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jaeminvore · 2 years ago

Text

BLUR. | N.JM (M)

SYNOPSIS: Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing. Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell.

CONTENT WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dub-con, Jaemin’s a freak and a little fucked in the head, afab!reader, (ex)boyfriend’s best friend, sex under the influence of alcohol, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), sex-tapes, nudes (but make it artsy), face/throat-fucking, dirty-talk, mild possessiveness, mild obsession, smidge of fluff surprisingly, voyeurism and exhibitionism (kinda?), open-ended.

WORD COUNT: 7.5K

note: first of all, happy birthday to one of my favorite leos, Jaemin 💖 idk how many times i’ve looped the song but i think it was enough for me to come up with a fic inspired by it 💀 originally, this was supposed to be posted sooner but hey! Better late than never! Heed the warnings i beg if you don’t like the sound of this then please, you are absolutely free to click off! Other than that, please enjoy the filth ~

“You’re every single thing that I deserve. Maybe that’s too boring. ‘Cause I might say some thing you’ve never heard. Like I did last night, what a blur.” — Blur by Lolo Zouaï

You: hyuck You: oh my fucking god HYUCK You: WAKE UP

haechan: ugh woman WHA T

You: HELP

haechan: ?? are you dying haechan: wait where did you even go last night? haechan: i didnt see u anywhere after like haechan: well i dont remember

You: home

haechan: . haechan: ok how tf am i gonna help with that

You: but its not MY home You: and im pretty sure i slept with whoever took me here

haechan: 😟 haechan: i’ll be at ur place

“Jesus—the guy try to eat you or something?��

You winced, covering the marks left by whoever fucking psycho thought they were a vampire.

Seriously, was all that really necessary? Leaving obvious bite marks and bruises to the point it looked like an animal attempted to maul you beyond recognition? Anyone with a functioning brain would obviously veto that idea in a heartbeat. Anyone with a modicum of chivalry could have stopped themselves from making your neck look like it did.

You were a contributing member to society and the thought of facing endless questions about your otherwise wild night out, at work of all places, was mortifying enough as it is. You had places to be. You had people to meet.

One of those ‘people you had to meet’ happened to be Donghyuck. A constant presence in your day-to-day life and was essentially your best friend. Your ride or die. There should be some bias for one another when it comes to this friendship built from finding each other in bathrooms of college parties with either one’s head stuck in the toilet bowl.

You’ve literally seen each other at your worst, but Donghyuck was a Gemini first through and through. You weren’t one to succumb to the belief of stereotypes, yet Donghyuck proudly wore being two-faced like a badge of honor. He was your best friend, but he was also your worst enemy and never would he miss the opportunity in making you squirm underneath the palpable judgment swimming side-by-side with the curiosity alight in his eyes.

“Does it look that bad?” you asked quietly, just as curious, but leaning more towards your own reassurance.

The loud, grating laughter he let spill past his lips was enough to tell you that, yeah, it’s pretty gnarly and the likelihood of you getting some weird looks was at a moderate high.

“All I’m saying is—” he said then cleared his throat, “—is you’re gonna have to like, use half a tube of your best concealer.” he jeered, taking his time to assess the damage with an amused twitch of his lips before picking up the remote.

Case in point.

Although Donghyuck spoke the truth and nothing but the truth, that didn’t stop you from flicking his ear in retaliation as the last thing you wanted to ruin your mood was Donghyuck’s super helpful (read: useless) input. As if he was any better. You couldn’t count the number of times he found himself in ‘sticky’ situations that even the most promiscuous of people would cover their mouths, scandalized at the many many recounts of (questionable) conquests of getting his dick wet as many times as he could.

(That’s not to say you were completely innocent. Your sexual appetite was at a healthy mid to high. Donghyuck was just shameless. You, on the other hand, were not).

The wounded noise from Donghyuck went ignored as you stood up, stretched your arms up high and headed to the kitchen to get something into your empty stomach.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face and hungover was one thing.

Waking up to the sunlight blazing onto your face, hungover and in a bed that wasn’t your own in nothing but a pair of sweatpants that were obviously not yours, was another and a punishment specifically made for you—your own personal hell. A thing to note was the sweatpants were from a brand that you haven’t even heard of. Ever. Either this guy’s a fashion snob, or he’s filthy fucking rich, though something in you persisted that he was probably the latter.

No. Scratch that. It’s a hundred percent the latter.

You’ve been here before. Sober during those very few times, to be frank, and you desperately wished that you didn’t know who lived in this pretentiously decorated bachelor’s pad.

You thought waking up in a stranger’s bed was bad? Try waking up in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s bed with no recollection of what happened last night. Trying to remember was proven useless when the memories were all but blurry, flashing images you couldn’t for the life of you sharpen with the power of your mind—that was still recovering from the hangover—alone.

It really wasn’t the best morning. It was arguably one of the worst.

Seeing one of his cats perched on top of the highest point of the cat tower in the far corner of the bedroom was already a bad omen in and of itself, slanted eyes locked on your every move and she (you had a faint idea that this was one of his girls) even followed you to the bathroom! Which, okay, wasn’t that awful considering she hadn’t meowed or hissed at you in warning (yet).

All the cat did was hop onto the marble counter of Jaemin’s bathroom, sat back primly and watched you get rid of the accumulated grime on your face before going crazy with the array of skincare the man had out in the open. It was really his fault for leaving you unattended.

Speaking of Jaemin, he was nowhere to be found.

There were no signs of him even as you padded into the wide expanse of the living area. No signs of life in the kitchen either aside from the two other cats Jaemin had in his care and strangely enough, they too didn’t seem to be alarmed by your presence. You’ve only been here a few times with your then boyfriend, Jeno. Played with them a little too. Maybe the cats had sharper memories than you gave them credit for.

All of that aside, Jaemin’s absence was a huge relief on your part. Being drunk five margaritas in around him was embarrassing though still salvageable by a brief but genuine apology. Conversing with him was rare, sure, but the few conversations with him were adequate for you to lump him with one of the good ones.

Yet.

This—being in your ex-boyfriend’s best friend’s fucking apartment of all places—felt like there was more to what you initially thought could have happened that made you stay the night.

It’s been so long since you’ve last seen your ex, much less Jaemin, as he wasn’t exactly one to go out as often, but your alcohol-addled brain had momentarily lost its grasp on the supposed built-in survival instinct that you let yourself get whisked away by him.

Possibly let him have his way with you (in your drunken haze) as you thought back to the mild soreness in between your legs.

Whatever the possibilities were, you had no luxury to narrow them down right now. Not when you had bigger problems.

You had to get out of here. Fast.

“Holy shit.”

Was what you heard the very second the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich you planned on sharing was placed on the plate.

At first, you didn’t think much of Donghyuck’s exclamation. Dramatics were his thing and you were used to being subjected to them so often that you barely blinked when Donghyuck followed it up with a sharp gasp. You were just about to write it off as ‘none of your business’—unlike Donghyuck who made sure to make his business everyone else’s—when what he said next made you pause.

“Y/N, you have got to see this.”

Now adding you to the mix got your attention. Picking up the urgent yet intrigued intonation from Donghyuck’s demand was enough to put brunch on the back burner as you rushed back to the small living area. The TV was put on mute. It was the first detail you noticed before pinning your gaze onto your best friend still on the couch and you immediately knew something was wrong with the way his shoulders almost touched his ears from sitting too stiffly.

Donghyuck had your phone in his hand when you sat down beside him which wasn't exactly new to you. He somehow figured out your pass-code (“it was your birth date,” Donghyuck clarified. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. What do you have against Face ID anyway?”) and you couldn’t find the energy to change it. It wasn't like you had anything to hide. You lived a pretty uneventful life, completely juxtaposing with whatever he had going on at his end, so you didn’t really mind the nosiness.

One look at his face, however, made you reconsider the leniency towards your privacy.

Donghyuck had this innate talent of pissing off people by his many facial expressions alone. He looked like the cat that ate the canary; probably planning on swallowing it down with cream to egg you on further and you just know whatever he had to say—or show in this case—was bound to raise your blood pressure to new heights.

“What,” it was meant to be a question, and the annoyance that managed to creep into the mono-syllable was amusing enough to Donghyuck that the annoying grin grew into almost splitting his face in half.

You rolled your eyes so hard that you wondered why you weren’t stuck staring at your brain from how often you did this at his expense. “Seriously, what?”

Donghyuck silently handed your phone over, still looking like the devil’s incarnate that it was almost an eerie resemblance, yet you still humored him.

You soon found that there was no humor in this situation.

All the budding annoyance had come to a screeching halt the moment your phone found its rightful home in your grasp.

From your abysmal screen-time, you should be used to its lightness, yet the device felt heavier than it should. It was like having the weight of the world in your palms and what’s worse, you could feel your blood running cold in real time as you peered down at the small screen leering right back at you, taunting you.

What greeted you was the opened camera roll that somehow accumulated pictures upon pictures of you stripped down to your most promiscuous state of undress. The sight was daunting to say the least that some crazed part of you thought your phone had become sentient; goading you with each flick of your thumb to scroll through them, further stripping you of your modesty. As if it was a digital flip book of yourself, illustrating you and one of you rare conquests of hunting down warm body to fuck around with.

The sheer amount of them was almost laughable, just imagining the person on the other side of the lens doing their absolute damnedest in making sure no small detail was out of place; that you came out debauched, yet still gorgeous enough to overlook the depravity of their nature.

You weren’t sure if this could be compared to nudes. Not when there were some traces of artistry behind each photo that if you were less than sane, you would have your thanks at the ready for making the vision—whatever it was—come alive with an iPhone camera.

There was a joke begging to be voiced out somewhere. A joke your best friend would immensely appreciate knowing it was centered around you and your bad decisions, however, that thought was quickly forgotten when something else caught your eye.

A video. Videos, you’ve come to find out as you scrolled further. Almost never ending with the amount that it was overwhelming compared to that of the photos lacking depth and movement.

The state of the thumbnails didn’t help ease the heavy feeling in your gut either.

Each and every single one of them could very well belong on the number of porn platforms you were vaguely aware of. They left nothing to the imagination where you could just tell what obscenities you—namely drunk you—were up to despite having no recollection of this ever happening. Just how much alcohol did you let in your system that you blacked out the entire night? This was one of the many mysteries that will continue to haunt you unless you get some clarity soon.

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t the least bit curious of your own drunken thought process (you were still processing what you were seeing, actually) and it was obvious your best friend was just as curious, impatiently so that he snatched your phone back, chose one form the myriad of video clips and pressed play, all under a second or two.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Donghyuck earned an elbow to his side for his haste, but all he did was shush you and moved the phone closer for a better view. As if an almost seven-inch screen could grant a cinematic experience, but you’ll take what you could get.

“There you go.”

And there you go, body locking up the moment the awfully familiar, deep and roughened voice came out of the phone’s speakers.

A simple sentence spoken with a cadence so sluggish that you had to fight hard to remind yourself that he didn’t always sound like he was forcing you to unravel with his words alone. Jaemin just had this peculiar habit of putting half the effort into enunciating his words almost to the point where he sounded lazy and you assumed it was the alcohol that made this habit of his more pronounced than ever.

The alcohol turned him into someone, hell, some otherworldly being that the more you heard him speak, the likelihood of a blood vessel popping due to how wound up you’ve progressively become was at a high. It was downright ridiculous how instantaneous the effect was, and what followed would soon have you internally begging to be smite by God himself.

“It took you three tries to swallow me down without gagging.” Though you couldn’t see him, there was, no doubt, a smile on his face, listening to his delivery alone. All sharp and condescending that you couldn’t help but wince at the immediate reboot of your brain where you could vividly imagine the scrape of his teeth along your throat—specifically the places bruised with the indents; marks of his canines being the most prominent.

At least you got to confirm just who the ‘wild animal’ was behind the damage to your neck, yet you still couldn’t map the exact thought process justifying Jaemin’s carelessness.

“You’re that eager to please, aren’t you?”

Jaemin sounded like he was demanding an immediate answer, but there was just one problem.

He wasn’t going to get anything from you. How can he when his cock restricted you from talking? The most he was going to get was a series of garbled noises, just like the wet squelches from fucking into your mouth.

“Of course you are. I can see why Jeno kept you around for as long as he could.” Jaemin chuckled, moving his hand from where it previously rested on top of your head to cup your jaw. “Feeling full, huh?” and you could hear how smug he was, laughing quietly when all you could do was whine when his fingers tightened their grip on your bulging cheeks, no doubt wanting the wet heat of your mouth to squeeze around his dick tighter, or feel how imposing his size was for the sake of his ego.

“I could barely fit in your mouth a moment ago,” the groan he let out was deep from within his chest, guttural as if he was fighting to keep himself controlled while bullying himself deeper into your willing (?) throat until you gagged around his girth, shaky hands scrambling to find purchase on his thighs as if to keep yourself grounded. “Now here you are, taking it like it’s nothing. Like you were made for this. All you needed was a little push, didn’t you, baby?”

It took real talent to come off as an asshole through voice alone, and Jaemin was nothing short of talented. He really did fit the narrative. It’s always the ones with the (admittedly) pretty faces that have something to hide under the false pretense of pleasantry, and it just so happened that the ‘thing’ Jaemin wanted to keep under wraps was how much of a scheming freak he actually was.

Back then, you were just part of the majority who was ignorant to what lies underneath. Now here you are, experiencing Jaemin’s depraved fantasies first hand.

You should have known. The signs were quite literally there with the way he looked at you all night before you were consumed by the effects of alcohol. Even in the sea of people crowding the club, you‘ve managed to catch the intensity swirling in the darkness of his eyes stuck on you no matter where you ended up.

Jaemin was there. In the corners. In the shadows. Jaemin was everywhere. Watching and waiting to strike.

That thought alone should have been enough to unsettle you right to your very core, yet all it did was raise questions. Tons of them, considering this had been going on before you even got together with your then boyfriend, Jeno. You had thought that perhaps Jaemin had harbored some type of protectiveness over you seeing you got to know him first, but your prior naivety didn’t let you think much on it further. Not when you were swept up by the sweeter than sweet smiles and soon entranced by a pair of eyes that put the winking moon to shame.

Nevertheless Jaemin still kept a watchful eye, bid his time carefully and now that his best friend was out of the picture, perhaps it was the perfect time to strike.

And that he did, leaving the photos and videos behind in his wake.

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck hissed, completely ignoring the obscene noises blasting from your phone on full volume because apparently he wasn’t immersed enough with it half-way up. Where your apartment provided decent acoustics to amplify the sound. “Jaemin Na? Your ex's best friend? That Jaemin?”

You held your face in shame and groaned, trying to make it seem like you weren’t the least bit affected by Jaemin’s own mix of pleasured sounds going hand-in-hand with your muffled desperation. “Say ‘Jaemin’ one more time and I’ll punch you in the throat.” Your face was hot to the touch and you didn’t want to know just what you looked like to Donghyuck.

The memory of last night was faint, yes, but it did overwhelm you all the same to the point where you were starting to tear up from sheer embarrassment.

Donghyuck, ever so keen, caught the sign of distress and composed himself. “You were with Jaemin last night?” He asked, whispering.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you answered, sarcasm weighing heavily on each syllable as you aimed your grimace towards the video still playing (seriously, how long was it?). “Is that just my face deep-faked onto some poor random girl? You tell me.”

His pleased expression twisted at the snark, lips parting to refute you with the same vitriol until a rather loud, impossibly hard to ignore moan tore through the impending tension.

Both of you looked down just in time for Jaemin to pull out of your abused mouth with a wet, disgusting sound and lord, not only did he have an impressive size, his dick was pretty too. Pretty in a way it shouldn’t be, but it’s like Jaemin was solely born to go against what one should expect in men and their anatomy, which wasn’t much to begin with, let’s be real. Guess the universe did have its favorites and what misfortune it was that it had to be you stuck with one of them. Literally.

