moment you wonder how she's going to get off, but then you feel something wet and sticky grind against your calf and the angle of the strap changes.

Flexing your calf muscles, you give Agatha a harder surface to grind on and you double you efforts on Rio. Her walls clench around your fingers and she gasps and whines above you, hips bucking desperately.

"F- fuck," she curses, the word drawn out and high pitched, "Fuck sweetheart you feel so good."

A light pressure is applied to your clit, making you freeze for a moment as you gasp, and jerk into Agatha's touch.

"Keep going or I stop," she snarls, stilling for a moment. You're quick to resume your frantic lapping at Rio's dripping center. Finally, the brunette breaks and her hands shoot to your hair, pulling you close and grinding against your tongue.

You can feel your climax approaching, rapidly building like an avalanche ready to topple, and based on the shake in Rio's thighs and her moans becoming louder and needier, she's close too. Suckling on her clit, you whimper as Agatha pinches yours.

"Neither of you are coming until I am, understood?" Her words cut through your pleasure like a knife but you manage a shaky nod and Rio whines out a "yes" above you. You lift your leg up slightly, hoping to help Agatha as she continues to pound into her.

She bottoms out before pulling completely out and thrusting back in. You keep Rio on the edge, just like yourself, as you wait for permission from Agatha to come. Time drags on but you can feel her movements getting sloppier.

Just to make it worse, Agatha slides one hand to your breast, underneath your bra and toying your nipple. It elicits a pornographic sound from you and you shudder, eyes threatening to roll into the back of your head.

After what seems like an eternity, Agatha pants, "Go ahead," her grip on your hips is bruising as her hips rock against your calf, "You can come now."

Her words are all you need to come with a loud sound of pleasure, the vibrations pushing Rio over the edge as well. Her hands loosen in your hair but her thighs clamp around your head to keep your close as she rides out her orgasm.

You feel a gush of white-hot fluid coat your leg from Agatha, and your own drips along the strap and down the bed. The three of you lay there for a moment, Agatha peppering the back of your neck with soft kisses while you tilt your head to rest on Rio thigh.

Your leg is sticky when Agatha finally sits up, climbing off the bed to take off her strap. She returns a few moments later with a wet wash cloth.

"C'mere," she murmurs, sitting you upright and pulling you off Rio. The other woman sits up against the headboard, still panting and her eyes half-lidded. Agatha takes the towel to your leg, wiping away the fluids gently before moving onto Rio.

Once the two of you are cleaned up, you squirm under the blankets, curling into the woman you had just fucked. Rio laughs, clearly amused by the irony of your shift in demeanor, but wraps her arms around you.

Agatha slips into bed next you, her hand draping over your waist and resting on Rio's hip. You sigh softly as you settle between them, letting your breathing even out.

[sparkleofpizza]

The Alchemy

Lando Norris x fem!reader

The beginning.

THE 2019 SEASON

Melbourne, Australia, 2019

I was nervous, I knew you shouldn't be, but I was.

The sun was shining bright down at the Melbourne Circuit, you could hear the delighted conversations from fans just outside of the motorhome. Everyone was excited for the upcoming season of Formula 1, with new drivers and grid line up changes. And I was one of the new faces at the paddock, although not a driver.

I’ve been no stranger to this whole life at the paddock and following Formula 1. I grew up with it as I’d follow my father around since the moment i learned how to walk.

Jenson Button, former Formula 1 driver and world champion. I carried my last name with pride, I love my dad more than anything in the world, but the moment I showed genuine interest in the motorsport world people started to talk.

So now, I can't help but wonder, what is everyone going to say the minute you walk into the paddock as not a guest, but as a McLaren intern.

Sure, I will be the first to admit that having the Button last name did help I get this internship, but I conclude the training to be here on your effort, with my intelligence, my studies and everything I prepared myself for.

I knew working at the PR department didn't come easy in the motorsport world, I not only had to deal with PR, reporters, FIA, and the drivers, but you had to understand the dynamic of the sport, of the car, and everything else in case I needed to step up to give a statement on behalf of a driver or the team.

I spent countless days, in 2018, going over the FIA regulations, learning about the cars, all while taking classes in UNI and juggling the McLaren PR training.

Someone called out my name in a soothing manner. I lifted your head, meeting Sophie's smile. Behind her there were two men, one standing tall and proud and the other a bit more awkwardly. I knew very well who they were as I will be working close to them.

"Hi, Sophie." I smile at her "Would you like to join me for coffee?"

She nods, taking a sit across from me and gesturing the two men to do the same.

"I wanted to introduce you three properly since you'll be working close together." She says "These are our 2019 drivers, Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. This is Y/n, she is our new PR intern."

I smile at both of them.

“It’s nice to finally meet you both.”

Carlos smiles “Likewise, I hope we get along well, the three newbies of McLaren.”

I laugh at his little joke and Lando follows suit with his own laughter that is a bit too contagious.

He seems a bit shy, maybe it’s because it’s his first season in Formula 1 and he feels like he has a lot to prove. In a sense I relate to him. We’re both here to show we’re good and deserve to be here.

And without even speaking for more than 5 minutes with him, I can already feel that we’re going to be friends soon enough.

Xangai, China, 2019

I have my back turned to the door of McLaren hospitality as I fumble with the coffee machine. It’s very early in the morning on Friday, a few hours away from the start of free practice. I am feeling exhausted from the long flight from England to China and the different time zones.

“It seems like the coffee machine is winning the fight.” A voice cut through the silence of the hospitality.

I turn around to find Lando standing beside me with a smile on his face, showing his dimples and amusement.

“I can’t get it to make coffee, I think it’s broken.” I complain with a huff

“Did you turn it on?” He asks me amused

“What?”

“Did you turn on the machine?”

“Of course I…” He reaches his arm across from me, pushing a button and the coffee machine beeps before finally brewing my coffee. I feel my cheeks go warm in embarrassment “Sorry, I’m uh still half asleep.”

He giggles, that infectious laugh of his that I always find myself smiling and giggling along whenever I hear it. If there is one thing I have already learned from Lando, it's that it’s nearly impossible to be serious around him. He carries this natural good natured aura, and he’s funny and likes to make jokes and see the good side of things. And whenever I’m around him I find myself a giggling mess.

We grab our cups of coffee and take a seat at one of the comfortable arm chairs at the corner of the room.

“You look tired.” Lando points out, sipping his coffee.