It was like a sick punishment pushed onto you, being faced with the harsh truth of Jaemin having his reasons backed up and giving him free reign to act and talk like he was the shit. His hands were just as big as everything about him from his stature to his personality. Made it seem like his cock was nothing to gawk at until you—you in the video—shuffled closer, having it stand ramrod straight right in front of your face.

As if the Jaemin in the video heard you, he laughed as he brought the camera closer to his cock and your face in tandem. You could tell he was getting close, the labored breaths and jostling of the footage were obvious signs amidst the borderline frantic strokes.

“Open up, sweetheart,” he grunted, tapping your puffy lips with his cockhead. “and stick your tongue out for me, will you—yeah. That’s good. Perfect. You’re perfect—fuck!”

Thick ropes of pearly white painted your face as Jaemin let out a loud, drawn-out moan, forcing more out with rough strokes and most of it shooting into your awaiting mouth. You kept your eyes open for the entirety of it in spite of the obscene amount of cum dripping from your cheeks, nose and even an eyebrow. In fact, there was so much of it that even Donghyuck voiced his own astonishment right when you swallowed, only to pry your lips open once more and leave Jaemin to milk himself until the very last drop, not letting any of it go to waste.

It seemed you did good with the forethought, Jaemin making his appreciation known with a soft coo as if he wasn’t spouting filth while you were literally gagging for it.

God, you looked absolutely destroyed.

And eerily enough, sex-tape!Jaemin finished off the thought with a breathy, “you’ve never looked better.”

Inky tear-tracks of your mascara marred what was once the smoothed canvas of your face. You took much care in making sure your makeup was almost flawless and it was a shame that Jaemin thought the complete opposite and decided that smearing your lipstick along your mouth with a gross mix of your spit, tears and his cum was much more entertaining—as if this was all just a sick game to him; a game of how long would it take to strip you off of your dignity by making a mess out of you. Twice.

“Fuck. You look…” Jaemin trailed off as he held you by the jaw, damp skin easily caving underneath his fingertips to keep you in place and took his time to admire his masterpiece. It was deceptively tender, the way he went about tilting your head from side-to-side that just as you thought this was where the humiliation ended, realizing the extent of what you had done last night, the debauched version of you decided to speak.

“How—how do I look?” You slurred. Round, glazed up eyes peering up in earnest and that was all it took for Jaemin to let your phone tumble from his grasp in favor of hauling you up. The footage was all sorts of skewed, but by some odd law of physics involved, it made sure to show how Jaemin went in for a kiss that was all sorts of messy and heated, not minding the fact that he could taste himself with every push of your tongue against his.

He pulled back just for a moment, letting out a breathy chuckle and the last thing you heard before the video saw its end was a hoarse, “beautiful. Gorgeous. Unreal. Mine,” before it stopped and jumped back to show its thumbnail.

You let the both of you marinate in the silence that followed afterwards, with you gathering your wits as your worst half gently placed your phone down onto the coffee table.

“Oh my god.” you settled on saying, completely mortified.

“Oh my god.” Donghyuck repeated, sounding all too gleeful.

It almost looked like Donghyuck was impressed with what happened in the past five minutes when you slowly turned to face each other. “Wow,” he drawled, immediately raising your hackles at the god-awful sight of his self-righteous smirk. “and I thought I was the slut between us two.”

“Oh, you still are,” you bit back, not letting him get the upper-hand. “Three people in one night? I’m surprised your dick’s still attached to you.” or that he didn’t contract an STD for that matter, but small miracles could be given to anyone, you supposed. Even to a menace.

“You know what they say, the ‘s’ in slut stands for ‘safe’!”

“Literally no one has said that.”

“I literally just did.”

You dead-panned. “Get out.”

“You’re so boring,” he whined, getting up to head to the kitchen to probably gobble up the grilled sandwich you had made. “Well,” the muffled continuation said just as much. “maybe not since you fucked your ex-boyfriend’s best friend. Who would have thought you’d let Jaemin hit?”

You whirled around to glower at him, half for eating what was yours and half at his disguised jeering. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Y/N, I’m a dude,” he said slowly, like you were stupid. Maybe you were. “We can tell when a guy is interested.”

“You think Jaemin’s into me?”

Donghyuck’s initial reaction was to arch an eyebrow as he paused mid-chew, again, as if he could not believe you were this slow on the up-take. It was starting to piss you off, honestly, that he knew something you didn’t and was just waiting for you to piece everything together.

“You couldn’t tell?” He only gets an unimpressed stare to get on with it which he shrugged at. “Nevermind, you were too busy making googoo eyes at Jeno to pay attention. That worked at least, ‘cause soon enough, you were hanging off of his arm.”

You huffed, conceding with a roll of your eyes. “Fine. You got me there.”

Donghyuck scoffed, “‘course I do. Seriously though, we thought that you’d end up with Jaemin. He’s usually straight-forward with things like this, but since Jeno was there… well, y’know, bro-code or whatever the fuck.” He took a generous bite from the sandwich before placing it back down on the plate and dusting his hands from the crumbs. “Thing is though, he never really stopped looking at you? I’m sure you know how shameless he is with staring.”

Knew? You’ve caught him staring a handful times in the past and his shamelessness knew no bounds either. Not once did Jaemin appear remotely embarrassed meeting your eyes as he would smile each time, hold the eye contact for longer than what you would deem appropriate before moving his eyes elsewhere, and you knew that in no time, his gaze would be burning holes into your back again.

You’ve grown used to it anyway. It was strange, yes, but Jaemin never really did anything beyond what could make you uncomfortable. Even Jeno laughed it off when it was casually brought up during your past conversations, not really bothered by his best friend’s odd quirk.

“I can’t blame him,” you remembered him saying. “You’re really beautiful. I’d probably consider looking at you as one of my favorite past-times.” and safe to say, you did appreciate the comment, and Jeno definitely appreciated the soul-sucking blowjob you gave him if the strings of praises tangled with the ‘I love you’s’ were anything to go by.

None of that was relayed to Donghyuck though. Your knowledge on the matter wasn’t his business, nor did you think it was that of a big deal. So what if your ex-boyfriend’s best friend liked to keep his eyes on you? That didn’t mean anything. Just like what happened last night didn’t mean anything. It didn't have to mean anything.

It was a one-time thing and you were certain that it’ll take the Earth’s revolution around the sun to see him again. Perhaps never, if you played your cards right.

And watching your own sex-tape (accidental, or not) with Donghyuck won’t happen ever again when you made the mistake of trailing your eyes downwards.

You were very far from impressed, scowling at him. “I can see your dick through your pants, Hyuck. You’re gross.”

He at least had the decency to appear sheepish from you pointing out his body’s reaction. “Oh don’t like you weren’t the least bit turned on from that too.”

You flipped him off with both hands, face burning.

Donghyuck cackled and then waved you over to finish half of the sandwich.

Clearly, there was something in you that refused to see the bigger picture.

You couldn’t help it. You weren’t exactly one to get swept up in the assumptions made by you or the other people in your life that had their rare times of indulging the delusions that came hand-in-hand with them. And that’s all they were. Harmless assumptions and delusions that would be forgotten by the end of the day. Sooner, if you could help it.

So why were you sitting in the middle of your bed, obsessively scrolling through the videos taken from last night?

Perhaps you could blame it all on the insatiable curiosity that never really left even as Donghyuck said his farewell an hour or so ago.

Jaemin’s motive for filming last night’s drunken rendezvous was still—is still—no doubt, a mystery. Starting from why did he use your phone? It would have made much more sense if he used his. There was the possibility that it might have been his phone and had the forethought of airdropping everything to you for reasons unknown, but with a quick check of the details, nope. It was yours. Jaemin’s phone model was the newest one on the market, while yours was at least two years due for an upgrade, pretty much debunking your theory.

Which landed you in this position, looking through your camera roll for any hints that could shed light on his possible motives. Anyone who would find themselves in this dilemma had every reason to be angry. It was normal to feel outraged going through what you did last night and you could only pray to whatever higher being was up there that no one else knew what went on and if Jaemin had his own duplicates.

But—well. Anger was far from what fueled all this. Confusion more like and it only grew when you skimmed through the videos until one caught your eye.

This time, it was you holding the phone, your grasp being significantly shakier, but Jaemin didn’t mind. Not when he was rather preoccupied with his head stuck in between your quivering thighs, eating you out to his heart’s content. No, really. It was like he made it his life’s mission to give you the best head of your life with the way you were letting out a cacophony of pleasured sounds to which Jaemin looked particularly proud off, evident with the way he was leering at you through the screen.

Jaemin had always come off as intimidating with his looks alone; a soft but angular face with strong eyebrows framing the dark pits of his eyes and a smile full of perfect white teeth so wicked it could even put the devil to shame if he tried harder. It was common to be put-off by his intensity at first. He had always sought out to give off a strong impression, but it wouldn’t be long before he opened up, gracing everyone with the sweet side of him.

And sweet he was, with the way he was looking at you with the mess of saliva and your wetness coating his lips and chin. Even the tip of nose was dripping of it, yet you thought he was absolutely breathtaking that the dazzling smile did nothing but make him so much more.

They say that eyes are the window to the soul. That you can guess what was going through someone’s head if you dare peer into them longer. It was purely for the sake of uncovering answers on your part, but you weren’t sure if that was what you were searching for anymore.

He was doing unspeakable things to you, yes. That much was apparent with his mindless slurping and the pleased moans reverberating when you so much as tugged at his hair, or squeezed his head with your thighs. It’s like he was getting off from you getting off and it was all sorts of filthy when a dollop of his spit caught onto your clit just for the sake of it.

But his eyes were telling the complete opposite of his ministrations. Dark as they were, they held something soft in them. Gentle. Tender—dare you say it, enamored. Completely taken by how you were blatantly using him, rutting against that sinful tongue while simultaneously fucking yourself onto his thick fingers as he did the absolute most to match the desperate pace you were setting to chase your release.

The soft spoken praises fell so easily from his mouth. Slickened lips covering your inner thighs with kisses and gentle, teasing nips as he spoke sweet-nothings that were no less still filthy, yet his eyes still remained the same. Darkened even more with his blown out pupils, but the softness remained swimming in those endless pits of coffee brown sweeter than its bitter aftertaste; warm when Jaemin graced you with a lipped smile.

Even as Jaemin had you face down and ass up, the warm glow in his gaze stayed. Hips slammed into you with reckless abandon that with each push, you hiked higher and higher up his sheets that you had to hold onto his headboard to keep yourself in place. You assumed the phone was placed somewhere on his end table for the clear view, or else you wouldn’t be able to see the warmth light up his face too.

It’s truly a wonder how you were able to witness how easy his emotions took over his features. More so when he took it upon himself to manhandle you on your back, then did you see how easily Jaemin shed that hardass exterior of his.

That didn’t mean he had let up though, oh no. He was still rough with his treatment as you watched his hand come down onto your thigh with a loud smack before pushing at the back of your knees and until your thighs were pressed against your chest to fuck you deeper, harder, now that he raised one leg to get more leverage.

Jaemin graced you with a cruel smirk when you cried out from a pointed jerk of his hips. “Imagine how fucking pissed I was when Jeno snatched you up before I did.” That was news to you and it was more shocking that the man admitted it himself just as you were about to piece things together. “I saw you first. I befriended you first—fuck, I thought I made it obvious that I wanted you.” You could only let out a helpless mewl when he slowed down to scowl at you. “We’re friends, right?”

When you didn’t answer right away, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “Answer me, sweetheart. While I’m still nice enough to give you what you want.”

“Yes,” you sobbed, holding onto his wrist and you were exactly sure if drunk you wanted to keep it there or not. “We’re friends.”

Jaemin smiled something mean, “then how come I was the last to know that you chose Jeno over me?”

“I didn’t know—“

“You didn’t know? I’ve—” he cuts himself off with an incredulous laugh. “Right, how silly of me. You were too busy giving Jeno your attention.” Jaemin leaned in closer. “Maybe I should send this to him,” he mused, gesturing towards the phone with his head. “How’s that sound?” And humiliate yourself even further? You would rather die a painless death.

“No! Please no!” You could see yourself struggle, yet Jaemin with his sheer size and strength had no problem in keeping you pinned down.

“Why not? It’s not like you’re together or anything. Will it be that humiliating for you? There’s no reason to be, not when you're this gorgeous. Nothing wrong with being a slut either.”

“I’m—I’m not.”

“Oh yes you are, baby. You let me fuck you, didn’t you? Your ex’s best friend? Showing him all this could make him realize why he wasn’t able to keep you. Jeno didn’t know what you wanted. He didn’t know what you needed either. Me? I could give you both and more.” He sounded so sure about it. Looked sure about it too as he picked up the pace and settled on a brutal rhythm, punching more moans out of you. “All you have to do is just ask for it.”

“You’re fuh—fu—cking crazy,” was all you could say. It seemed you were starting to get light headed with how Jaemin still had a tight grip around your neck. Like a necklace choker that won't ever come off.

“I know I am, sweetheart, but don’t worry. I wasn't being serious. I’d kill anyone who sees you like this,” It was a threat and a promise all molded into one and hearing that strangely made your heart skip a beat. His face was drawn into something serious and darkened when he said, “Jeno included. He had his chance and he fucked all that to hell, but me? I’m not making the same mistake.”

The footage kept on rolling after Jaemin spilled into the condom, just a few seconds after you knocked out-cold from what seemed to be the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had—not that you could remember—in your life. Kept on rolling as he kissed your forehead before getting up to cleanup in the en suite. And rolled, and rolled, and rolled.

You were fully convinced that your one-night stand completely forgot the existence of your phone recording the post-sex ritual happening right before your eyes. It was kind of funny though, like watching a risqué vlog illustrating the proper etiquette when it came to aftercare.

Jaemin did just that, with the same balmy look in his eyes and the inherent tenderness in his actions as he took care of you even in your slumbering state.

He could have done better with dressing you up though, but you could understand that the exhaustion probably crept up at him when he didn’t even question the sweatpants he swiped up from the laundry hamper. Still, he tucked you in and gently kissed your cheek before shuffling over and picking up your phone, only to switch to the front camera, smile and blow a kiss.

With a huff, you fell back onto your bed, ruminating what Jaemin left behind and burning in shame and something else that you wouldn’t want to acknowledge.

It was some sort of confession, wasn’t it? Unconventional definitely, but the idea was there, glaring at you in minute-long clips and you couldn’t really think of your next move. Jaemin was still an enigma for sure and calling him didn’t sound like a good idea. At least at the moment it didn’t. You really had no clue if you should simply wait for him to reach out himself, but that's besides the point.

What you did know was that some part of you thought it was a shame that last night’s memory was still quite the blur. You couldn’t recall how Jaemin made you feel with his touch and you weren’t sure if gratitude should be even considered for him leaving you of last night’s evidence.

This was all too much. Jaemin was too much and you couldn’t think much now when you have plans coming up soon.

And if you came on your fingers twice from simply looking at the unmistaken adoration lifting Jaemin’s face as he had his way with you, then that was between you and God alone.

“Couldn’t we do this some other time?”

Donghyuck clicked his tongue as he pulled out a chair for you. “You know how Giselle is and to be fair, she’s been begging for us to meet up. She mentioned she’s bringing someone with her too.”

“That’s fine.” Probably one of your acquaintances. “But she couldn’t choose another day where I don’t feel and look like shit?”

“Relax. No one in here knows that you’ve been fucked six ways ‘til Sunday last night.”

He said it like he was talking about the weather, all the while scanning the menu nonchalantly as you prayed that no one else heard him. Donghyuck was right though. You did make sure to hide all evidence (mainly the marks on your neck), and the slight limp in your steps and it was such a relief on your part that you haven’t received any odd looks as of yet. If you were to get some concerning looks, it would be because of how fidgety you were. As if you were just waiting for Jaemin to come out and strike. Ugh, perhaps your body did remember some of last night.

“You’re fine, Y/N,” Donghyuck reassured, patting your thigh gently. “What are you gonna get? I’m thinking of steak. We could share each other’s food or something too.”

“Yeah, sounds nice—“

“Y/N! Girl, it’s been so long!”

Both you and Donghyuck looked up just in time to see Giselle quickly making her way over to where you both sat with a dazzling smile.

“Gigi, hi!”

The man beside you rolled his eyes as you rose up and kissed Giselle on the cheek, “I’m here too, y’know.”

She laughed and sat on the seat right across from him. “Yes, yes, hello to you too, Hyuck.” Giselle looked as if she came alone, noticing that no one was trailing behind her.

“I thought you were with someone?” you asked, handing over the menu to her.

She thanked you with a quick smile and got to scanning it. “He’s still parking his car. He insisted I go in first.”

He?

“He?” trust your best friend to voice out exactly what you were thinking. “Who’s he?” You couldn’t remember the last time she brought someone for you to meet. Usually, this was her way of checking whether the person would be worth her time. As all close friends would do. You did the same with Jeno and what a shame you guys didn’t even last that long.

“Some guy I met recently,” Giselle hummed. “He’s nice, I promise.”

The conversation flowed smoothly after that and you decided to order for everybody after Giselle mentioned that her ‘friend’ would most likely get the same thing as Donghyuck. You really couldn’t follow along much—still reeling from everything, really—but it seemed to be a heated discussion from how worked up Donghyuck was slowly becoming at each of Giselle’s rebuttals.

Your attention moved to your phone at that point, looking through your socials while simultaneously reading through the work emails you might have missed.

“Took you long enough, Jaemin.”

You froze.

Jaemin?

From that second, you concluded that you were just hearing things. Maybe you misheard Giselle and that it was some guy that had a similar sounding name to him. He wasn’t the only guy with a given name starting with ‘Jae’, right? Jaemin wasn’t the only Jaemin in the world either.

However, the universe might as well bring your nightmares to life because looking up from your phone, the same Jaemin Na was there. Sitting across from you a polite tilt of his lips.

Though as he looked down, taking a gander at your phone with shining eyes before meeting your gaze head on, the smile grew sharper, sinister and you dread whatever was coming next.

“Guys, this is Jaemin. Jaemin, Donghyuck and Y/N.”

“Oh, we’ve met.” Jaemin leaned forward, resting his cheek on his palm while you swallowed thickly. “It’s nice to see you again, sweetheart.”

“Well,” Donghyuck started, breaking the silence. “It could have gone worse.”

“What’s worse than meeting your one-night stand the very next day?”

“Jaemin telling everyone that he slept with you?”

“You’re useless, actually,” you dead-panned, plopping heavily onto your couch. “Seriously, that was probably the most embarrassing dinner ever. Poor Giselle probably thought that I didn’t want to see her.” Your hands flew to your face to hide, moaning in despair.

To be fair, it wasn’t entirely the worst situation you’ve been in. At least Jaemin was cordial enough to act normal aside from the fact that he still tried to burn holes into your profile when you focused on either Donghyuck or Giselle as you talked over the food. Jaemin didn’t say much either, and spoke when spoken to, yet his presence was so domineering that even pretending that he didn't exist was rather difficult that you just settled on acknowledging him out of politeness.

Never mind the fact that he looked like he wanted to eat you up and swallow you whole right then and there. Then again, that’s how he looked most of the time so it brought comfort that there was a fifty-fifty chance that you were wrong.

Donghyuck gave you a sympathetic pat on the head, “don’t worry about it. You can say sorry to her and she’ll be fine, and it’s not like you’ll be seeing Jaemin any time soon.”

At that moment, your phone chimed and with the whole dinner fiasco, you immediately assumed it was probably Giselle checking up on you. You did act a little weird for everyone’s tastes and you were kind of waiting for her to bring it up so you could explain yourself and express your deepest apologies for acting out-of-character.

See, it wasn't Giselle and you cursed Donghyuck in your head for jinxing it.

Donghyuck took one good look at your face, the corner of his lips tilting downwards in concern. “What'd Giselle say?”

You shook your head and handed it over to him.

“Oh my god.”

Jaemin Na: hey Jaemin Na: can i come over? Jaemin Na: :)

Shit.

note: this is dedicated to Aria for being just as insane as me when it comes to Jaemin 🫡

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @celeste-hoon @en-myworld

#FINALLY IVE FINISHED WRITING THIS this was supposed to come out a month ago lol oopsies #na jaemin x reader #na jaemin one shot #na jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin one shot #jaemin smut #nct x reader #nct one shot #nct smut #nct dream x reader #nct dream one shot #nct dream smut #nics: one shots

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pastryfication · 11 months ago

Text

love at first crash | ollie bearman

part of the love at first . . . series

pairing: oliver bearman x reader note: idk if they trust ollie with a ferrari but just run with it.

the impact is sudden, a violent jolt that sends your car careening off course, your heart leaping into your throat as you struggle to regain control. the world spins around you, a blur of colors and sounds, until your car finally screeches to a stop, the silence that follows almost deafening.

for a moment, you just sit there, gripping the steering wheel with trembling hands, your breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps. you force yourself to unbuckle the seatbelt, pushing open the door with shaky fingers, and step out onto the pavement. your legs feel weak beneath you, barely able to hold you up as you survey the damage.

your car is a mess, the front end crumpled beyond recognition, but it’s not the wreckage that sends your heart into a fresh wave of panic—it’s the sight of the other car. a sleek, red, and undoubtedly expensive ferrari. your stomach twists into knots as you realize just what you’ve done, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes trace the scratches marring the once pristine paint.

“oh no, oh no, oh no,” you mutter under your breath, your hands flying to your face as the reality of the situation sinks in. “i hit a ferrari. i actually hit a ferrari.”

before you can spiral any further, the door of the other car swings open, and out steps the driver—a young man, tall and lean, with dark, tousled hair that falls into his eyes. he quickly scans the scene, his eyes finally landing on you. for a brief moment, you’re caught in his stare, the world narrowing to just the two of you, and despite everything, you can’t help but feel a strange, magnetic pull towards him.

but then reality crashes back down, and all you can think about is the fact that you’ve just crashed into his ferrari, and your car is totaled, and there’s no way you can afford to fix this.

“are- are you okay?” he asks, his voice fighting hard to stay steady despite the obvious concern in his eyes. he moves toward you, but you’re too wrapped up in your own panic to register anything beyond the guilt gnawing at your insides.

“your car,” you stammer, your voice high and shaky as you look back at the ferrari. “i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to- i don’t know how this happened. i just-”

“hey, it’s okay,” he interrupts gently, his voice already seeming to be calming down, the soft tone feeling almost reassuring as he steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “i mean, it’s just a car. i’m alright. what matters is that you’re okay. are you hurt?”

his words take a moment to sink in, but when they do, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly dumbfounded. “just a car?” you repeat, incredulous. “but it’s a ferrari! it’s not just a car- and- and my car-” you glance back at the wreckage, the panic swelling up again. “i completely smashed my car. i’m so sorry. i don’t know how i’m going to-”

“hey, breathe,” he says, and this time, he gently places a hand on your arm, the touch warm and grounding. you don’t know how he manages to stay so calm. a man around 20 driving a ferrari and being completely calm about ruining it. not something you’d ever think possible. “we’ll figure this out. cars can be fixed or replaced—and i have an insurance.”

you nod, trying to take in a deep breath like he says, but to your horror, it catches in your chest, and before you know it, tears are welling up in your eyes. it’s all too much—the crash, the shock, the overwhelming guilt of damaging something so expensive. you’re on the verge of breaking down right there on the side of the road.

“hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he steps even closer, forcing himself to stay calm as his hand comes to still, resting gently on your arm. “you’re in shock. i think that’s normal. just- just take a deep breath.”

his presence is oddly calming, despite the slight waver in his voice, and you focus on the way he speaks, trying to match your breathing to his. after a few moments, the trembling starts to ease, and you manage to blink away the tears, finally looking up at him through blurry eyes.

“i’m so sorry,” you whisper, your voice still shaky but a little steadier now. “i can’t believe i hit your car.”

he smiles, soft and reassuring, and it’s like the weight on your chest lifts just a little. “it’s really okay,” he says, his eyes shining with kindness, understanding, and maybe even something deeper, something that makes your heart skip a beat despite the situation. “i promise, i’m not worried about the car. i’ll get it fixed. i’m just glad we’re both okay.”

you look at him, really look at him, and there’s something almost surreal about this moment—standing here, on the side of the road, next to a wrecked ferrari, being comforted by a stranger who should be furious, but isn’t. instead, there’s a connection, something electric in the air between you.

“i’m ollie,” he says, offering his name like it’s the most natural thing in the world, as if you’re not standing in the aftermath of a car crash.

you give him your name, your voice still shaky but stronger now, and he repeats it softly. “nice to meet you,” he says, and the words feel almost absurd given the circumstances, but also strangely fitting.

you exchange insurance details, though your hands are still trembling slightly as you write. the whole time, ollie stays close, his presence comforting in a way that feels almost too natural, too easy, as if you’ve known each other far longer than these few minutes. he talks to you, his voice a calming undercurrent to the chaos around you, distracting you from the panic still simmering beneath the surface.

when the tow trucks finally arrive, you both linger, neither of you in a rush to leave. there’s an unspoken connection, something that feels too important to let go of just yet. ollie seems to sense it too, hesitating before he speaks again.

“you know, we could always grab a coffee sometime,” he suggests, almost as if he’s testing the waters. “maybe talk about something other than cars?”

“i’d like that,” you say, your heart lighter now, the earlier panic fading into something else entirely.

he smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes you believe in things like fate, like maybe some things are just meant to be. “great,” he says, pulling out his phone to exchange numbers. “i’ll call you.”

you nod, watching him closely as he taps away at you phone. his hair falls softly in front his eyes and a goofy grin is spread across his face.

you just crashed your cars, experiencing something possibly traumatising together, but he’s smiling goofily, and you can’t help but smile too. because who would have thought that your day would go like this?

guess you could call it love at first crash.

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annewithaneofthegreengable · 3 months ago

Text

Summer Serendipity

AMEN TO THAT!!! HALLELUJAH FOR THE EMPTY TOMB AND A FULL PODIUM 🕊️🏁🙌

Jesus conquered death, and Oscar conquered the grid 😤🕊️👑 From the stone rolled away to the tires rolling fast — resurrection and redemption all in one weekend! 🦅⛪🚗💨

HOW ARE WE FEELING TODAY? BLESSED? ANOINTED? PIASTRIFIED?? 😭🔥

Summary: It was the summer break between the races, and Oscar suddenly came across a travel magazine about a quiet town in Northern Ireland on the work desk of someone who had left it open when he was visiting McLaren’s HQ in Woking. Next thing, he was on his way to Belfast, with nothing much on his mind, no worries about the championship standings, the braking mode, the corners or chicanes,... Nothing, just him and his summer getaway in Belfast.

Meanwhile, Edith Ezra, a devoted single mother working at a quaint cafe in Belfast, cherishes her two children, Ivy and Eddie, above all else. Having faced the heartbreak of their father's abandonment, Edith has built a life centred around providing for her family and creating a sense of stability for her children.

When Oscar's path crosses with Edith's in Belfast, their worlds collide in unexpected ways. As Oscar finds himself drawn to the warmth and genuine kindness of Edith and her children, he begins to see a different side of life beyond the fast-paced world of racing.

Author's note: here it is!!! The second chapter. Hope you guys will like it, and please send me any message whether you like it or not, and if you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know too! Happy reading. Oh, btw, do you guys prefer longer chapters or shorter?

The next morning came with Belfast rain, light but persistent, the kind that soaked into your sleeves before you even realized it had started. Oscar didn’t mind. He’d left his cap behind, opting instead for a hooded jacket and the same worn trainers he’d worn the day before. His pace was slow, deliberate, the kind of wandering that wasn’t quite aimless. He told himself he was just exploring the neighbourhood. He wasn’t planning to end up at the same café.

But his feet had other ideas.

The Bean & Blossom appeared again like it had been waiting for him, tucked into its quiet corner, warm light glowing from inside, condensation gently fogging the windows. Someone had chalked a new message on the board outside: Rainy days mean extra whipped cream. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He stepped inside, letting the bell above the door announce him again. The warmth hit immediately, followed by the same sweet scent of cinnamon and espresso. A few familiar faces sat scattered across the room, one older man reading the paper with a scone, two students hunched over notebooks in the back.

And Edith.

She was behind the counter, bent over the pastry case, rearranging a fresh tray of almond croissants. Her hair was tied up messily, but there was no missing it, red like autumn leaves and tucked behind her ears, a few strands falling loose as she concentrated. She glanced up at the sound of the bell, and for a split second, her eyes lit up in recognition.

“Back again?” she asked, brushing flour from her hands.

Oscar shrugged lightly, stepping forward. “Cinnamon swirl kind of haunted me last night.”

She laughed. “Yeah, it does that. You’re not the first poor soul we’ve ensnared.”

He leaned slightly on the counter, eyes scanning the chalkboard. “What’s the damage today?”

“Well,” Edith said, tapping a pen to her chin in mock seriousness, “the swirl’s still on the menu. Barely. You got lucky. Coffee’s still hot. And I might throw in a bit of gossip about the flower stall guy if you play your cards right.”

Oscar cracked a smile. “Dangerous offer.”

“I like to live on the edge.”

He ordered the same thing, flat white, cinnamon swirl, and retreated to the same table as yesterday. The café looked different in the rain. Quieter, slower. The kind of place where time softened at the edges. People lingered longer. Conversations drifted like steam from coffee cups.

Edith brought over his order a few minutes later, this time with a small vase on the tray, just a single, raindrop-speckled daisy sticking out.

“For the table,” she said, with a little shrug. “Rainy days deserve flowers too.”

He nodded his thanks, and for a while, they didn’t say much. She returned to the counter, chatting with a pair of customers in line. Oscar took a bite of the cinnamon swirl, still warm, still perfect, and stared out the window, watching umbrellas bob past.

It wasn’t until he was halfway through his coffee that he realized he hadn’t checked his phone once.

No emails. No team messages. No schedule reminders. No missed calls from Mark. It was still there, of course, in his pocket. But it didn’t feel as heavy today.

The rain began to let up. A beam of pale sunlight pushed through the clouds, catching in the streaks of water on the windowpane. Across the room, Edith was laughing at something, her head thrown back slightly, that bright, real kind of laugh that didn’t belong to a world full of media scrums and sponsor obligations.

Oscar watched her, and for a fleeting second, it felt like everything, racing pressure, expectations, was a thousand miles away.

The rain stopped sometime after he came back from the coffee shop, but the streets still shimmered with puddles, and the air smelled faintly of wet stone and chimney smoke. Oscar sat in the window seat of the rental flat, legs stretched out on the wooden bench, a half-read book resting on his lap. It wasn’t particularly gripping, something about a lost sailor and a lighthouse, but he hadn’t come here to be entertained. He’d come to slow down. Or stop altogether.

Outside, Belfast moved at its own quiet rhythm. A cyclist splashed through the narrow lane below. A woman walked her dog, tugging it gently away from a lamppost. Somewhere across the street, someone was playing a piano. Just a few notes at a time. Like they were figuring it out as they went.

He liked that.

He hadn’t opened his phone all day. Not even to check the news or scroll mindlessly. It was still on airplane mode, resting in the bowl by the door where he’d dropped it the moment he arrived.

There was something unnerving about the silence that came with disconnection. But there was also something… honest. And Oscar wasn’t sure he remembered what that kind of quiet felt like before now.

He eventually left the flat sometime in the afternoon, jacket zipped up, beanie pulled low this time instead of the usual cap. He didn’t look like an F1 driver. He barely even looked like himself. And that was the point.

He walked without a destination, past the old cathedral, through side streets where murals towered on the walls, bold with paint and pride. Past schoolkids in uniforms and old men sitting outside the corner shop, nursing takeaway tea and half-smoked cigarettes.

Until he found himself walking along the edge of a small public park.