“I’m jet lagged, and I had a paper to turn in for uni so I stayed up until late and I only got a few hours of sleep on the plane because I had to review the questions for yesterday’s press conference.” I tell him, basically chugging down my coffee “Do you think I’d get fired if I drank Red Bull?”

He shakes his head.

“You should get some sleep during FP1.” He tells me

I sigh “Yeah, but it’s not really worth the drive back to the hotel, I will probably only manage a twenty minute nap before I have to come back here.”

“You can nap in my driver's room.” He offers, a friendly smile on his face

“Oh, no, I can’t accept it.” I shake my head “Thank you, thought.”

Lando smiles, leaning over the armrest of his seat to get closer to me.

“I insist. You need sleep to be on top of your game. Come on.” He stands up offering his hand. I eye it for a moment before accepting it. He pulls me up to my feet.

He guides me through the corridors of the hospitality until we reach his driver’s room. He opens the door and I’m a bit surprised at how neat it looks. I half expected it to be a mess of clothes.

“Here, you can sleep on the couch, it isn’t much but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you.” I smile, sitting on the couch and taking off my shoes.

I get into a comfortable position, curling up on the couch and instantly closing my eyes. I feel something soft covering me and I open my eyes a bit confused.

“I don’t have a blanket.” Lando says, his cheeks turning red. “So I uh… covered you with my jacket.”

I feel my chest grow warm at his sweet gesture. I smile at him.

“Thank you, Lando.”

He smiles back at me, and at that moment, I think is when I started to have a crush on him.

Barcelona, Spain, 2019

I should have expected Spain to be a bit insane considering the fact that I work with a Spanish driver. The minute I stepped out of the car with Carlos following behind me, the fans started to scream and throw themselves at us.

I’m not unfamiliar with the whole passionate fans wanting pictures and autographs, but since I used be a toddler or a child, they at least head the decency to not push and pull at my dad because I was clinging to him.

But now I am an adult, and they don’t care about those things anymore and I had never been mobbed by fans before without having my dad or my uncles by my side.

The fans screamed at Carlos who was doing his best to attend each and every single one of them. And things only got worse when Lando arrived and they suddenly wanted pictures of the best new funny duo of the grid.

They pulled at me, shoving pictures on my face to get them to sign since I worked with them, and they yelled questions about what it was like to work with the both young drivers.

I tried to step away, get away from them fans, but I was stuck in between the mass of people and to make matters worse they managed to separate me from Carlos and Lando who were looking at me concerned over the chaos.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck is going on?” A harsh loud voice cut through the yell of fans “Stop pulling at her! Get your hands off of her!”

Suddenly a tall blonde man dressed in red was pushing the fans away from me, shielding me with his body as he yelled.

I cling to the back of Sebastian's Ferrari shirt, telling like a little girl again, but completely relieved that he was there with me with his familiar force of comfort he always knew how to bring me.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, gluing me to his side and I knew if I wasn’t 20 years old anymore he would have picked me up and carried me like a toddler out of this mess. He glared at everyone who tried to get in our way and stirred me inside the paddock.

“Prinzessi.” Sebastian called me the same nickname from when he first met me as a newborn “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

I shake my head “No, I’m… I’m fine.” I say, but my voice is shaky and he can tell that I’m holding back tears.

He places his hands on my shoulders, peering down at me with intense concerned eyes as he scans my body to look for any injury.

“What the hell is wrong with you both?” Sebastian yells the minute Lando and Carlos finally catch up to us “They were eating her alive!”

They look sheepish and terrified of being scolded by the German who looks lived with anger.

“She’s your PR assistant, but you’re supposed to keep your fans in check to keep her safe!” Sebastian continues with the harsh tone “She could have gotten hurt! They were touching her and shoving her! That was so reckless from the both of you!”

They nod, stiffly.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vettel.” Lando says, eyes wide “I promise this will never happen again. I’ll- I’ll make sure she is safe at all times from now own. I- I swear!”

Sebastian doesn’t correct him on the Mr. Vettel name calling, he nods still with a glare.

“Come on, prinzessin.” He says in a much more soft tone, his arm resting against my shoulder in a protective parental manner “Let’s get you to Ferrari, uh? I will get you one of those chocolate pastries you love so much.”

With one final glare Sebastian takes me away from them. The McLaren drivers share a confused look as they watch me walk away.

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 2019

The Monaco Grand Prix is always a big event. Lots of celebrities and former drivers gather in the city to watch the historical race, and that’s how I find myself sitting at the McLaren hospitality chatting away with uncle Nico while my dad gets us drinks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch the race from Mercedes, uncle Nico?” I ask him, making my best innocent look that always got me away with things when I was younger and probably until this day when it comes to the drivers who watch me grow up.

“No, of course not.” Nico Rosberg shakes his head, a found and almost proud smile on his face “This is the first race I am watching this season in person and you’re officially a Formula 1 employee, I’m staying all weekend here with you at McLaren.”

I want to argue with him that I’m not technically a F1 employee as I’m just an intern, but he gives me a pointed look and I only nod.

“So, what is this that I hear about you and a rookie driver?”

I widen my eyes as I look at him.

“What? What are you talking about?”

Nico laughs at me “Seb has told me that you’ve become inseparable from the rookie McLaren driver, Norris.”

I huff, I should have known uncle Sebastian would open his mouth and gossip about me to his retired friends.

As if being summoned, Lando walked into the McLaren hospitality, wearing his cap backwards and smiling big as always. Carlos is beside him as usual and they both make their way over once they spot me.

“Hola, pequenita.” Carlos greets me, ruffling my hair affectionately before spotting Nico sitting across for me and getting a bit embarrassed.

Lando stands beside me ready to make a joke when he notices Carlos’ expression and widening his eyes when he sees Nico as well.

“Hello, Nico.” Carlos greets him

“Carlos, always good to see you.” He smiles before turning to Lando “And you must be one of the 2019 rookies, Lando?”

Lando nods quickly “Yeah, yeah. That’s me, nice to meet you Mr. Rosberg.”

Nico’s smile widens as Lando addresses him as Mr. Rosberg, feeling pleased with himself. I shot him a warning glare.

“Please, join us.” He says, motioning for the boys to the empty seats.

Lando sits beside me as Carlos sits across from me, leaving one empty space at the head of the table.

Nico makes light conversation, asking mostly questions about Formula 1, but I could see the glint in his eyes every time he asked Lando something, who seemed incredibly shy at receiving attention from a World Champion.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get the drinks, I ran into some old friends.” My dad says walking to the table with a glass of my favorite refreshing drink to have in Monaco “There you go, sweetheart.”