It wasn’t grand, just a stretch of grass, a few benches, and a tired-looking playground tucked into one corner. Swings creaked in the breeze. A roundabout spun lazily, nudged on by a small foot.

And then he saw her.

Not in the apron or behind the counter, not with flour on her cheek or a steaming coffee in hand, but on the grass, red hair loose around her shoulders. Edith. She was laughing, really laughing, as she tried to coax a reluctant little boy down the slide.

The boy, who could only be about four or five, clung to the top like it was Everest. A girl, a little older, Oscar guessed seven, was already halfway across the monkey bars, calling, “Come on, Eddie! I did it and I’m smaller than you!”

That made the boy grumble and squirm. “You’re not smaller,” he shouted, then looked down nervously at his mum.

Edith stepped back and held out her arms. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

Oscar stopped on the path without meaning to, caught in the warmth of the scene. It wasn’t just the kids, or the laughter, or even Edith. It was all of it. The way her eyes sparkled when Eddie finally let go and slid down into her arms. The way Ivy cheered for her brother was like he’d just won a race. The way Edith hugged them both tightly for no reason except that they were hers.

He felt like an intruder, but he couldn’t move. Not yet.

Edith noticed him then.

She didn’t startle. Didn’t tense up. Her gaze met his, questioning for only a second before it softened into recognition. She gave a nod, almost casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world that he’d be standing there watching her kids play.

He hesitated, then stepped off the path and into the grass.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Hey,” she replied, brushing hair from her face. “Didn’t take you for the playground type.”

“Me neither,” Oscar said, smiling faintly. “Guess I’m full of surprises.”

Eddie peered up at him from behind his mum’s leg. Ivy, bold and curious, stepped forward. “Are you Mum’s friend?”

Oscar blinked. “Um…”

Edith grinned and knelt beside her daughter. “Maybe. What do you think, Ivy? Can someone be a friend if you’ve only talked once?”

“Sure,” Ivy said immediately, then extended her hand like she’d done it a hundred times before. “I’m Ivy. That’s Eddie. He’s a bit scared of slides, but we still love him.”

Oscar crouched to shake her hand. “I’m Oscar.”

Eddie peeked out again, then disappeared back behind Edith.

“Don’t worry,” Edith said with a small laugh. “He will warm up to you soon.”

Oscar chuckled, and it felt real.

For the first time in what felt like years, Oscar let himself linger. Ivy’s handshake, firm and full of childish certainty, had surprised him. She regarded him with open curiosity, her blue eyes wide and fearless, a mirror of her mother’s. Eddie, on the other hand, watched him from behind Edith’s knees, his blonde head peeking out, quick to retreat whenever Oscar’s gaze met his. The playground was alive with the shrieks and laughter of other children, but in this little bubble of grass and rain-damp air, Oscar felt oddly safe.

Edith sat on the grass, her shoes kicked off, and motioned for Oscar to join her. He hesitated only a moment before lowering himself beside her. The ground was damp, but he didn’t care. He was used to discomfort, it was the price of racing, of travel, of fame. But this? This was a different kind of vulnerability.

“Do you come here often?” he asked, watching Ivy climb back onto the monkey bars.

“Pretty much every afternoon,” Edith replied, stretching her legs out. “The kids need to burn off energy, and I need the air. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, Angie covers the last café shift and I get to play mum for a while.”

Oscar smiled, feeling the tension leach from his shoulders. “Your café is great, by the way.”

Edith grinned. “You’re not just saying that because of the cinnamon swirl?”

He shook his head. “That, and the welcome. I haven’t had either in a while.”

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, broken only by the children’s shouts. Ivy had convinced Eddie to try the slide again, and this time, he let go with only a little coaxing, shooting down into his mother’s waiting arms. Edith’s laughter, clear and bright, filled the air. Oscar felt it in his chest, a warmth that surprised him.

“Are you here on holiday?” Edith asked, glancing at him over her shoulder.

Oscar hesitated. The question was innocent enough, but the truth was complicated. “Sort of. Needed a change of scenery.”

She nodded, and to his relief, didn’t press. “Well, Belfast’s good for that. Not too many crowds if you know where to look. And the rain keeps most of the tourists away.”

He chuckled. “I noticed.”

Ivy came running over, her face flushed. “Can we get ice cream, Mum? Please? Eddie says he wants chocolate.”

Edith looked at Oscar, her expression playful. “What do you think? Ice cream on a rainy day?”

He shrugged. “Why not? Rain never stopped me.”

The little group set off down the street, the kids skipping ahead while Edith and Oscar followed at a slower pace. The ice cream shop was only a few blocks away, a family-owned place with faded pastel tiles and a bell that jingled when they entered. Edith ordered for the kids, one chocolate, one strawberry, and Oscar, caught up in the spirit of the moment, ordered a scoop of vanilla with sprinkles.

They sat at a window table, the kids already sticky with melted ice cream. Conversation came easily. Edith told him about the café, about the regulars who came rain or shine, about the small triumphs and challenges of single parenthood. Oscar listened, asking questions, genuinely interested. It was the first time in ages he’d talked to someone without the filter of fame or the pressure to perform.

He told Edith a little about himself, just the basics. Australian, loves cars, needed a break from his works, which is something that related to motorsports. She didn’t push for more, and he was grateful. They talked about places in Belfast he should see, about the best spots for coffee, about the surprising warmth of the city even when the weather was grey. The children, sensing the ease between the adults, grew bolder. Ivy asked if he’d ever been to a real racetrack. Eddie wanted to know if Oscar could beat his toy cars in a race.

Oscar laughed and promised to show them a few tricks sometime. For the first time since arriving in Belfast, he forgot to be guarded. He was just Oscar, a stranger making friends in a new place.

As the afternoon wore on, Edith glanced at her watch. “We should head home. Homework and bath time wait for no one.”

Oscar stood, helping gather the empty cups. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

Ivy beamed. “Will you come to the park again?”

He looked at Edith, who smiled. “You’re welcome any time.”

“Then I’ll be there,” he said.

Walking back, Edith’s hand rested gently on Eddie’s head, guiding him along the wet pavement. The children ran ahead, splashing in puddles, their laughter echoing through the quiet street. Oscar felt something shift inside him, a sense of belonging he hadn’t known he craved.

When they reached the café, Edith paused. “We live just upstairs from the shop. You can stop by any time, Oscar. Really. Even if you just need more cinnamon swirls.”

He smiled, earnest. “I will. Thanks, Edith.”

She nodded, then shepherded the kids inside, waving as she closed the door.

Oscar lingered on the street, watching the glow from the flat above the café, the silhouettes of the children dancing behind the curtains. The rain had started again, gentler this time, but he didn’t mind. He turned up his collar and walked slowly back to his flat, feeling lighter than he had in months.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, he was content. In a city that wasn’t his, among people who didn’t know his story, Oscar Piastri had found a quiet refuge.

Liked by @/Angiethebougie, @/Luckyluke and 118 people.

@/Edithlovesedit: Playdate must come with an ice-cream date! And that's me trying a new recipe. Sadly, it's rather dull, so no more new menu

view all comments

@/Angiethebougie: send them my kisses

-> @/Edithlovesedit: will do

-> @/Angiethebougie: quick question, who is E looking at? Definitely not me 🤔

-> @/Edithlovesedit: no one. must be ur imagination

-> @/Angiethebougie: interesting

-> @/Luckyluke: any hot dads at the park?

-> @/Edithlovesedit: only dogs, ducks and old ppl

@/Luckyluke: Oh they are growing too fast 😭

-> @/Edithlovesedit: yes, one day they wont need their momma anymore. brb im streaming never grow up by tay-tay rn

Taglist: @teamnovalak @angelluv16 @frankiejo04 @manuztb @httpsxnox

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woodlaflababab · 1 year ago

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Iroh says Aang gives Zuko hope and like, 10/10, love that

But I feel like the mirror of this is overlooked alot, or at least I don't see a lot of talk abt it.

Zuko is Aang's hope.

Zuko is the representation of the enemy, but Aang knows he's also just a kid, or teenager, like Aang, and he's someone who reminds Aang of Kuzon, one of his best friends. To Aang, Zuko is everything the fire nation is to him, something familiar and dear to his heart that's been twisted almost beyond recognition.

If Aang can see good in Zuko, if Aang can bring the good out from Zuko, then there is hope for the rest of the firenation. In his day, the fire nation people were friends, and in the modern day, they are enemies. If he can be friends with Zuko, that means there's hope that he can have just a piece of his old world back, even if it looks a little different.

Aang can never go back. He can never get his old family back, he can't truely revive what was lost, only preserve it with hopes it can be revived in the future. He can't undo geological changes, he can't rewrite history, but there's one thing of his old world he hopes he can still have, and that is friendship that trancends borders and cultures.

Nobody represents that more than Zuko, the person who Aang wants to be friends with like the old days, but cannot because of the war. Being friends with Zuko, a blatent act of defiance against the war and all it has changed and damaged, is the biggest connection Aang gets to the world he once knew since he got frozen in the iceberg.

Aang gives Zuko hope, but Zuko is Aang's hope.

#this was supposed to be short #why am I incapable of having short zukaang thoughts #zukaang #but also platonically #atla #zukaang talks #talks #woodlaflababab

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arvlelt · 7 months ago

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not just an agreement.

pairing - jinx x fem!reader

cw - suggestive, teasing, jinx calls reader sweetcheeks and sweetheart (it suits her sm idk leave me alone), flirting, fluff(?), intimacy, yearning(?), making out, jinx is handsy and bold w reader, reader is a lil shy, def got a little carried away w the plot, oopsies

request from anonymous - Hiiii! I have a reqest for a Jinx X fem mechanic reader? a more romantic/suggestive plot, with the mechanic maybe helping Jinx with some weapon upgrades and they're flirting back and forth

w. count - 2.1k+

a/n - i acc really like this, lmk your thoughts! kinda proofread but lmk if theres anything wrong:))

at first it was just an agreement between you and silco.

he was concerned about the amount of time jinx was spending alone, and figured she needed a companion. preferably someone with the same interests and talents as jinx herself, since she could be a little picky about the people she surrounds herself with.

she had a little reputation of hurting her companions in the past because of her hallucinations, and even when she didn't have them -- she just loved messing with 'em.

this was in retaliation, insisting that she was better off alone.

reason being, silco was a bit hesitant in trying to find her a companion again but knew she needed it.

but all that hesitancy faded the minute he had met you.

there was a lineup of people that were waiting to see if silco would hire them.

word got out that silco needed a mechanic, and people started lining up immediately.

they had met up at his hideout, everyone that volunteered would be blindfolded and taken by one of his minions to not give away his place.

while some were hoping the position would get them more shimmer or more power and recognition in the undercity, you just wanted to make weapons or fix things.

you were hoping you could do more -- go beyond with whatever supplies he had. you were sure he had to have good shit, considering he and his partner made shimmer.

he could see the slight glimmer in your eyes that interested him.

"this one."

his thick voice echoed throughout the walls, his men following protocol and leading the other people out. which they showed disappointed as they walked out with slumped shoulders.

you were a bit shocked, looking around before your eyes landed on silco in his chair again, "what's your name?"

"y/n," you replied, taking another glance around the place. you had never seen so many of these things in one place at once - and with no damage done to them.

silco stood up from his chair and walked over to what had caught your eye.

"well, y/n. truth is..." uh oh.

your mind immediately went to worst case scenario. maybe you should of thought this through, considering you were trying to work for silco, of all people.

silco seemed to sense your sudden alertness and gave a slight chuckle, "don't worry. i'm not going to hurt you," that seemed to ease you up a bit as you took two weary steps away from him... just in case.

silco gave a smirk as he sat back down in the chair to make you feel a bit better, "smart one you are. but, truth is... you're not going to just be a mechanic for me. you're going to be a... companion to my daughter, jinx. in return, you'll get special benefits - allowance and a place of your own."

you felt your heart drop to your ass.

what?

companion? daughter? jinx?

that's what the arrangement was at first. you were weary at first because of the things you had heard about her, but as time passed and you got more comfortable with jinx, you didn't really need the 'special benefits' anymore.

you especially gave those up after jinx had found out about your little 'deal,' as jinx had called it, and nearly went on a rampage with her 'pow pow' machine gun.

the only thing that really became a non-negotiable was lending a place to sleep.

....as silco may or may have not grown a soft spot for you as well.

"...hey! you still here with me?" jinx waved her hands in your face, helping you out of the little memory you were remembering, wondering where you would've been if you hadn't volunteered.

you were sitting on a chair, with jinx standing as she messed with her trinkets, your head resting on your arm that rested on her little desk she had.

you shook your head slightly, "no, sorry. i was just thinking, what were you saying?" you stood up, showing more interest in whatever she was doing.

you were helping her figure out how she could power up one her new little trinkets that she had created.

jinx put a hand on her hip, "awh c'mon, you mean you didn't hear my entire rant of how i discovered this to wooorkk?" she dramatized as she started walking in little circles.

you gave a slight laugh, sitting on her desk, putting one hand on her desk and tilting your head on your shoulder a bit, "awh, c'mon, you can't repeat yourself? i wanna know what you had to say," your tone was teasing as you copied her words.

and god jinx had a love/hate relationship with the way it made her stomach flutter.

you always knew how to unconsciously reassure her.

jinx stopped her circles with her back turned to you before she swiftly turned around, using her shimmer to suddenly appear right in your face before you could register she even turned around.

something you learned early on with jinx, she didn't know personal space at all - at least not with you.

in the last couple months that you were working for silco, yes you were making him weapons, but you started to take a liking to jinx.

and unbeknownst to you, jinx was starting to take a liking to you too.

jinx gave a slight smirk at the way you backed up on the desk, your ass on it slightly, both of your hands came behind you to lay flat on the desk.

in the time that you two spent together, you both learned plenty about the other. while you learned that jinx needed more reassurance than others and things of the sorts, jinx was observant of the way you'd get nervous whenever she got close to you.

of course she learned other things about you but she was fixated on how you'd act when she would get a little too close to you.

no matter if it was to observe whatever weapon you were fixing or making - or to just mess with you - she'd see the way you suddenly get quiet and stammer on your words a bit.

and you suddenly felt how close she was to you, her body wasn't pressed up against you, but your bodies would graze one another ever so frequently.

in a way that had you both breathing a little heavier, both of you looking at each other's lips.

jinx suddenly leaned in more with a tilt of her head, making you lean more back, your entire ass almost nearly on the desk.

her hands went on her desk behind you, enclosing you against her.

she had a such an evil grin on her face - she knew what she was doing - as she began speaking and telling you again what she discovered.

"...so i basically figured out that, to make this go boom! i need to get that 'ol gemstone i have in my gun to make it explode..." she trailed off as she noticed you were staring very heavily at her lips.

not even noticing her hand inching closer and closer towards your hip that rested on her desk.

your eyes widened slightly when you felt her take another step closer, making your legs part and practically forcing you to sit on the desk properly.

"whatcha' lookin' at, sweetcheeks?"

you felt speechless.

you weren't going to deny the recent tension you had felt with jinx recently, in the last two months. but you never thought you'd end up in this position with her.

you thought back. the fleeting touches, the way she'd look at you when she was explaining something, the way she would make excuses to get close to you, always wanting touching you.

it all started when you two had decided to have a sleepover.

you were supposed to have gone back to your place hours ago, but jinx had told you she felt lonely and she wanted you to stay the night.

at first, it was just like helping a friend, it was something harmless.

'you were only helping a friend out,' you'd try to convince yourself in your head.

at least you thought.

you two were giggling like fools as you painted poorly done portraits of one another on a time limit.

you both sat on opposite sides of each other, a box holding up the canvas's.

jinx had her tongue out in fake concentration as she rushed through it, eyes flickering to the timer every now and then.

"3...! 2...! 1...!" jinx counted down and once you heard buzzer go off, you put your brush down and put your hands up.

you laughed as you looked at jinx and then the portrait, paint-covered hands coming up to your mouth to cover it, folding over your stomach in your seat at how ridiculous yours looked.

jinx put her hands on her lap, "it can't be that bad, lemme see!" she reached over and grabbed your canvas.

she barely gave it a glance before she set it back down, "... moving on, look at mine! i think i did, pretty good," she turned it around, leaning on it slightly and looked at her hands like she just accomplished something, blowing her hands for affect.

and honestly she hadn't.

it was probably just as bad as yours.

that innocent face portrait, turned into finger-painting the little hut you created for her - to decorate it.

a comfortable silence between you two, and it was a rare moment where everything in jinx's head was quiet.

jinx was on the other side of the hut, looking at you decorate it before looking back at what she was doing.

"is it okay if i paint something on ya?" she said it so casually you thought you misheard her.

"huh? what?" you asked her with furrowed eyebrows.

jinx chuckled, "can i paint something on you? you don't have to say yes, you just look... like you'd make a good canvas," and lord have mercy, did that make your legs wanna give out.

you gulped, swallowing hard at the feeling of your throat going dry at her words, "yeah, sure. uh- how do you want me to sit?"

you began busying yourself with moving some things around so you two had space on her floor where her blankets and pillows were.

"just lay down for me and i'll take care of it, 'kay?" jinx began grabbing the paint and brushes she needed.

she ended up painting a very pretty floral design on your shoulder that went all the way down to your wrist.

and maybe got a little distracted and drew little doodles on your stomach once you fell asleep, the brush strokes lulling you to sleep.

the whole thing was quite intimate, and after that happened., something was different between you.

you weren't sure if it was just you that felt it, you were sure you were the only one until she started doing things that had you thinking otherwise.

like now, how you're so tempted to lean in and kiss her, just let her hands roam your body. her eyes were very obviously looking down between your eyes and lips.

she gave a slight huff of amusement, "knew you didn't have it in you, sweetheart," she had a slight smirk as she backed up, walking away, feeling a sense of victory at how tongue tied she had you.

that was basically all you had to know as you suddenly walked up to her and grabbed her by the shoulder, turning her around and grabbing her face and connecting your lips with hers.

jinx let out a slight moan at the sudden feeling, not hesitating to close her eyes and put one hand on your hip and the other on your waist, she pulled you into her.

you loved the way her lips felt on yours - the way she would slightly open her mouth to mold hers with yours felt so euphoric.

at first it was slow as you took slow steps back as you felt one of her hands wandering down to your ass, grabbing the fat of it and giving it a light squeeze.

you let out a slight noise against her lips when feeling her back you up more and having her hands trail under your shirt to your lower back, "mm,"

you could feel her smile against your lips at your reaction.

and before she could put you against her desk once more-

"jinx!"

you both pulled away with flushed faces, looking in the direction of where the voice came from.

silco was calling for her again.

jinx looked back at you with a grin, hands coming up to your waist and giving it a slight squeeze before letting you go, "and for the record, i do have it in me."

you watched as jinx got her gun and gave you a little chuckle, watching as she walked down her ramp, "oh, is that what that was? tryna prove a point, even though you get all nervous when i get too close to you, sweetcheeks?" her voice faded as she walked off to go and see what silco wanted, braids swaying in a way that had you entranced with the way she walked.

you huffed but couldn't stop the smile from making it's way to your face.

you didn't know what the hell this was, but it was not just an agreement anymore.

#jinx arcane #arcane jinx x reader #jinx x reader #jinx x fem!reader #arcane x reader

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sysmedsaresexist · 3 months ago

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I'm ready to give up on this site, I'm so disappointed with the things I'm seeing in the tags

I miss the old days and having real conversations

I'm so tired of the surge in conspiracy talk, the harmful ideas tearing apart our community, and spreading globally

The history that's being forgotten, overlooked, and twisted beyond recognition

If you think that RAMCOA (now OEA) is antisemitic, I'm going to ask that you unfollow and block me, and I hope you find peace with the damage you're doing and the support you're inadvertently giving to an actual racist at the heart of these claims

Discrediting RAMCOA is discrediting DID as a whole, and it starts with bringing back the satanic panic and causing people to question claims of abuse and trauma

The last time this happened, therapists stopped working with trauma victims entirely, and it took DECADES to repair the damage. Psychology textbooks written by the FMSF early after the panic are still used in colleges and universities to this day.

It's almost too easy for Grey Faction to win.

Good luck out there, and may whatever gods exist help us all in the coming years

WE STAND WITH RAMCOA/OEA SURVIVORS

#syscourse #not syscourse #ramcoa is now oea #conspiracy tw #losing faith in humanity #sophie has said this before and now I'm saying it #i miss the crusty croissant that used to actually talk about things with me #did osdd

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onelittlespiral · 2 days ago

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FML: Zonked

You hardly registered as your roommate came back from his run and wandered into your room, “Hey bro, I was supposed to get a package today, you didn’t happen to… you stupid son of a bitch.”

But you had heard the apartment doorbell ring a few hours ago, and you went out to grab a package. Zonks it read in bright neon colors. It looked like your roommate bought a few new snacks. He wouldn’t mind if you tried them, surely? The box revealed a few small packets of bright yellow balls. They smelled citrusy as you popped one in your mouth. The taste was more subtle than you expected, lemon with a faint vanilla aftertaste, but the fizzing and sour powder inside punched well above its weight, sending shocks through your sinuses. You meant to only eat one or two, but they were just so easy to pop in your mouth. As each ball dissolved you hardly noticed as your limbs felt heavier and your breathing became thin until your head felt lighter than air. Still you continued to robotically shoved each ball into your gaping mouth until the packet was empty. You were beyond help as your brain fizzled out in your head, not that you could manage to care. As you laid back in your seat, your mouth dropped open, tongue rolled out as your eyes went cross in your empty skull. You couldn’t look more stupid if you tried.

That’s where your roommate found you hours later, unmoving, unthinking, zonked out of your mind. He grabbed the empty packet from beside you and checked the warning you had been too careless to read,

Warning: Each packet contains 12 servings of Zonks. One serving of Zonks may lead to loss of motor functions, limited cognitive functions, and enhanced behavioral compliance. Concentrated dosages may lead to permanent damage. Please enjoy responsibility!

“Fuck bro, this shit’s expensive! I can’t believe you downed the whole pack. You better at least say you’re sorry.”

A wave of recognition passed over your face, “You’re… thowy…” you mumbled out.

He turned looking more pissed off, “Bro, not ‘you’re sorry,’ say, ‘I’m sorry.’ And stick that stupid tongue back in your mouth.”

Your tongue snapped back, “I’m sorry,”you mumbled back.

Your roommate glanced back at the packet in his hand, then walked over to you with curiosity, “Hey, raise your right hand for me?”

Instantly, you could feel your right hand again, and brought it into the air.

“Bro, are you playing with me? Stand up.”

You silently watched your body step out of bed. It gave your body a strange… rush to be ordered around. It felt like he was completing a puzzle in yourself that you couldn’t anymore.

“Shit, what’s your name, bro?”

You couldn’t remember anymore, “I… I’m Bro,” you respond. That must be it. It’s what he calls you. But he was laughing as you said it.

“No, no, your name’s not bro. You’re so fucking stupid. For real, what’s your name?”

“Uhhh… I’m… I’m So Fucking Stupid,” you grinned at figuring it out.

“Damn, these things really did a number on you,” a mischievous expression passed over his face, as he spoke with more authority, “Well, maybe I can still have some fun with those Zonks even if you ate them. Your name is Bitch. Always has been. What’s your name?”

“My name is Bitch,” it felt right on your tongue. Glad that was settled.

“You want to listen only to me now Bitch. I’m not your roommate. I’m your Boss. Let me know you understand.”

“Yes, Boss. I understand,” there was no room to question the man in charge after all.

“Huhuhu, bro this is freaky. Okay Bitch, get on your knees and say, ‘I’m sorry I ate your Zonks,’ and I want you to mean it. You feel so sorry you ate my snacks.”

Tears sprung forth from your eyes as a deep sense of loss rolled over you. Falling at his feet you repeat “I’m sorry I ate your Zonks.” How could you disappoint your Boss like this?

He chuckled, “Kiss your Boss’s feet. Say it again and mean it.”

No smell could keep your lips from worshiping your Boss’s feet. Crying, you wailed “I’m so sorry I ate your Zonks!”

He leaned over and gently petted your head, “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” It felt nice that he was so understanding with you. “But, you are going to have to pay me back, Bitch.” He unbuckled his belt and worked his damp shorts down, letting his sweaty cock hit you in the face. “I haven’t had a load off in weeks. You like eating my food? Might as well swallow this cock too. Open wide Bitch, you are going to work off your debt to me. You are now nothing but a passionate cock sucking machine. Your only purpose in life is to make me cum. And you’re going to love it.”

Your mouth rolled open just how it was when your Boss walked into the room. You felt a surge of passion within you. You were designed to fit your Boss’s dick in your mouth. To pleasure this man you owed so much to. To be his perfect Bitch, a cock sucking machine. You felt hungry as his tip passed through your lips and the flavor of his girthy shaft filled your senses. And as he rammed his dick deep inside you and your face touched against his pelvis, penetrating your very being, you loved that you were so useful to your Boss.

#hypnosis #reality change #fml #mind corruption #male mind control #dumber tf

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fairuzfan · 1 year ago

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This is a ridiculous article that honestly is one of the worst examples of "journalism" I've seen. The identification of bodies means that they were claimed and counted. The unidentified bodies means they didn't meet the requirements for identification (they could be damaged bodies beyond recognition, they don't have people alive to claim the bodies to know who they are exactly because entire families are wiped off the registry, etc). They would know that if they actually examined what "identified" means.

Like it's so ridiculous, there are just so many corpses in Gaza coming all the time that they can't technically identify them. They have bare minimum requirements because they don't want to MISidentify.

Also yes, people are estimating people under the rubble are dead because they can't physically get to them. It's impossible most of the time. The article goes into saying "its hamas' fault but I guess also israel" when Israel literally kills UN workers. UN workers are free to examine, they just CANT because of Israel KILLING them all.

The article says "a competent reporter" will know how to avoid bias but the author themselves are so obviously biased, painting hamas as the main aggressor when it's Israel who is killing THOUSANDS of people. And having the Atlantic publish this excerpt during a massacre of children just hours ago:

To rebut Hamas’s allegations by letting journalists see the war up close would be a calculated risk. Even when conducted legally, war is ugly. It is possible to kill children legally, if for example one is being attacked by an enemy who hides behind them. But the sight of a legally killed child is no less disturbing than the sight of a murdered one. And Israel has discovered that shutting out the press carries its own risks. An infanticide that no one can see is also going to attract suspicion.

Yeah this is "competent" journalism /sarcasm.

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astarioffsimpmain · 2 years ago

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Consternation

Astarion x F!Reader

Warnings: Explicit violence; gore; mentions of abuse

Synopsis: Astarion realizes that Cazador is no longer his worst fear

Author's Note: This is my first ever Astarion fic, and I have to thank the members of the Astarion fandom that I have met thus far. This fic would not exist without your encouragment. <3

It was foreign to him, this fear. This icy chill that rattled his bones struck him deep at the core and unsettled him in a way that had him desperate to both pace ceaselessly and never move again. Oh, he had felt fear. It had been his constant companion since he was taken by Cazador; often his only companion as he writhed in the dark, his eyes open but nothing behind them.

But this…

He watched as Karlach carried you back to the campsite. You were bloodied almost beyond recognition, your heartbeat barely reaching his sensitive ears. It was his fault. You and he had argued last night; it was petty. He had been petty. He used the words that he knew would hurt you, and you, too spent after a grueling day to see through his act, had retreated to your own tent to seek out sleep in painful solitude. But sleep had not come. He'd seen it in your eyes this morning when you emerged from your tent, squinting and glaring up at the sun as though it was your enemy, and not his.

And when you, he, and Karlach had gone out in search of food and firewood, you had been too slow, too fatigued, and too distracted to guard yourself from the attack. Orcs. They were a vicious bunch, springing on the three of you from the thicket near the base of the mountain range where you hunted, and while he and Karlach had suffered several minor injuries before winning out, you took a blow far more damaging. One of the orcs had taken you by surprise and bludgeoned you in the side of the head with its club before gaining the upper hand and stepping down hard on your ribs.

He'd been focused on the orc in front of him until he heard the crunch. The sound was so grotesquely familiar to him that time nearly stopped as he swiveled his head in your direction. No. You lay flat on your back, your body bent in several unnatural directions, as the orc stood over you triumphantly, raising its club to finish the job. Your head lolled to the side and your unharmed eye met his and he shuddered, his breath catching in his throat. You didn't look scared. You didn't even look angry. He knew that expression. He'd seen it on your beautiful face as the moon bathed you in ethereal glow, the night he confessed his feelings to you. The night he surrendered his mask of flippant indifference and let you see him for who… for what he truly is. You had looked at him with such- such love, that night, so much that he thought he wouldn't be able to bear it.

But now? Now he would trade the air in his lungs and every day of freedom he had left to be there with you on that night again. He would rather surrender himself to his master than watch you die because of him, and still look at him with love.

It wasn't even him that had managed to save you in the end. It was Karlach, who had all but rammed the orc off of the top of you before gathering you up in her arms and running back towards camp. He had stood in a useless, pitiful daze, and had your tiefling companion not been there to end the last of the orcs before saving you, he would have been quick to join you at death's door. He remained useless as he followed Karlach back to the camp where Wyll, Shadowheart and Gale rushed off in the directions of their tents to see if they had something that could help you. Lae'zel had let out a bloodthirsty cry upon seeing you, demanding the blood of whoever or whatever had attacked you. Once Karlach told her the story, she posted herself at the edge of the campground, circling to prevent any more surprises.

Everyone was doing something. Everyone but him. All he could do was sit beside you with his cool hands running over your body, trying desperately to cool you down. Your face was marred nearly beyond recognition, and the blood from your internal wounds had begun to pool just below the surface of the skin on your abdomen, creating angry violet spots all over your soft and beautiful body; the body he had held bare against his not too long ago; the heart he promised to love as wholly and genuinely as he was capable, beating far too weakly inside your chest. Guilt twisted further inside of him. If only he was strong, like you believed he was. If only Cazador didn't haunt his every moment. If only he was truly as free as you made him feel. Perhaps if he was better, stronger, more, he wouldn't have said those things to you. He wouldn't have hurt you, and instead of a sleepless night alone, you could have been wrapped up in him.

But he was foolish; weak; less. And he let his pain seep out like a fresh wound onto you, and now you suffered for it. Up until this very moment he had been under the false illusion that being sent back to Cazador was the worst fate he could possibly endure. How many times did he have to be proven wrong by you before he would listen?! Losing you was the fear he never expected. Losing you was far worse than losing himself, and the realization of that only deepened the already gripping dread in his heart.

"Please," he whispered softly, leaning over your unmoving form. "Please, gods, stay alive. Even if you hate me forever, please stay alive. Please." His voice cracked as a tear rolled down his cheek and collided with yours. His body trembled as he prayed to gods he wasn't even sure he believed in, wishing for a miracle he didn't really think could happen. What would he do without you? He always insisted that he was his own person, but… was he? Or had he just traded one master for another; the first a master of his body, and the second a master of his heart?

#astarion #astarion baldurs gate #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion angst #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction

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etherealrin · 5 months ago

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♬⋆.˚ intro: summer

warnings: none // wc: 724

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:00 TRACKLIST: next.

itoshi rin sighs as he clicks the post button, slumping back onto his bed. his obsidian black electric guitar lays neglected in the corner of his room, still hooked up to the amplifier. his headphones are still plugged into his dimly glowing computer, keyboard still connected, and around four unreleased tracks remained rotting in his files.

he had been looking forward to this break all year, finally out of school—where he could stay up late watching horror flicks with no plans for tomorrow. but rin wonders if he’ll be able to enjoy his three months of summer vacation at all, staring at the pitch darkness of midnight outside his open window. the constant buzzing from his phone, screen alight with thousands of confused replies, isn’t helping his worsening mood.

but he convinces himself it’s better this way, better for him to give up this useless little hobby now; he had more pressing matters to focus on. because that’s what sae had meant, what his words echoed before he left for spain, right?