I smile, accepting the drink “Thank you, dad.”

Lando and Carlos both choke on their saliva at the same time when they hear me call Jensen Button my dad.

“Ah, just the men I wanted to meet!” He exclaims “Carlos, Lando, you both have been doing such good jobs here at McLaren. My daughter talks a lot about you.”

I watch as they become flustered over the news. My dad smiles, taking a sit at the head of the table.

“I heard you both let her get swamped by a mob of fans?” He asks with a smile, but I can see the hard look in his eyes.

“Dad!” I scold him “Uncle Seb already gave them a hard time!”

My father chuckles, soon being followed by Nico. Carlos and Lando’s eyes are wide and they look terrified.

“I know, I know.” My dad lifts his hands in surrender “I’m just messing with them. But I still have eyes and ears on the paddock so…”

“Dad!” I scold him once more.

He laughs again and finally switch subjects, talking about the new grid line up of this year and asking questions to Lando and Carlos who seem to become a bit more comfortable at the presence of Jenson Button and Nico Rosberg.

Hockenheim, Germany, 2019

Lando was in a bad mood, I could tell it from far away. He was moving frantically around the garage and he had a scowl on his face.

The past five races have been of ups and downs from him, he had two DNF, one race out of top ten because he got p11 and two races where he scored points. But he was pissed off still from his p11 on his home race in England.

It also didn’t help that the reporter he got placed with decided to improvise some questions that wasn’t pre approved and it made Lando uncomfortable with the way he was pressing on the matter of him doing a bad job at his home race.

And then, to make matters worse, he DNFed again today.

“Lando.” I say his name in a soft tone

He whips his head quickly towards me, a deep frown on his face.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I say, I place a hand on his forearm, squeezing it in reassurance “It’s raining terribly today, everyone is spinning.”

He huffs annoyed.

“I should be good at racing in the rain.” He complains.

“How many times have you raced in this circuit?” I ask him, calmly.

“Well- this was the first time, but…”

I cut him off “And how many times have you raced in the rain in a Formula 1 car?”

Lando blinks at me as he answers “This was also the first time.”

I nod, my thumb rubbing sof circles on his forearm.

“And how do you expect to be good at something you’re doing for the first time?”

He looks away from me, and I can tell he is staring to consider my words.

“Valtteri has been doing this for a long time and he also crashed.” I tell him.

That get him to look at me again, his frown turning into something a bit more hopeful.

“Bottas didn’t finish the race?”

I shake my head “No, he didn’t. Even the experienced ones are having a hard time out there. This is only your first race in the rain, Lando.”

He sighs, and slowly he nods his head. He shifts his arm, making my hand slide down and towards his. His hand is much bigger than mine and it’s warm despite the cold weather from the rain. He squeezes my hand.

“Thank you. I just-…”

I smile at him, squeezing his hand back.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

And for the first time since he DNFed, I saw Lando’s dimples as he smiled at me.

Marina Bay, Singapore, 2019

Singapore has always been a hard circuit. The warmth and humidity did no good for the drivers to be racing for long periods of time. Still, it’s one of my favorite circuits because I find it beautiful to watch the race at night.

I’m watching from the McLaren garage, this time considering the hot weather conditions, they allowed the PR team to wear lighter clothes, so I’m in a simple dress, standing close to the AC and sipping water every few minutes.

I wince when I watch Carlos spin and crash into the barrier. The garage grows quiet for a minute.

“He’s ok!” His race engineer announces and we all finally breath normally again

A few moments later Carlos enters the garage with an annoyed look on his face. He places his helmet on one of the shelves and go to speak to his team.

I keep my eyes trained on the screen to watch Lando’s progress while I look for the schedule of reporters who want a world with Carlos after his DNF.

I accept the request of two journalists and move over to where Carlos is.

“Hey… you ready for some interviews?” I ask, eyeing him

He clenched his jaw before nodding and following me out of the garage and onto the media pan.

I give out instructions to him on the way there and step back when he positions himself to give the interviews. I watch intensely, jotting out necessary information on my iPad and ready to intervene at any given moment, but despite the bad situation, the interviews go smoothly and soon enough we’re back at the garage.

Carlos excuses himself to go shower and change clothes, clearly not in the mood for conversation.

In a blur of moments I watch as uncle Seb wins the Singapore Grand Prix, a proud smile on my face. Lando finishes in p7 which is great since he’s on the pointing zone.

“Congratulations, Lando. You did a really good job today!” I tell him

His smile grows bigger “Thank you, thank you!”

Even though he’s happy, I can notice the tiredness ok his face. He’s completely drenched in swest and I can see the slightly tremor of his hands, probably about to begin an hypoglycemic episode without even realizing.

“Hey, why don’t you take a sit?” I say, gently grabbing both his arms and walking him to a chair. I move quickly as I push my water bottle into his hands and search for a snack “Here.”

Lando looks at me a bit confused, but obliged.

“Oh.. wow.” He chuckles “How did you even know how to do this? I didn’t even realize I was feeling weak.”

I smile, my hand twitches at my side as I feel the want to run my fingers over his curls.

“I’ve been on the watching side of this sport since I learned how to walk. I learned a thing or two.”

He nods, still munching on the chocolate protein bar I gave him.

“Yeah… I uh sometimes forget you’re the Jenson Button’s daughter.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Lando tilts his head to the side, confused, but doesn’t say anything and I’m grateful for that.

Austin, United States, 2019

The season is coming to an end, thankfully. All the traveling, working and university studying at the same time has been taking a toll on me. It is too much, and I could see it every time I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror. The circles staring back at me.

My body was sore, my throat scratchy and my head hurt. I knew the flu was making it’s way to dominate my body.

Still, I put on makeup to cover up my sickness face and went to the paddock for media day.

“Buenos dias!” Carlos greeted me once I entered the van and sat across from him and beside Lando who was bouncing with energy on the seat

“Good morning.” I say, cringing a little at the way my voice sounded

Lando frowned, pushing his face close to mine to examine me.

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a low voice, his brows furrowing

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Still, he kept analyzing me. From the corner of my eyes I could see Carlos lips turn upwards in a smile he hid behind his phone as he scrolled through it.

Lando said my name slowly, softly.

“You look sick.”

I pout slightly as I say “Geez, thank you for saying I look terrible.”

He huffs, clearly not finding my attempt to brush it off as funny as I did. He lifted his hand up before placing it on my forehead.

“You’re hot.”

“Oh, so now I’m…”

“Stop trying to deflect it.” Lando cuts me off before I can make another joke. “You’re sick. Why didn’t you say anything? You should be in bed resting.”

I shake my head, getting away from his hand.

“I’m not sick. I’m great. I’m just jet lagged and a bit tired, nothing some coffee won’t fix.”

Lando frowns and it takes me by surprise to see the irritated look on his face directed at me. Sure, I’ve seen him mad before when the race doesn’t go the way expected or when the media gets too much, but never aimed at me.

“I’ve seen you jet lagged and tired before and this is not it.”

I say his name in a sigh and he says my name in a warning. We stared at each other for what feels like forever, before Carlos giggles at us and says we arrived at the paddock.

The minute I get out of the van I start to quickly walk inside the paddock, scanning my pass, knowing the guys will stop to talk to the fans and I will be free of Lando’s questioning. I start to make my way to the McLaren hospitality when I feel a large hand land on my shoulder.

I flinch in surprise, whipping my head around and finding Lando beside me, still frowning.

“Lando.” I try to sound stern as I say his name, but it gets mixed up with a cough I try to hold in.

That only makes his frown deepen. He starts to drag me somewhere.

“You’re going to the medic center now.” He says, stern.

I complain and try to stand still, but he is taller, bigger and much stronger than me so he basically drags me.

I can see some people turning around to look at us, but I keep telling him to let go.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sebastian shows up in front of us, hands on his waist and I know that behind his sunglasses he is glaring at Lando. “What is going on here?”

“She’s sick and she’s being stubborn about it.” Lando says, still holding onto my shoulder “So I’m taking her to the medic center.”

Sebastian frowns, placing his sunglasses on top of his head as he takes a step closer to me.

“I’m not sick.” I say “Lando is being dramatic. Tell him to leave me alone.”

“She is sick! She even has a fever!”

Sebastian looks between the two of us, but he knows me long enough to know I am lying. He places a hand on my forehead.

“Norris ir right, you do have a fever, prinzessin.”

“No I don’t.” I say stubbornly.

He arches an eyebrow, as if challenging me.

“Do you want me to carry you to the medic center like you’re still a tiny baby?” He asks and I shake my head quickly, knowing very well he isn’t bluffing “Then let Norris take you and follow everything the medics say.”

“But Sebby!” I whine.

“Prinzessin.” He gives me an unimpressed look “Go to the medic center with Norris, now. And I’m not asking, I am telling you to go.”

I huff with a pout, knowing I won’t win this argument so I let Lando take me to the medic center while Sebastian watches from the distant as the McLaren rookie fusses over me.

Abu Dhabi, Saudi Arabia, 2019

The paddock was busier than ever, so many people with so many big smiles and shouts of happiness.

It’s the last race of the season and it leaves a bittersweet feeling on my chest. On one hand I am extremely happy that the season is finally over and I will be able to go back to a somewhat normal routine, going to college everyday, normal sleep schedules, as normal as an university student sleep schedule can go, and staying at home for a bit.

But at the same time, I am upset about being away from Formula 1 for the time being. I got used to seeing Lando and Carlos everyday, they are already a big important part of my life. I like the thrill of being in a different place every other week, of learning new things and watching the races.

I’m sitting at the VIP lounge section at the rooftop, overlooking the paddock bustling with activities. I’m sipping an Italian soda while I soak in the last moments of the 2019 season.

I don’t say anything as Lando slips quietly on the seat beside me. He has dark sunglasses perched on the top of his nose and he’s wearing a black McLaren shirt. His thigh brushes my slightly to gather my attention.

I shift in my seat to look at him and he already has that dimple smile on his face.

“It’s been a long year, huh?” He says quietly

I nod, smiling softly at him.

“It has been… feels like it was yesterday that I meet you and Carlos on my first day at the paddock.”

He hums, reaching out for my glass of Italian soda and taking a sip without even asking for it. I don’t mind, it’s normal between us by now.

“How was your first year as a Formula 1 employee?” He asks

“Better than I expected to be honest.” I tell him, playing with the hem of my dress “I didn’t get bad words from people for being Jenson Button’s daughter.”

Lando nods, understanding what I’m hinting at.

“You’ve been doing a good job, I think you’ve proved yourself here.”

“No, I haven’t yet.” I tell him. “But what about you? How was your first year as a Formula 1 driver?”

His smile widens “It was insane. Sometimes still feels like I’m dreaming. I know the results I’ve been getting aren’t ideal yet, but being here… it’s great.” I can tell he’s happy by the way his eyes lit up “I got so luck to have a good teammate.”

I nod, he sure indeed found a friend in Carlos.

“And even luckier to have the most beautiful and incredible PR intern.”

My cheeks grow hot the minute my brain register and processes his words. I lift my eyes to look at him, his cheeks are also tinted pink and he was a sweet smile on his face.

We stare at each other for a moment, only gazing in each others eyes. I reach for his hand and he squeezes mine in his big one.

“Will you be here with me next year?” Lando asks in a soft tone.

“Yes.” I breath out “I’ll be here with you next year.”

[jweekgoji]

You can do Transformers Earthspark Megatron x Female reader where both were conjux but are divorced, the reader is only with the autobots so as not to be in the cells also that both had a sparkling but who is with the weckers, let's say that the relationship between Megatron and the reader was nice at first but everything changed in the war, Megatron treated the reader and her Sparkling badly, let's say that now the reader doesn't like to be around Megatron especially when she sees how he treats Twich like a daughter, but Megatron still wants to have something with Reader

Megatron/Femme!Reader [TFES]

tw: brief mentions of past trauma, past toxic relationships, guilt. additional tags: Cybertronian!Reader, Femme!Reader word count: ~1,9k a/n: I liked how they handled Starscream and Megatron's dialogue in s1, too bad it was wasted.

You had no right to be angry with the terrans. Born in this strange world, far from the home planet, they had no idea who they were or what their fate would be. To most humans, they were nothing but a threat. To your race, they were the only ray of hope for the future.

So why can't you still look away from them without a twinge of anger deep within your spark? Why is it that every time a small, scarlet terran tries to learn more about you, you throw that sharp, irritated look in her direction?

Another, yet another, long, languid day at the former G.H.O.S.T base, which has received a small rebranding, now completely at the disposal of the Autobots. You are completely focused on the monitor screen in front of your optics, your fingertips gently pressing each key.