“you should just quit. it won’t get you anywhere,” he’d said as he headed off for law school in spain.

hyprocite: the only word rin can think of to describe it all. wasn't he the one who encouraged me in the first place?

he manages to drift into a dreamless sleep, phone set to do not disturb, tossing and turning while the quiet june night passed on. it was calm and unperturbed, until a loud crash awoke him. the sound, coming from outside of rin’s house, was a screech of metallic cries. it was eerie, unsettling and only served to amplify his restlessness.

now awake, the soft breeze blowing through his room reminds rin that he had left his windows open, and really, he should close them before he catches a cold. so he pulls back the flimsy black blinds, and his heart drops at the scene he’s greeted with.

it’s haunting yet beautiful; you’re crouched over the sidewalk, illuminated by the pale moonlight, you look like a ghost from his past. the way your fingers trace over the broken electric guitar, a tear slipping down your cheek, you remind rin of how he used to be.

rin’s sure that he’s never seen you before, but something stirs inside him; recognition. you two are the same, aren’t you? he hates it, hates how he feels bad for you as you sit there in mourning, though he just swore never to play the guitar again. he wasn’t one to sympathize, but there was just this inescapable pull to you, magnetizing and alluring.

against all better judgement, rin finds himself heading out his door, in the quiet of the early morning, when the sky is still a bleak gray and the birds aren’t yet singing. everything is wrong; rin was sure he swore off music, passion, even his own happiness. he shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be approaching you still huddled over the broken instrument. as he draws closer and closer, rin hears a faint echo of that melancholic melody, one he knows too well.

it’s almost deja vu as he stares at it, the fender damaged beyond repair; hasn’t he seen this sight more than once, that night where it all went wrong?

“broken guitar?” rin asks, stating all the obvious. it's silent, completely still except for him and you.

“yeah,” you sniffle, looking up. your eyes glimmer with tears and it makes rin’s chest ache. he knows how it feels, too. “i just moved here, and the movers dropped it.”

“i…” he trails off, unsure if he really wants to do this. but he’s already out of his house, on the street here with you, so he might as well. “i live right there.” he points to his home, a squarish blue two-story. “i can probably get you a new one tomorrow, if you want to.” rin hurriedly adds the last part.

you look like you’re going to cry again, which startles rin. had he said something wrong?

“that’s really nice of you,” you finally say, standing up. “i’ll hold you to that offer?” your words phrased like a question, unsure. rin takes the moment to study you further: there’s a delicate sadness in your eyes, and it gets his heart thumping erratically. how odd.

“just knock tomorrow morning, or afternoon, i’ll be home.”

itoshi rin’s uneventful summer vacation might turn out to be something more after all.

ılılılılılılı TRACKLIST. ALL ALBUMS.

open taglist! comment for add. @levihanmyotp @megumismyhusband @shumeow-h @suksatoru @kaz-0e @chuurinnie @lukapurin @luvrrin @yuukiririix @lovelymeguru @jxst0yuukii @idexmids @vellichorira @venusss-ss @mixolya @x3nafix @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @ashiraismyname @ihe4rtme

#音 ; until the very last note #凛 ; rin x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #itoshi rin #rin x reader #rin x you #itoshi rin x reader #rin blue lock #rin #bllk rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x #blue lock x you

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covid-safer-hotties · 10 months ago

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SARS-CoV-2 is now circulating out of control worldwide. The only major limitation on transmission is the immune environment the virus faces. The disease it causes, COVID-19, is now a risk faced by most people as part of daily life.

While some are better than others, no national or regional government is making serious efforts towards infection prevention and control, and it seems likely this laissez-faire policy will continue for the foreseeable future. The social, political, and economic movements that worked to achieve this mass infection environment can rejoice at their success.

Those schooled in public health, immunology or working on the front line of healthcare provision know we face an uncertain future, and are aware the implications of recent events stretch far beyond SARS-CoV-2. The shifts that have taken place in attitudes and public health policy will likely damage a key pillar that forms the basis of modern civilized society, one that was built over the last two centuries; the expectation of a largely uninterrupted upwards trajectory of ever-improving health and quality of life, largely driven by the reduction and elimination of infectious diseases that plagued humankind for thousands of years. In the last three years, that trajectory has reversed.

The upward trajectory of public health in the last two centuries Control of infectious disease has historically been a priority for all societies. Quarantine has been in common use since at least the Bronze Age and has been the key method for preventing the spread of infectious diseases ever since. The word “quarantine” itself derives from the 40-day isolation period for ships and crews that was implemented in Europe during the late Middle Ages to prevent the introduction of bubonic plague epidemics into cities.

Modern public health traces its roots to the middle of the 19th century thanks to converging scientific developments in early industrial societies:

The early industrial era generated horrendous workplace and living conditions for working class populations living in large industrial cities, dramatically reducing life expectancy and quality of life (life expectancy at birth in key industrial cities in the middle of the 19th century was often in the low 30s or even lower). This in turn resulted in a recognition that such environmental factors affect human health and life spans. The long and bitter struggle for workers’ rights in subsequent decades resulted in much improved working conditions, workplace safety regulations, and general sanitation, and brought sharp increases in life expectancy and quality of life, which in turn had positive impacts on productivity and wealth.

Florence Nightingale reemphasized the role of ventilation in healing and preventing illness, ‘The very first canon of nursing… : keep the air he breathes as pure as the external air, without chilling him,’ a maxim that influenced building design at the time.

These trends continued in the 20th century, greatly helped by further technological and scientific advances. Many diseases – diphtheria, pertussis, hepatitis B, polio, measles, mumps, rubella, etc. – became things of the past thanks to near-universal highly effective vaccinations, while others that used to be common are no longer of such concern for highly developed countries in temperate climates – malaria, typhus, typhoid, leprosy, cholera, tuberculosis, and many others – primarily thanks to improvements in hygiene and the implementation of non-pharmaceutical measures for their containment.

Furthermore, the idea that infectious diseases should not just be reduced, but permanently eliminated altogether began to be put into practice in the second half of the 20th century on a global level, and much earlier locally. These programs were based on the obvious consideration that if an infectious agent is driven to extinction, the incalculable damage to people’s health and the overall economy by a persisting and indefinite disease burden will also be eliminated.

The ambition of local elimination grew into one of global eradication for smallpox, which was successfully eliminated from the human population in the 1970s (this had already been achieved locally in the late 19th century by some countries), after a heroic effort to find and contain the last remaining infectious individuals. The other complete success was rinderpest in cattle9,10, globally eradicated in the early 21st century.

When the COVID-19 pandemic started, global eradication programs were very close to succeeding for two other diseases – polio and dracunculiasis. Eradication is also globally pursued for other diseases, such as yaws, and regionally for many others, e.g. lymphatic filariasis, onchocerciasis, measles and rubella. The most challenging diseases are those that have an external reservoir outside the human population, especially if they are insect borne, and in particular those carried by mosquitos. Malaria is the primary example, but despite these difficulties, eradication of malaria has been a long-standing global public health goal and elimination has been achieved in temperate regions of the globe, even though it involved the ecologically destructive widespread application of polluting chemical pesticides to reduce the populations of the vectors. Elimination is also a public goal for other insect borne diseases such as trypanosomiasis.

In parallel with pursuing maximal reduction and eventual eradication of the burden of existing endemic infectious diseases, humanity has also had to battle novel infectious diseases40, which have been appearing at an increased rate over recent decades. Most of these diseases are of zoonotic origin, and the rate at which they are making the jump from wildlife to humans is accelerating, because of the increased encroachment on wildlife due to expanding human populations and physical infrastructure associated with human activity, the continued destruction of wild ecosystems that forces wild animals towards closer human contact, the booming wildlife trade, and other such trends.

Because it is much easier to stop an outbreak when it is still in its early stages of spreading through the population than to eradicate an endemic pathogen, the governing principle has been that no emerging infectious disease should be allowed to become endemic. This goal has been pursued reasonably successfully and without controversy for many decades.

The most famous newly emerging pathogens were the filoviruses (Ebola, Marburg), the SARS and MERS coronaviruses, and paramyxoviruses like Nipah. These gained fame because of their high lethality and potential for human-to-human spread, but they were merely the most notable of many examples.

Such epidemics were almost always aggressively suppressed. Usually, these were small outbreaks, and because highly pathogenic viruses such as Ebola cause very serious sickness in practically all infected people, finding and isolating the contagious individuals is a manageable task. The largest such epidemic was the 2013-16 Ebola outbreak in West Africa, when a filovirus spread widely in major urban centers for the first time. Containment required a wartime-level mobilization, but that was nevertheless achieved, even though there were nearly 30,000 infections and more than 11,000 deaths.

SARS was also contained and eradicated from the human population back in 2003-04, and the same happened every time MERS made the jump from camels to humans, as well as when there were Nipah outbreaks in Asia.

The major counterexample of a successful establishment in the human population of a novel highly pathogenic virus is HIV. HIV is a retrovirus, and as such it integrates into the host genome and is thus nearly impossible to eliminate from the body and to eradicate from the population (unless all infected individuals are identified and prevented from infecting others for the rest of their lives). However, HIV is not an example of the containment principle being voluntarily abandoned as the virus had made its zoonotic jump and established itself many decades before its eventual discovery and recognition, and long before the molecular tools that could have detected and potentially fully contained it existed.

Still, despite all these containment success stories, the emergence of a new pathogen with pandemic potential was a well understood and frequently discussed threat, although influenza viruses rather than coronaviruses were often seen as the most likely culprit. The eventual appearance of SARS-CoV-2 should therefore not have been a huge surprise, and should have been met with a full mobilization of the technical tools and fundamental public health principles developed over the previous decades.

The ecological context One striking property of many emerging pathogens is how many of them come from bats. While the question of whether bats truly harbor more viruses than other mammals in proportion to their own species diversity (which is the second highest within mammals after rodents) is not fully settled yet, many novel viruses do indeed originate from bats, and the ecological and physiological characteristics of bats are highly relevant for understanding the situation that Homo sapiens finds itself in right now.

Another startling property of bats and their viruses is how highly pathogenic to humans (and other mammals) many bat viruses are, while bats themselves are not much affected (only rabies is well established to cause serious harm to bats). Why bats seem to carry so many such pathogens, and how they have adapted so well to coexisting with them, has been a long-standing puzzle and although we do not have a definitive answer, some general trends have become clear.

These are characteristics that might have on one hand facilitated the evolution of a considerable set of viruses associated with bat populations. In order for a non-latent respiratory virus to maintain itself, a minimal population size is necessary. For example, it is hypothesized that measles requires a minimum population size of 250-300,000 individuals. And bats have existed in a state of high population densities for a very long time, which might explain the high diversity of viruses that they carry. In addition, the long lifespan of many bat species means that their viruses may have to evolve strategies to overcome adaptive immunity and frequently reinfect previously infected individuals as opposed to the situation in short-lived species in which populations turn over quickly (with immunologically naive individuals replacing the ones that die out).

On the other hand, the selective pressure that these viruses have exerted on bats may have resulted in the evolution of various resistance and/or tolerance mechanisms in bats themselves, which in turn have driven the evolution of counter strategies in their viruses, leading them to be highly virulent for other species. Bats certainly appear to be physiologically more tolerant towards viruses that are otherwise highly virulent to other mammals. Several explanations for this adaptation have been proposed, chief among them a much more powerful innate immunity and a tolerance towards infections that does not lead to the development of the kind of hyperinflammatory reactions observed in humans, the high body temperature of bats in flight, and others.

The notable strength of bat innate immunity is often explained by the constitutively active interferon response that has been reported for some bat species. It is possible that this is not a universal characteristic of all bats – only a few species have been studied – but it provides a very attractive mechanism for explaining both how bats prevent the development of severe systemic viral infections in their bodies and how their viruses in turn would have evolved powerful mechanisms to silence the interferon response, making them highly pathogenic for other mammals.

The tolerance towards infection is possibly rooted in the absence of some components of the signaling cascades leading to hyperinflammatory reactions and the dampened activity of others.

An obvious ecological parallel can be drawn between bats and humans – just as bats live in dense colonies, so now do modern humans. And we may now be at a critical point in the history of our species, in which our ever-increasing ecological footprint has brought us in close contact with bats in a way that was much rarer in the past. Our population is connected in ways that were previously unimaginable. A novel virus can make the zoonotic jump somewhere in Southeast Asia and a carrier of it can then be on the other side of the globe a mere 24-hours later, having encountered thousands of people in airports and other mass transit systems. As a result, bat pathogens are now being transferred from bat populations to the human population in what might prove to be the second major zoonotic spillover event after the one associated with domestication of livestock and pets a few thousand years ago.

Unfortunately for us, our physiology is not suited to tolerate these new viruses. Bats have adapted to live with them over many millions of years. Humans have not undergone the same kind of adaptation and cannot do so on any timescale that will be of use to those living now, nor to our immediate descendants.

Simply put, humans are not bats, and the continuous existence and improvement of what we now call “civilization” depends on the same basic public health and infectious disease control that saw life expectancy in high-income countries more than double to 85 years. This is a challenge that will only increase in the coming years, because the trends that are accelerating the rate of zoonotic transfer of pathogens are certain to persist.

Given this context, it is as important now to maintain the public health principle that no new dangerous pathogens should be allowed to become endemic and that all novel infectious disease outbreaks must be suppressed as it ever was.

The death of public health and the end of epidemiological comfort It is also in this context that the real gravity of what has happened in the last three years emerges.

After HIV, SARS-CoV-2 is now the second most dangerous infectious disease agent that is 'endemic' to the human population on a global scale. And yet not only was it allowed to become endemic, but mass infection was outright encouraged, including by official public health bodies in numerous countries.

The implications of what has just happened have been missed by most, so let’s spell them out explicitly.

We need to be clear why containment of SARS-CoV-2 was actively sabotaged and eventually abandoned. It has absolutely nothing to do with the “impossibility” of achieving it. In fact, the technical problem of containing even a stealthily spreading virus such as SARS-CoV-2 is fully solved, and that solution was successfully applied in practice for years during the pandemic.

The list of countries that completely snuffed out outbreaks, often multiple times, includes Australia, New Zealand, Singapore, Taiwan, Vietnam, Thailand, Bhutan, Cuba, China, and a few others, with China having successfully contained hundreds of separate outbreaks, before finally giving up in late 2022.

The algorithm for containment is well established – passively break transmission chains through the implementation of nonpharmaceutical interventions (NPIs) such as limiting human contacts, high quality respirator masks, indoor air filtration and ventilation, and others, while aggressively hunting down active remaining transmission chains through traditional contact tracing and isolation methods combined with the powerful new tool of population-scale testing.

Understanding of airborne transmission and institution of mitigation measures, which have heretofore not been utilized in any country, will facilitate elimination, even with the newer, more transmissible variants. Any country that has the necessary resources (or is provided with them) can achieve full containment within a few months. In fact, currently this would be easier than ever before because of the accumulated widespread multiple recent exposures to the virus in the population suppressing the effective reproduction number (Re). For the last 18 months or so we have been seeing a constant high plateau of cases with undulating waves, but not the major explosions of infections with Re reaching 3-4 that were associated with the original introduction of the virus in 2020 and with the appearance of the first Omicron variants in late 2021.

It would be much easier to use NPIs to drive Re to much below 1 and keep it there until elimination when starting from Re around 1.2-1.3 than when it was over 3, and this moment should be used, before another radically new serotype appears and takes us back to those even more unpleasant situations. This is not a technical problem, but one of political and social will. As long as leadership misunderstands or pretends to misunderstand the link between increased mortality, morbidity and poorer economic performance and the free transmission of SARS-CoV-2, the impetus will be lacking to take the necessary steps to contain this damaging virus.