You have no desire whatsoever to spend your entire attention on this useless waste of time. You would gladly leave this Primus-damned planet if you could.

And yet, you're happy to forget about everything around you for a second. That constant, loud laughter under your pedes when one of the Malto family runs past you, chasing after one of their siblings. Arcee tried to crack a joke or two whenever you two passed each other. Prime, for some reason, has decided that you need his painfully pathetic speeches about how if you need any help, you can always go to him.

It would seem that only Elita, of all the veterans, could understand you in any way.

You would gladly spend cycles alone with any of them on an island far from civilisation, only if it meant you would never have to see him again.

“Will you teach me some new moves in the air?” Twitch sits on Megatron's shoulder, looking at the older mech with her those big, yellow optics. “That moves with your arm cannon really inspired me!”

The little Terran blatantly thrusts her arm forward, automatically, activating her own weapon. A quiet scoff escaped from Megatron as he watches over the drone, noting her usual excited and very determined expression. Out of all the group, she seems to be taking the leader's role the most.

“If you promise not to shoot anyone here,” he gently reaches for Twitch, using his pointing finger to lower her arm cannon down, a soft smile plastered on his face.

The crimson terran's optics are focusing on Megatron's own, before she quickly glances towards you, the miniature pair of rotor wings bristling in admiration.

“And— we can take (...) with us too! I heard you two were an amazing pair back on Cybertron!” Twitch carefully stands up before starting to circle around in the air.

It's hard not to notice how much the young terran seeks to hold her deep respect for you, despite the clear ignorance you show her every single time she tries to speak with you. That naive childish adoration is cute, in some way, reminding you of the time when your own sparkling was once as bold and trusting as her.

You really shouldn't hold the grudge against her just because you feel that twisted sense of jealousy because of what you dreamed of so much, but never had the chance to get it.

Megatron's red optics track the terran across the room, only to lock onto your frame, once you were mentioned. He felt a pang of regret every single time he saw you. The memories of your shared past never left the impact on his mind, even though he tried so hard to get over it. For both yours and his sake too.

‘It's been countless solar cycles, Megatron. Don't make it harder for her,’ Optimus' words ringing in his mind. If only it was that easy.

He should have just focused on his own job, dealing with what is left of his past troops, the leftover of G.H.O.S.T's impact, but would it actually help him? To dig his own sick guilt and remorse somewhere deep down, in some naive hopes that everything can just magically go back to how it was? To pretend that it's fine to forget and run away from your past mistakes?

No, it wouldn't be fair to himself. Not to mention, everything he did against you was never fair to you in the first place. Shaking his helm, Megatron tries to reach for the terran, tell her that it's not the time now, and later, he will give her all his time and attention to guide the young one in her path.

That was, until Twitch wrapped her tiny servos around your own, looking up at you with those same optics she gave to Megatron, as if hoping she could somehow warm up your cold spark to her, to make you forget of whatever held you down from accepting her.

Poor thing. Thinking she is somehow the core source of your problems, even though she has no idea what exactly she has done, except for just being born in the wrong place and time.

“Please? I promise to listen, ma'am!” Twitch slightly, tightens her hold on your servo, the smile still as innocent as ever.

The tension is palpable. For just a moment, the three of you don't let out a single word. Everyone was focused on you, and only you stood in the center of their attention.

You sigh, looking towards the young terran right next to you. It will pain you to deny her, you think, but it is for the best as you try to reassure yourself once again.

“Twitch, you shouldn't—” Megatron tries to step out towards you and get the terran back away from you, only to be interrupted by your own voice.

“I'm afraid I can't help you with that for now, Twitch,” you say, using this calm, soft motherly voice of yours. “But be aware. Not everyone here deserves your trust.”

That smile slowly drops from Twitch's face as soon as she sees you pulling away from her, her little servos grasping the air, once where you were standing. That look you gave her somehow reminded her of her own mother.

Dot would come back after a long day of work, welcomed by the whole family, and despite how tired and overworked she was, she never dared to let them know about it. Muscles tense, aching and begging for rest, and constant headache from dealing with some people seem to never leave her alone. And yet, she still kept her smile. Still has the strength to use that sweet voice of hers every time she speaks to the young Maltos.

Even then...why did you look with nothing but hatred and disgust towards Megatron?

The quiet shut of the door left only Megatron and Twitch standing in the room. The little one slowly stepped down on the ground, blinking a few times in confusion. She still couldn't take her gaze away from the door, as if hoping that you might come back and join them after all.

“What...what did I do wrong?” she asks quietly, the question hanging in the air.

Megatron clenched his teeth, trying to suppress his own anger— no, he had no right to be angry. That was the truth after all, isn't it? None of the terrans knew what actually happened before, when he was the leader of the Decepticons, the infamous warlord responsible for the deaths of thousands, if not much more, innocent lives.

He deserves to feel that pain; the cold truth will always hurt, no matter how much he tries to numb the harsh, stabbing feeling inside his spark. Hearing it from you, for some reason, always felt the worst.

Slowly, he lowers himself to one knee, looking down at Twitch, as if silently trying to apologize, for what had happened. No one was supposed to be involved in this conflict.

“Don't trouble your mind with these thoughts, little bird,” Megatron gently lifts her chin with a single digit, making the young terran look up at him. “I promise to come back to you as soon as I can.”

If only he had told you the same before and reassured you with the same care he held deep for his mentee.

It was so confusing. Watching every single day, how soft and attentive the ex-warlord can be for a sparkling that were not even his, and yet, abandoning his family for his own cruel ambitions.

Standing outside the autobots' base, you at least had some bits of privacy that was left up to you. No one to judge, no one to stare with these sorry optics, with nothing but pity in them.

Primus seems to be especially disappointed with you today, taking away the only peace and quiet you had for today.

“You can hate and despise me however you want, I would never have held it against you,” the familiar, deep voice is quick to disturb your thoughts, but this time, somehow softer.

Megatron takes a few slow steps, stopping right behind you, but not daring to come any closer. He would be grateful if you even stayed to listen to him without running out the first second you spot him in your proximity.

There is a brief pause between the two of you, followed by nothing but your sinister silence. Not even a single drop of respect for him, as you didn't even look back at your ex-conjunx.

“But please,” the word sounds so foreign coming from him; for a moment, you even amuse yourself thinking he really changed. “Don't take it out on them.”

You feel your right optic twitch at that.

“Is that the only thing you wanted to talk with me about?” you finally speak, turning to face the silver mech who stood tall next to you. “And you have the audacity of asking something from me?”