Political will is in short supply because powerful economic and corporate interests have been pushing policymakers to let the virus spread largely unchecked through the population since the very beginning of the pandemic. The reasons are simple. First, NPIs hurt general economic activity, even if only in the short term, resulting in losses on balance sheets. Second, large-scale containment efforts of the kind we only saw briefly in the first few months of the pandemic require substantial governmental support for all the people who need to pause their economic activity for the duration of effort. Such an effort also requires large-scale financial investment in, for example, contact tracing and mass testing infrastructure and providing high-quality masks. In an era dominated by laissez-faire economic dogma, this level of state investment and organization would have set too many unacceptable precedents, so in many jurisdictions it was fiercely resisted, regardless of the consequences for humanity and the economy.

None of these social and economic predicaments have been resolved. The unofficial alliance between big business and dangerous pathogens that was forged in early 2020 has emerged victorious and greatly strengthened from its battle against public health, and is poised to steamroll whatever meager opposition remains for the remainder of this, and future pandemics.

The long-established principles governing how we respond to new infectious diseases have now completely changed – the precedent has been established that dangerous emerging pathogens will no longer be contained, but instead permitted to ‘ease’ into widespread circulation. The intent to “let it rip” in the future is now being openly communicated. With this change in policy comes uncertainty about acceptable lethality. Just how bad will an infectious disease have to be to convince any government to mobilize a meaningful global public health response?

We have some clues regarding that issue from what happened during the initial appearance of the Omicron “variant” (which was really a new serotype) of SARS-CoV-2. Despite some experts warning that a vaccine-only approach would be doomed to fail, governments gambled everything on it. They were then faced with the brute fact of viral evolution destroying their strategy when a new serotype emerged against which existing vaccines had little effect in terms of blocking transmission. The reaction was not to bring back NPIs but to give up, seemingly regardless of the consequences.

Critically, those consequences were unknown when the policy of no intervention was adopted within days of the appearance of Omicron. All previous new SARS-CoV-2 variants had been deadlier than the original Wuhan strain, with the eventually globally dominant Delta variant perhaps as much as 4× as deadly. Omicron turned out to be the exception, but again, that was not known with any certainty when it was allowed to run wild through populations. What would have happened if it had followed the same pattern as Delta?

In the USA, for example, the worst COVID-19 wave was the one in the winter of 2020-21, at the peak of which at least 3,500 people were dying daily (the real number was certainly higher because of undercounting due to lack of testing and improper reporting). The first Omicron BA.1 wave saw the second-highest death tolls, with at least 2,800 dying per day at its peak. Had Omicron been as intrinsically lethal as Delta, we could have easily seen a 4-5× higher peak than January 2021, i.e. as many as 12–15,000 people dying a day. Given that we only had real data on Omicron’s intrinsic lethality after the gigantic wave of infections was unleashed onto the population, we have to conclude that 12–15,000 dead a day is now a threshold that will not force the implementation of serious NPIs for the next problematic COVID-19 serotype.

Logically, it follows that it is also a threshold that will not result in the implementation of NPIs for any other emerging pathogens either. Because why should SARS-CoV-2 be special?

We can only hope that we will never see the day when such an epidemic hits us but experience tells us such optimism is unfounded. The current level of suffering caused by COVID-19 has been completely normalized even though such a thing was unthinkable back in 2019. Populations are largely unaware of the long-term harms the virus is causing to those infected, of the burden on healthcare, increased disability, mortality and reduced life expectancy. Once a few even deadlier outbreaks have been shrugged off by governments worldwide, the baseline of what is considered “acceptable” will just gradually move up and even more unimaginable losses will eventually enter the “acceptable” category. There can be no doubt, from a public health perspective, we are regressing.

We had a second, even more worrying real-life example of what the future holds with the global spread of the MPX virus (formerly known as “monkeypox” and now called “Mpox”) in 2022. MPX is a close relative to the smallpox VARV virus and is endemic to Central and Western Africa, where its natural hosts are mostly various rodent species, but on occasions it infects humans too, with the rate of zoonotic transfer increasing over recent decades. It has usually been characterized by fairly high mortality – the CFR (Case Fatality Rate) has been ∼3.6% for the strain that circulates in Nigeria and ∼10% for the one in the Congo region, i.e. much worse than SARS-CoV-2. In 2022, an unexpected global MPX outbreak developed, with tens of thousands of confirmed cases in dozens of countries. Normally, this would be a huge cause for alarm, for several reasons.

First, MPX itself is a very dangerous disease. Second, universal smallpox vaccination ended many decades ago with the success of the eradication program, leaving the population born after that completely unprotected. Third, lethality in orthopoxviruses is, in fact, highly variable – VARV itself had a variola major strain, with as much as ∼30% CFR, and a less deadly variola minor variety with CFR ∼1%, and there was considerable variation within variola major too. It also appears that high pathogenicity often evolves from less pathogenic strains through reductive evolution - the loss of certain genes something that can happen fairly easily, may well have happened repeatedly in the past, and may happen again in the future, a scenario that has been repeatedly warned about for decades. For these reasons, it was unthinkable that anyone would just shrug off a massive MPX outbreak – it is already bad enough as it is, but allowing it to become endemic means it can one day evolve towards something functionally equivalent to smallpox in its impact.

And yet that is exactly what happened in 2022 – barely any measures were taken to contain the outbreak, and countries simply reclassified MPX out of the “high consequence infectious disease” category in order to push the problem away, out of sight and out of mind. By chance, it turned out that this particular outbreak did not spark a global pandemic, and it was also characterized, for poorly understood reasons, by an unusually low CFR, with very few people dying. But again, that is not the information that was available at the start of the outbreak, when in a previous, interventionist age of public health, resources would have been mobilized to stamp it out in its infancy, but, in the age of laissez-faire, were not. MPX is now circulating around the world and represents a future threat of uncontrolled transmission resulting in viral adaptation to highly efficient human-to-human spread combined with much greater disease severity.

Rat climbing a ship's rigging. Modern public health traces its roots to the middle of the 19th century thanks to converging scientific developments in early industrial societies:

The germ theory of diseases was firmly established in the mid-19th century, in particular after Louis Pasteur disproved the spontaneous generation hypothesis. If diseases spread through transmission chains between individual humans or from the environment/animals to humans, then it follows that those transmission chains can be interrupted, and the spread stopped. The science of epidemiology appeared, its birth usually associated with the 1854 Broad Street cholera outbreak in London during which the British physician John Snow identified contaminated water as the source of cholera, pointing to improved sanitation as the way to stop cholera epidemics. Vaccination technology began to develop, initially against smallpox, and the first mandatory smallpox vaccination campaigns began, starting in England in the 1850s. The early industrial era generated horrendous workplace and living conditions for working class populations living in large industrial cities, dramatically reducing life expectancy and quality of life (life expectancy at birth in key industrial cities in the middle of the 19th century was often in the low 30s or even lower2). This in turn resulted in a recognition that such environmental factors affect human health and life spans. The long and bitter struggle for workers’ rights in subsequent decades resulted in much improved working conditions, workplace safety regulations, and general sanitation, and brought sharp increases in life expectancy and quality of life, which in turn had positive impacts on productivity and wealth. Florence Nightingale reemphasized the role of ventilation in healing and preventing illness, ‘The very first canon of nursing… : keep the air he breathes as pure as the external air, without chilling him,’ a maxim that influenced building design at the time. These trends continued in the 20th century, greatly helped by further technological and scientific advances. Many diseases – diphtheria, pertussis, hepatitis B, polio, measles, mumps, rubella, etc. – became things of the past thanks to near-universal highly effective vaccinations, while others that used to be common are no longer of such concern for highly developed countries in temperate climates – malaria, typhus, typhoid, leprosy, cholera, tuberculosis, and many others – primarily thanks to improvements in hygiene and the implementation of non-pharmaceutical measures for their containment.

Furthermore, the idea that infectious diseases should not just be reduced, but permanently eliminated altogether began to be put into practice in the second half of the 20th century3-5 on a global level, and much earlier locally. These programs were based on the obvious consideration that if an infectious agent is driven to extinction, the incalculable damage to people’s health and the overall economy by a persisting and indefinite disease burden will also be eliminated.

The ambition of local elimination grew into one of global eradication for smallpox, which was successfully eliminated from the human population in the 1970s6 (this had already been achieved locally in the late 19th century by some countries), after a heroic effort to find and contain the last remaining infectious individuals7,8. The other complete success was rinderpest in cattle9,10, globally eradicated in the early 21st century.

When the COVID-19 pandemic started, global eradication programs were very close to succeeding for two other diseases – polio11,12 and dracunculiasis13. Eradication is also globally pursued for other diseases, such as yaws14,15, and regionally for many others, e.g. lymphatic filariasis16,17, onchocerciasis18,19, measles and rubella20-30. The most challenging diseases are those that have an external reservoir outside the human population, especially if they are insect borne, and in particular those carried by mosquitos. Malaria is the primary example, but despite these difficulties, eradication of malaria has been a long-standing global public health goal31-33 and elimination has been achieved in temperate regions of the globe34,35, even though it involved the ecologically destructive widespread application of polluting chemical pesticides36,37 to reduce the populations of the vectors. Elimination is also a public goal for other insect borne diseases such as trypanosomiasis38,39.

In parallel with pursuing maximal reduction and eventual eradication of the burden of existing endemic infectious diseases, humanity has also had to battle novel infectious diseases40, which have been appearing at an increased rate over recent decades41-43. Most of these diseases are of zoonotic origin, and the rate at which they are making the jump from wildlife to humans is accelerating, because of the increased encroachment on wildlife due to expanding human populations and physical infrastructure associated with human activity, the continued destruction of wild ecosystems that forces wild animals towards closer human contact, the booming wildlife trade, and other such trends.

The most famous newly emerging pathogens were the filoviruses (Ebola44-46, Marburg47,48), the SARS and MERS coronaviruses, and paramyxoviruses like Nipah49,50. These gained fame because of their high lethality and potential for human-to-human spread, but they were merely the most notable of many examples.

Pigs in close proximity to humans. Such epidemics were almost always aggressively suppressed. Usually, these were small outbreaks, and because highly pathogenic viruses such as Ebola cause very serious sickness in practically all infected people, finding and isolating the contagious individuals is a manageable task. The largest such epidemic was the 2013-16 Ebola outbreak in West Africa, when a filovirus spread widely in major urban centers for the first time. Containment required a wartime-level mobilization, but that was nevertheless achieved, even though there were nearly 30,000 infections and more than 11,000 deaths51.

The major counterexample of a successful establishment in the human population of a novel highly pathogenic virus is HIV. HIV is a retrovirus, and as such it integrates into the host genome and is thus nearly impossible to eliminate from the body and to eradicate from the population52 (unless all infected individuals are identified and prevented from infecting others for the rest of their lives). However, HIV is not an example of the containment principle being voluntarily abandoned as the virus had made its zoonotic jump and established itself many decades before its eventual discovery53 and recognition54-56, and long before the molecular tools that could have detected and potentially fully contained it existed.

Still, despite all these containment success stories, the emergence of a new pathogen with pandemic potential was a well understood and frequently discussed threat57-60, although influenza viruses rather than coronaviruses were often seen as the most likely culprit61-65. The eventual appearance of SARS-CoV-2 should therefore not have been a huge surprise, and should have been met with a full mobilization of the technical tools and fundamental public health principles developed over the previous decades.

The ecological context One striking property of many emerging pathogens is how many of them come from bats. While the question of whether bats truly harbor more viruses than other mammals in proportion to their own species diversity (which is the second highest within mammals after rodents) is not fully settled yet66-69, many novel viruses do indeed originate from bats, and the ecological and physiological characteristics of bats are highly relevant for understanding the situation that Homo sapiens finds itself in right now.

Group of bats roosting in a cave. Another startling property of bats and their viruses is how highly pathogenic to humans (and other mammals) many bat viruses are, while bats themselves are not much affected (only rabies is well established to cause serious harm to bats68). Why bats seem to carry so many such pathogens, and how they have adapted so well to coexisting with them, has been a long-standing puzzle and although we do not have a definitive answer, some general trends have become clear.

Bats are the only truly flying mammals and have been so for many millions of years. Flying has resulted in a number of specific adaptations, one of them being the tolerance towards a very high body temperature (often on the order of 42-43ºC). Bats often live in huge colonies, literally touching each other, and, again, have lived in conditions of very high density for millions of years. Such densities are rare among mammals and are certainly not the native condition of humans (human civilization and our large dense cities are a very recent phenomenon on evolutionary time scales). Bats are also quite long-lived for such small mammals70-71 – some fruit bats can live more than 35 years and even small cave dwelling species can live about a decade. These are characteristics that might have on one hand facilitated the evolution of a considerable set of viruses associated with bat populations. In order for a non-latent respiratory virus to maintain itself, a minimal population size is necessary. For example, it is hypothesized that measles requires a minimum population size of 250-300,000 individuals72. And bats have existed in a state of high population densities for a very long time, which might explain the high diversity of viruses that they carry. In addition, the long lifespan of many bat species means that their viruses may have to evolve strategies to overcome adaptive immunity and frequently reinfect previously infected individuals as opposed to the situation in short-lived species in which populations turn over quickly (with immunologically naive individuals replacing the ones that die out).

On the other hand, the selective pressure that these viruses have exerted on bats may have resulted in the evolution of various resistance and/or tolerance mechanisms in bats themselves, which in turn have driven the evolution of counter strategies in their viruses, leading them to be highly virulent for other species. Bats certainly appear to be physiologically more tolerant towards viruses that are otherwise highly virulent to other mammals. Several explanations for this adaptation have been proposed, chief among them a much more powerful innate immunity and a tolerance towards infections that does not lead to the development of the kind of hyperinflammatory reactions observed in humans73-75, the high body temperature of bats in flight, and others.

The notable strength of bat innate immunity is often explained by the constitutively active interferon response that has been reported for some bat species76-78. It is possible that this is not a universal characteristic of all bats79 – only a few species have been studied – but it provides a very attractive mechanism for explaining both how bats prevent the development of severe systemic viral infections in their bodies and how their viruses in turn would have evolved powerful mechanisms to silence the interferon response, making them highly pathogenic for other mammals.

The tolerance towards infection is possibly rooted in the absence of some components of the signaling cascades leading to hyperinflammatory reactions and the dampened activity of others80.

Map of scheduled airline traffic around the world, circa June 2009 Map of scheduled airline traffic around the world. Credit: Jpatokal An obvious ecological parallel can be drawn between bats and humans – just as bats live in dense colonies, so now do modern humans. And we may now be at a critical point in the history of our species, in which our ever-increasing ecological footprint has brought us in close contact with bats in a way that was much rarer in the past. Our population is connected in ways that were previously unimaginable. A novel virus can make the zoonotic jump somewhere in Southeast Asia and a carrier of it can then be on the other side of the globe a mere 24-hours later, having encountered thousands of people in airports and other mass transit systems. As a result, bat pathogens are now being transferred from bat populations to the human population in what might prove to be the second major zoonotic spillover event after the one associated with domestication of livestock and pets a few thousand years ago.

The death of public health and the end of epidemiological comfort It is also in this context that the real gravity of what has happened in the last three years emerges.

The implications of what has just happened have been missed by most, so let’s spell them out explicitly.

Oklahoma’s Strategic National Stockpile. Credit: DVIDS Understanding of airborne transmission and institution of mitigation measures, which have heretofore not been utilized in any country, will facilitate elimination, even with the newer, more transmissible variants. Any country that has the necessary resources (or is provided with them) can achieve full containment within a few months. In fact, currently this would be easier than ever before because of the accumulated widespread multiple recent exposures to the virus in the population suppressing the effective reproduction number (Re). For the last 18 months or so we have been seeing a constant high plateau of cases with undulating waves, but not the major explosions of infections with Re reaching 3-4 that were associated with the original introduction of the virus in 2020 and with the appearance of the first Omicron variants in late 2021.