Such hypocrisy. It doesn't help you feel any better at all once you notice those guilty red optics staring at you, as if reminding you of how small you will look to others, no matter how hard you try to hide behind a mask.

Like you ever needed their pity for you.

The silver mech studies your face. Tired, war-worn, so exhausted, just like his own. You're barely holding back from collapsing from all the responsibilities on your shoulders, both as the ‘autobot’ and the carrier first. He should have never left you alone, but that would be pointless to think about now.

“I won't...try to defend my past mistakes, and I know that there is nothing I can do to erase all the pain I caused to you and to our sparkling,” optics lowered to the ground, expression hardening, trying to gather his own thoughts, before meeting your gaze once again.

“All I want is to let you see how I have changed,” Megatron steps closed, hesitantly, he continues. “Would you give me a chance to make things right for you, my dear?”

A silence.

Megatron feels a flicker of hope in his spark. Lips curled into a small frown, trying to hide his own uncertainty. Cycles before, back in the past, when the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons hadn't struck the Earth, he would have snapped back. He reminded you of your own place underneath him, so you would never even have a single thought of defying him.

But he would never hurt you again, never raise his voice at you— just let him keep you safe from the remnants of the war he once caused; he promises you that. If only you let him show you that.

But then you step back.

“Starscream was right about you,” your voice now, filled with nothing but coldness. “You will always be the same tyrant who once betrayed those who trusted you with their own spark.”

[chowadoe]

so more on that role reversal au...

Shadow (created as a Weapon Against Humanity) who was eventually raised, and exploited, by G.U.N to become Humanity's Ultimate weapon and Sonic, found by Robotnik

some more expanded thoughts below ^_^

SHADOW - G.U.N AGENT

Shadow was initially created with the intention of being a Weapon Against Humanity. after a life-altering incident, G.U.N. takes Shadow into their custody, raising him to become one of their top agents, exploiting him.

he's constantly under government surveillance... inhibitor rings (developed by G.U.N.) are clamped onto him like a shock collar so he is unable to tap into his full power. (Shadow has neither tested nor does he know the extent of his strength.. he has never tried removing them. G.U.N. is the only one who can remove them.)

the hypocritical method in wanting their weapon (cough trained dog) to exercise and develop restraint on his own terms, and yet forcefully acclimating him.

Shadow’s aware of his past. Definitely struggles with Existential dread about why he’s on Earth and what he was made for. he wants to (and feels like he should) do good, but if he was initially made with destructive intent… is he compensating this way? is this what he really wants? no.. he shouldn't think like that.. Maria would want him to be good..

If not to make the world the better a place, if they still treat his kind as inferior and sometimes, even a threat to the whole human race, does humanity and this planet still deserve its rite for redemption? What is humanity? Is that something he’s capable of, as a weapon of mass destruction?

what is he trying to prove here? His docility? His ability to be obedient and be, by human standards, good? what does that mean in a world that may never accept them, and much less him- a synthetic and all-unnatural organism forged from humanity’s worst and an alien race only capable of Evil and wrongdoing. a being so perfectly suited for any and all forms of persecution. Humankind’s scapegoat. He thinks about Maria.

Maria remains a guiding light. Back then, she would sneak Shadow out to gaze upon the Earth, her former home. She misses it, the lush greenery, the sun, the people. she hopes that Shadow will get to experience what it’s like.

au shadow is emo edgy in a sad wet adult 40yo cat leon kennedy kind of way. au sonic is emo edgy like a 14yo that found out you could buy a tattoo gun on amazon without a license. I know nothing about resident evil

when he's not on a mission, he's usually in his "room" (extremely generous word for containment chamber/training facility.) he's like a hamster in a cage with toys to play with . (treadmills. race tracks. dummy robots. Ak-47s.) He's allowed to freely roam HQ from hours 6am-10pm, and if not, he is usually escorted by a guard, unless its Rouge sneaking him out. But beyond that, it's not like the ultimate lifeform needs that much sleep, and it'd be bad to have their ultimate weapon roaming the halls without supervision. but let's say there's the occasional nocturnal scavenger providing him a bit of nightly mischief that even the most complicated most difficult to navigate ventilation system cannot keep a natural-born burrower out..... (haha)

SONIC - ACCOMPLICE

Robotnik’s “accomplice” (adoptive son?)

Sonic goes along with Robotnik’s schemes but has his own ulterior motives .. after all, working under someone is still infringing on his sense of freedom, independence, and pride.

He only rlly helps out Robotnik out if it helps him… robotnik makes some new tech that tickles his , esp if smth that happens to enhance his existing abilities. sure he’s more than capable of doing things on his own but what’s better than to play with his new toys with his already existing toys (GUN. shadow.)

and if he manages to break them in a day then he’s found an issue that robotnik needs to troubleshoot immediately. eggman should really be Thanking him!

his only known goal atm is to find things that stave off his boredom. from what Shadow's gathered at least. but maybe there's more...

has a very bad No Good Fixation on shadow's inhibitor rings for whatever reason. wonder that could mean.

Still fucking around with roles and nothing's rlly set in stone. Im just kind of giggling kicking rocks and throwing pebbles in the water to see what lands ^q^

Rouge is still there! A contractor for G.U.N. A Recovering/reformed Jewel thief who joins the task force (maybe?) 

the gang is also there! still brainstorming roles though. emrmmm

[cannofsardines]

: 1x4/Azure/GN! READER who does self harm

CW : SELF HARM . READER DOES SELF HARM, oneshot is more focused on their pain and regret rather than romance.. eheh..

You looked down on your red stained hands, it was warm. warmer than it was, warm when it shouldn't be. Your clothing wasn’t even thick enough to warm your whole entire body yet the hot temperature could be felt on your hands

But with it carried an uncomfortable feel that made you remember what you would previously used as an escape back when you were alive. Though the memory was faint, it was hard to entirely forget. This time, the liquid— which you would recognize as blood, didn't gush out of your wrist. No.

You shakily raised a hand on your head, your fingers poked at the soft flesh. Ah, so that's where the blood was coming from. It's been awhile since you've opted to banging your head on a concrete wall or do something that left you bruised and bloodied overall and from the way your body reacted to the nostalgic pain, you could tell your pain tolerance had definitely spiked down. In your frustration, you let your hands drop to the side but accidentally scratch over wounds that were healing

You tried your best to recall how you got back in this position when you've done so much just to stay clean for so long, yet the harder you tried, the more your head hurt and the more you felt like you were about to explode. You felt around your wrist and you guessed it, your fingers made contact with something soft. ..Muscles? You couldn't guess but you immediately pulled your finger away, the unforgiving harsh icy cold only irritated your scar

Your vision blurred and you felt something warm and wet glide down on your cheeks, you were crying. Was it out of pain or was it because of the fact that you've just relapsed after months of desperately trying to rid yourself of this habit? Who knows, you couldn't exactly pinpoint but it isn't necessary when you were out in the open bleeding

You eventually collapsed on the ground, and did you finally remember what got you in this position you were in right now. Disappointment, and frustration. The two emotions you couldn't contain or handle even at the face of death. You were left disappointed because you've been nothing but dead weight to your team, always dying every single round and always having to bear witness to the survivors death because you didn't have any courage to try and stun the killer when they needed your help the most.

Frustration, because you didn't know how to deal with.. All of this. You couldn't use drinking as an alternative because the specter couldn't spare you even mercy to give it to you as an ability similar to Noob’s, even though you were sure that should've counted to be something major to your character.

While you blankly stared at the far distance, two figures emerged from the dark followed by the reminder that it was a double trouble round. Double trouble round with two of your lovers as the killers. Lovely. How could you forget? Eventually you could no longer ponder as you drifted off to a heavy sleep you've always sought out

Azure’s appendages inspected your body thoroughly, specifically your head and arms. The sight took him and 1x in a shocked state, that even the Specter was left shocked and amused at the sight. 1x used the ruined cloth he had as an accessory to bandage the scars you inflicted on your arms

From the way they managed to tend to your scars with ease and precision, Azure couldn't help but wonder if 1x had gone through this at least once. Embodying hatred itself, the former imagined 1x to at least be more rough with the way she was treating you. No shade to you and Azure’s other partner obviously, yet could you really blame them when all they've seen and heard from 1x was something akin to rough and harsh?

.

.

.

I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE OG ASK BUT IT WAS ANON ASKING FOR A ANGST ONESHOT OF 1X/AZURE/READER WHO DOES SELF HARM

if you noticed the lack of comfort or romance here it's because it's an angst oneshot and I didn't want to mischaracterize them bad huhu..

[piistaciio]

The “Home Care Attendant” ™️ DCA AU

(all subject to change as i expand on this au)

Fazbear gets into some legal trouble that nearly puts them out of business, forcing them to lie low for a while and shut the plex's doors to visitors while things are sorted.

In an attempt not to lose money, Fazbear had the idea to use their daycare attendant as a ‘home care’ attendant. Considering it was already reprogrammed once to look after small children, Fazbear thought, 'Why not?' A caregiver wasn't that much farther off, right? :)

Rebranded as the "Home Care Attendant"(™️)

…

Takes place after Security Breach, Gregory does not mutilate the other animatronics to be able to escape the plex/stay safe until morning.

This AU uses the idea of Vanny being the one to infect Moon with a virus that makes him hostile in the night. 

But as Fazbear lies low, Moon finds he’s.. in control of himself again? And it stays that way as they are reprogrammed and fitted for their new job. 

Sun and Moon got to coexist with each other without fear, catch up, and grow close again in the couple of weeks it took for Fazbear to get them all sorted.

…

Cut to one of Cio’s (my insert/sona) online friends seeing this ad for an in-home caregiver robot, ‘for any age!’

They know their friend has been struggling lately, even though she doesn't think so.

So one day there's a knock on Cio's front door and there's a truck unloading this giant ass box???

She tries to make her friend take it back cause ‘omg wtf how expensive was this???’ 

Friend said too bad, the company they bought it from was adamant about no refunds, and they didn't need an in-home robot caregiver.

“If you rly don't need it, just resell it.”

…

Cio eventually accepts, at the end of the day, when is she ever going to be able to see a robot in person ever again, let alone own one? In this economy???

Especially as a former retail worker on unemployment, using art as a secondary income.

Has to sign a thick pamphlet of liability forms to be able to use it.

Cio skims and signs (we all hate reading terms, but girlie pls)

Comes with a concerningly thinner user guide, as if it was hastily put together or written with the bare minimum legal content needed to ‘sell’ the DCA to the public and generate extra money for Fazbear.

As well as only a singular, fine print, Fazbear branding in an inconspicuous spot on their packaging.

Shit feels sketchy but there are also no refunds/returns.

“The HCA comes fully charged and ready to help you in your day-to-day life!”

That was a damn lie.

…

[Mini drabble for their beginnings below]

Cio squinting at the vague ass instructions of this, intimidatingly larger than she thought, robot is sat in the middle of her living room floor.

“So I just…” squints at the pages, “Wait, why do I have to plug it in if it's supposed to be charged?? Ugh, this is feeling more and more scammy by the second..” 

She looks closely at the robot again, its blank sun and moon-themed face and well-built body.

“But it is like an actual fully made robot or- whatever, so maybe not?” Shrugs as she opens the back panel and connects its cord to the extension cord she had plugged into the wall to be able to reach it.

Lights flicker but don't quite trip the breaker

“Oooo boy.. you take a lot of power. I better go unplug some stuff;;”

Comes back and looks the bot over, wondering and checking with the bare minimum instructions on how long this “fully charged” robot was going to take to turn on.

“Bro.. They shouldn't have even included these instructions if they were gonna be this vague about them-” eyes widen as she reads down, “ ‘charging can take anywhere between 5 and 15 hours???’ Ughhhh…”

Cio sighs, looking around, then looking at the bot, “You better be worth it,” she huffed, booping its flat nose.

…

It takes halfway into the night for Sun and Moon to be fully charged. And by that time, in the dark/very dim ‘candlelight’, it's Moon who comes out first, Sun's rays tucking in and his hat popping out.

They hadn't been turned on since Fazbear tweaked them to be what they are now. Why waste the power of a currently closed plex on charging animatronics waiting to be bought?

Moon groaned, body's joints stiff from lack of motion for who knows how long, Fazbear left them uncharged.

[[🌙: Ugh.. Sunny..? ☀️: I'm here.. are we.. 🌙: Yeah.. I think so.. Oh- huh ☀️: what?? What is it?? 🌙: I think I just met our charge. ☀️: Really?? Oh I wanna meet them too!! Do they look nice?? 🌙: That'll have to wait, they're asleep ☀️: Asleep?? Aww…]]

Moon looks down at the sleeping form on the floor in front of him. Hair tousled, cheek smeared with graphite from their sketchbook, as they breathed quietly.

Moon huffed. 

They had no knowledge about the person in front of them or what they were like, but it wasn't in his programming to leave someone uncomfortable as they slept.

He unplugged himself from the extension cord and closed their panel. His metal strained as he stretched, flexing his fingers and such before gently and carefully picking up the short human, taking care not to disturb them.

In such a small home, it didn't take him long to find their bedroom. If he had a working nose it would have wrinkled at the messy state of the room.

[[🌙: it's a good thing you're aren't out right now, Sunny ☀️: what, why?? 🌙: messy.. ☀️: Mmmmm- 😣]]

Moon snickers quietly as he lays the human down in their bed, covering them with their blanket. Cio shifts a bit to get comfortable but doesn't stir beyond that.

On a full charge, Moon takes the time to poke around the home, while getting scolded by Sun about privacy and such.

And after tidying a little bit, takes a seat on the bay window in their new charge’s room, looking up at the night sky. A bit in awe, they'd never really gotten a good look at the outside, having been in the 'Plex their entire lives.

...

Unsure if I will make an actual fic about this AU, but this is the world any art of my sona and the boys will be based in!

Thank you for giving it a read! ♥

And feel free to hop into my asks with any questions you may have!

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Commander Wolffe x Jedi Reader

The hangar ramp hissed open, and your boots hit the deck like you owned it. Technically, you didn't—but you were Plo Koon's former Padawan, still carrying his signature balance of unshakable calm and cutting sarcasm.

You tugged your hood down and grinned as you spotted two familiar figures on the bridge: Plo Koon, standing with serene patience, and Commander Wolffe beside him, looking like someone had just asked him to smile. Again.

"Master," you greeted with a playful bow. "Commander."

Without turning, Plo said, "You're late... again."

You smirked. "As long as I'm not late to my own funeral. You must know by now I consider this punctual."

Wolffe crossed his arms. "With your timing? It's a miracle you've not already had one."

You gave him a slow once-over. "Still charming as ever, I see. The scowl really brings out the war-torn veteran vibes. Very scarred and emotionally unavailable of you."

Wolffe didn't even flinch. "And you're still running your mouth like we've got time for it."

Before you could reply, Boost and Sinker passed behind him, lugging crates and throwing looks.

"Someone's in love," Boost sang under his breath.

"Poor Commander," Sinker added, "didn't stand a chance."

Wolffe didn't even turn around. "I can still reassign both of you to sewage detail."

You held back a laugh—barely.

"Are all your men like this now?" you asked your old Master.

Plo Koon gave a low hum. "Sassy. Grumpy. Aggressively loyal."

"So you picked them to remind you of me."

"I missed you," he said without missing a beat.

Your heart actually squeezed at that, but you covered it with, "Well, I hope you're ready, because if Commander Growl here is leading the op, I might die from sarcasm before I die from blaster fire."

Wolffe raised an eyebrow. "I don't babysit Jedi."

You stepped closer. "Good. I don't need a babysitter. I need someone who won't cry when I outrank him in sass."

He stared at you, deadpan. "You won't."

You stared back. "You sure?"

Pause.

"Unfortunately."

Plo Koon interrupted before one of you ended up biting the other. "We deploy in two hours. I expect both of you to survive long enough to get along."

You and Wolffe answered at the same time.

"No promises."

---

The landing zone was chaos.

Blaster fire lit the sky, droids rained from drop ships, and the ground was already smoking. You and Wolffe hit dirt side by side, crouched behind the smoldering wreckage of what used to be a tactical transport.

"Well," you said, deflecting a bolt with your saber, "this is cozy."

"You call this cozy?" Wolffe growled, firing a shot so clean it sent a super battle droid straight to the scrap heap.

You smirked. "I've had worse first dates."

He didn't look at you, just reloaded. "You're bleeding."

You glanced at your shoulder. Blaster graze. "A little paint off the speeder. I'm fine."

"You should patch it."

"Are you worried about me, Commander?"

"No. I just don't want to carry your dramatic ass off the battlefield."

"You mean you can't carry me."

"Try me."

Before you could sass him again, Boost's voice crackled through comms.

"Commanderrr, she's making that face again."

"You mean the one that says 'I flirt by mocking your trauma'?"

Sinker's voice joined in, deadpan: > "So... her default face."

"Copy that, shutting off comms now," Wolffe said dryly—and actually turned his comm off.

"Coward," you muttered, slashing through another droid.

But underneath all the banter, you were moving in sync. You ducked when he fired. He stepped when you struck. Like muscle memory. Like old training and shared violence. Like maybe, somehow, this shouldn't feel so... natural.

_ _ _

The op was a win. Barely.

You were bruised, bleeding, and parked on a cold medbay cot with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder. Wolffe was sitting across from you, helmet off, that glorious scar catching the sterile light.

You stared at it. Again.

"I can feel you looking at it," he grumbled, arms crossed.

"Can't help it. It's criminally hot."

He blinked. "It's a war wound."

"Exactly."

He shook his head. "You're weird."

"You're pretty," you shot back—mostly to see him flinch.

And oh, he flinched. Glared like you'd punched him in the stomach.

"I—what—don't—" he sputtered. "You can't just say things like that."

"You mean compliments?"

He looked genuinely appalled. "You take one like it's a threat!"

"Because they usually are! Last guy who called me beautiful tried to shoot me two hours later."

Wolffe rubbed his face. "We are so emotionally damaged."

You grinned. "You like it."

He muttered something about Jedi being a menace, and you stepped closer. Right into his space. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw—and the way he didn't move away.

"Wolffe," you said quietly. "You're allowed to like me. Even if I'm mouthy. Even if I scare you a little."

"You don't scare me."

You leaned in.

"Good."

Then you kissed him. And stars, he kissed you back.

It wasn't sweet. It wasn't gentle. It was the kind of kiss you gave a person when you both knew tomorrow might not come. Hard, real, desperate in that quiet, aching way soldiers kiss—the kind that says I know we're doomed, but just for tonight, pretend we're not.

When you finally pulled back, he was breathing a little heavier.

"...You're exhausting," he whispered.

"You love it."

"...Unfortunately."

From the next room, Boost called, "If you're done making out, the rest of us are bleeding."

Sinker added, "Bleeding and emotionally neglected."

Wolffe let his head thunk against your shoulder.

You just smiled. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Maker help me," he muttered.

But he didn't say no.