The long-established principles governing how we respond to new infectious diseases have now completely changed – the precedent has been established that dangerous emerging pathogens will no longer be contained, but instead permitted to ‘ease’ into widespread circulation. The intent to “let it rip” in the future is now being openly communicated84. With this change in policy comes uncertainty about acceptable lethality. Just how bad will an infectious disease have to be to convince any government to mobilize a meaningful global public health response?

We have some clues regarding that issue from what happened during the initial appearance of the Omicron “variant” (which was really a new serotype85,86) of SARS-CoV-2. Despite some experts warning that a vaccine-only approach would be doomed to fail, governments gambled everything on it. They were then faced with the brute fact of viral evolution destroying their strategy when a new serotype emerged against which existing vaccines had little effect in terms of blocking transmission. The reaction was not to bring back NPIs but to give up, seemingly regardless of the consequences.

Critically, those consequences were unknown when the policy of no intervention was adopted within days of the appearance of Omicron. All previous new SARS-CoV-2 variants had been deadlier than the original Wuhan strain, with the eventually globally dominant Delta variant perhaps as much as 4× as deadly87. Omicron turned out to be the exception, but again, that was not known with any certainty when it was allowed to run wild through populations. What would have happened if it had followed the same pattern as Delta?

UK National Covid Memorial Wall. Credit: Dominic Alves Logically, it follows that it is also a threshold that will not result in the implementation of NPIs for any other emerging pathogens either. Because why should SARS-CoV-2 be special?

We had a second, even more worrying real-life example of what the future holds with the global spread of the MPX virus (formerly known as “monkeypox” and now called “Mpox”) in 2022. MPX is a close relative to the smallpox VARV virus and is endemic to Central and Western Africa, where its natural hosts are mostly various rodent species, but on occasions it infects humans too, with the rate of zoonotic transfer increasing over recent decades88. It has usually been characterized by fairly high mortality – the CFR (Case Fatality Rate) has been ∼3.6% for the strain that circulates in Nigeria and ∼10% for the one in the Congo region, i.e. much worse than SARS-CoV-2. In 2022, an unexpected global MPX outbreak developed, with tens of thousands of confirmed cases in dozens of countries89,90. Normally, this would be a huge cause for alarm, for several reasons.

First, MPX itself is a very dangerous disease. Second, universal smallpox vaccination ended many decades ago with the success of the eradication program, leaving the population born after that completely unprotected. Third, lethality in orthopoxviruses is, in fact, highly variable – VARV itself had a variola major strain, with as much as ∼30% CFR, and a less deadly variola minor variety with CFR ∼1%, and there was considerable variation within variola major too. It also appears that high pathogenicity often evolves from less pathogenic strains through reductive evolution - the loss of certain genes something that can happen fairly easily, may well have happened repeatedly in the past, and may happen again in the future, a scenario that has been repeatedly warned about for decades91,92. For these reasons, it was unthinkable that anyone would just shrug off a massive MPX outbreak – it is already bad enough as it is, but allowing it to become endemic means it can one day evolve towards something functionally equivalent to smallpox in its impact.

Colorized transmission electron micrograph of Mpox virus particles. Credit: NIAID And yet that is exactly what happened in 2022 – barely any measures were taken to contain the outbreak, and countries simply reclassified MPX out of the “high consequence infectious disease” category93 in order to push the problem away, out of sight and out of mind. By chance, it turned out that this particular outbreak did not spark a global pandemic, and it was also characterized, for poorly understood reasons, by an unusually low CFR, with very few people dying94,95. But again, that is not the information that was available at the start of the outbreak, when in a previous, interventionist age of public health, resources would have been mobilized to stamp it out in its infancy, but, in the age of laissez-faire, were not. MPX is now circulating around the world and represents a future threat of uncontrolled transmission resulting in viral adaptation to highly efficient human-to-human spread combined with much greater disease severity.

This is the previously unthinkable future we will live in from now on in terms of our approach to infectious disease.

What may be controlled instead is information. Another lesson of the pandemic is that if there is no testing and reporting of cases and deaths, a huge amount of real human suffering can be very successfully swept under the rug. Early in 2020, such practices – blatant denial that there was any virus in certain territories, outright faking of COVID-19 statistics, and even resorting to NPIs out of sheer desperation but under false pretense that it is not because of COVID-19 – were the domain of failed states and less developed dictatorships. But in 2023 most of the world has adopted such practices – testing is limited, reporting is infrequent, or even abandoned altogether – and there is no reason to expect this to change. Information control has replaced infection control.

After a while it will not even be possible to assess the impact of what is happening by evaluating excess mortality, which has been the one true measure not susceptible to various data manipulation tricks. As we get increasingly removed from the pre-COVID-19 baselines and the initial pandemic years are subsumed into the baseline for calculating excess mortality, excess deaths will simply disappear by the power of statistical magic. Interestingly, countries such as the UK, which has already incorporated two pandemic years in its five-year average, are still seeing excess deaths, which suggests the virus is an ongoing and growing problem.

It should also be stressed that this radical shift in our approach to emerging infectious diseases is probably only the beginning of wiping out the hard-fought public health gains of the last 150+ years. This should be gravely concerning to any individuals and institutions concerned with workers and citizens rights.

This shift is likely to impact existing eradication and elimination efforts. Will the final pushes be made to complete the various global eradication campaigns listed above? That may necessitate some serious effort involving NPIs and active public health measures, but how much appetite is there for such things after they have been now taken out of the toolkit for SARS-CoV-2?

We can also expect previously forgotten diseases to return where they have successfully been locally eradicated. We have to always remember that the diseases that we now control with universal childhood vaccinations have not been globally eradicated – they have disappeared from our lives because vaccination rates are high enough to maintain society as a whole above the disease elimination threshold, but were vaccination rates to slip, those diseases, such as measles, will return with a vengeance.

The anti-vaccine movement was already a serious problem prior to COVID-19, but it was given a gigantic boost with the ill-advised vaccine-only COVID-19 strategy. Governments and their nominal expert advisers oversold the effectiveness of imperfect first generation COVID-vaccines, and simultaneously minimized the harms of SARS-CoV-2, creating a reality gap which gave anti-vaccine rhetoric space to thrive. This is a huge topic to be explored separately. Here it will suffice to say that while anti-vaxxers were a fringe movement prior to the pandemic, “vaccination” in general is now a toxic idea in the minds of truly significant portions of the population. A logical consequence of that shift has been a significant decrease in vaccination coverage for other diseases as well as for COVID-19.

This is even more likely given the shift in attitudes towards children. Child labour, lack of education and large families were the hallmarks of earlier eras of poor public health, which were characterized by high birth-rates and high infant mortality. Attitudes changed dramatically over the course of the 20th century and wherever health and wealth increased, child mortality fell, and the transition was made to small families. Rarity increased perceived value and children’s wellbeing became a central concern for parents and carers. The arrival of COVID-19 changed that, with some governments, advisers, advocacy groups and parents insisting that children should be exposed freely to a Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome virus to ‘train’ their immune systems.

Infection, rather than vaccination, was the preferred route for many in public health in 2020, and still is in 2023, despite all that is known about this virus’s propensity to cause damage to all internal organs, the immune system, and the brain, and the unknowns of postinfectious sequelae. This is especially egregious in infants, whose naive immune status may be one of the reasons they have a relatively high hospitalization rate. Some commentators seek to justify the lack of protection for the elderly and vulnerable on a cost basis. We wonder what rationale can justify a lack of protection for newborns and infants, particularly in a healthcare setting, when experience of other viruses tells us children have better outcomes the later they are exposed to disease? If we are not prepared to protect children against a highly virulent SARS virus, why should we protect against others? We should expect a shift in public health attitudes, since ‘endemicity’ means there is no reason to see SARS-CoV-2 as something unique and exceptional.

We can also expect a general degradation of workplace safety protocols and standards, again reversing many decades of hard-fought gains. During COVID-19, aside from a few privileged groups who worked from home, people were herded back into their workplaces without minimal safety precautions such as providing respirators, and improving ventilation and indoor air quality, when a dangerous airborne pathogen was spreading.

Can we realistically expect existing safety precautions and regulations to survive after that precedent has been set? Can we expect public health bodies and regulatory agencies, whose job it is to enforce these standards, to fight for workplace safety given what they did during the pandemic? It is highly doubtful. After all, they stubbornly refused to admit that SARS-CoV-2 is airborne (even to this very day in fact – the World Health Organization’s infamous “FACT: #COVID19 is NOT airborne” Tweet from March 28 2020 is still up in its original form), and it is not hard to see why – implementing airborne precautions in workplaces, schools, and other public spaces would have resulted in a cost to employers and governments; a cost they could avoid if they simply denied they needed to take such precautions. But short-term thinking has resulted in long-term costs to those same organizations, through the staffing crisis, and the still-rising disability tsunami. The same principle applies to all other existing safety measures.

Worse, we have now entered the phase of abandoning respiratory precautions even in hospitals. The natural consequence of unmasked staff and patients, even those known to be SARS-CoV-2 positive, freely mixing in overcrowded hospitals is the rampant spread of hospital-acquired infections, often among some of the most vulnerable demographics. This was previously thought to be a bad thing. And what of the future? If nobody is taking any measures to stop one particular highly dangerous nosocomial infection, why would anyone care about all the others, which are often no easier to prevent? And if standards of care have slipped to such a low point with respect to COVID-19, why would anyone bother providing the best care possible for other conditions? This is a one-way feed-forward healthcare system degradation that will only continue.

Finally, the very intellectual foundations of the achievements of the last century and a half are eroding. Chief among these is the germ theory of infectious disease, by which transmission chains can be isolated and broken. The alternative theory, of spontaneous generation of pathogens, means there are no chains to be broken. Today, we are told that it is impossible to contain SARS-CoV-2 and we have to "just live with it,” as if germ theory no longer holds. The argument that the spread of SARS-CoV-2 to wildlife means that containment is impossible illustrates these contradictions further – SARS-CoV-2 came from wildlife, as did all other zoonotic infections, so how does the virus spilling back to wildlife change anything in terms of public health protocol? But if one has decided that from here on there will be no effort to break transmission chains because it is too costly for the privileged few in society, then excuses for that laissez-faire attitude will always be found.

And that does not bode well for the near- and medium-term future of the human species on planet Earth.

(Follow the link for more than 100 references and sources)

#mask up #covid #pandemic #covid 19 #wear a mask #public health #coronavirus #sars cov 2 #still coviding #wear a respirator

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lewismcqueen · 1 month ago

Text

you first.

lh44 x black!reader

part one | part two

bonus features! : director's cut | moodboard

summary: 'Thought I'd simmer down as I got older, can't shake the devil sitting on my shoulder, who...invited you?' wc: 2500~ a/n: finally writing the lewis hamilton band au of my dreams lol. this'll be another two-parter. Meaning...only two parts. Pls move accordingly <3 enjoy!

The venue you’re playing at tonight—the place where it all began—used to feel bigger.

It used to be a gaping maw filled with strange eyes that weren’t your friends’, and therefore more ready to judge. More willing to find fault. You got up there with nothing but your guitar, a college-ruled notebook full of lyrics, and unbridled ambition.

But then the venues got bigger, the audiences more eager as you realized that many of them had come to see you, no longer just a placeholder or opener for who they really wanted to see. That nervous little girl with heat-damaged ends and rectangular prescription glasses became a young woman who hid the nerves more convincingly, until her outfits got bolder and she started getting color in her braids when she visited the salon. Venues became festival stages, where your image is projected onto screens that are larger than life.

Now the venue feels small, but not cramped the way your bed gets before your parents realize they need to switch it out. No, the swaying phone flashlights and chorus of voices reciting your lyrics make it feel like coming back home. You smile as you strum the final chord on your guitar, and there’s a split second of silence as the last song comes to an end. They say it’s the silence after a note rings in the air that creates the magic. There’s a beat of it before the audience erupts in raucous applause.

You thank them, your voice hushed with reverence as your eyes scan the crowd. There’s not so many that you can’t at least try to remember every face, which is a nice change from a mass of bodies too far away to see beyond those lucky enough to get the front row.

There's a girl wearing an oversized band t-shirt, her teal-streaked fringe clinging to her forehead a little with sweat. Next to her is a tall man with a high-top fade and large wire frame glasses that remind you of the 80s. The guy next to him is a bit shorter, and of a lighter complexion. He wears a knit sweater in a deep, royal purple contrasted by a single silvery chain draped around his neck that glints in the low light. He has dreads that are tied up so that they hang stylishly over one side of his face.

Wide, brown eyes stare at you dead-on, his expression ambiguous in a way that unsettles you. Something like loss. Something like regret. Minus the beard, the guy’s face kinda reminds you of—

Wait. Wait. There’s no way it’s actually him.

You know that face from a long, long time ago. You know that face, because there was also a point in time where you couldn't escape it.

Recognition—sudden, bone-chilling recognition—colors your features before you tear your eyes away and exit the stage through the back. Your manager Jen is standing close by in her usual white tee and denim jeans, her curls slicked back into a bun. Her brows furrow as soon as she spots you.

“You good?” she asks, silver watch catching the stage lights that manage to filter through.

You nod, but the way you’re clutching the neck of your guitar says otherwise.

Because this isn’t really where it all began. Not exactly.

It began in your dad’s dirty garage, just wide enough and empty enough to fit a speaker and a drum set. Maybe even a mic stand. More importantly, it’s got enough room for yourself, Jennifer, Sebastian, and Lewis - a new kid from the UK that lived on an air base nearby. His dark hair is cropped short, and he looks at you like you’re already friends. Sebastian had introduced him the moment your last guitarist left, swearing up and down that the kid was practically the next Jimi Hendrix and could take his place easily.

The first thing that struck you about Lewis was that despite being the new kid in town with no more than one real friend, was that he was not a timid boy. Polite, sure, (maybe a little too polite - he insisted on firmly shaking everyone’s hand the day you met him), but he walked around in his white polo and blue jeans giving off the impression that he already belonged, and was just waiting for everyone else to get with the program. He waltzed through your garage like it was a second home, collar popped and all.

That’s why your eyes narrow when, not even two weeks in, Lewis mentions he can sing, and even makes some of his own music at home. A solo act in the making. He says it casually, but you have a feeling that he might be vying for your spot as frontman. Lewis seems like the type to want to be the center of attention.

“Sing a few bars for us then,” you chime in. You’re sitting on the guitar speaker with your chin in both hands, your voice saccharine with a smile that is all teeth. “You probably know a couple of our songs already. Let’s hear it!”

Lewis scratches the back of his neck, his ears reddening a bit. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him look bashful. He must think he’s being cute.

“I mean I’m not, like, Usher or anything. I can carry a note or two but—”

“Nah, don’t give me that,” you interrupt. “You look like you can sing your ass off. Give us a verse, maybe the song we did last week?”

The untitled song you’d practiced last week was tailor-made for you. You, with your endless riffs and power notes and belted choruses. Let’s see what this kid’s made of.

Lewis blinks, licking his lips nervously. “Well, alright.”

He makes his way over to the keyboard set up right by the speaker, and begins playing the main chords. How the hell did he memorize those after only hearing the song once? At any rate, the song is nearly unrecognizable when Lewis sings it. He is nearly all falsetto, his voice light as a breeze and clear as your neighbor’s crystal wind chimes. He’d make a stellar RnB heartthrob, but not a frontman for a rock band. The thought relieves you.

The three of you applaud at the end of it, Lewis shrugging it off with a lopsided grin.

Jennifer chirps, “Your voice is so pretty!

“Thanks, but I’m way better on the guitar.”

“You could add in some harmonies, though!” adds Sebastian. “We finally have two singers.”

You hop off the speaker and approach Lewis to clap him on the shoulder. The force of it makes him jump.

“I think I’m with Lewis on this one. Good thing you’re our guitarist though, right?”

He glances down at your hand on his shoulder, and his grin deepens into a real smile.

“I’ll be the best guitarist you’ve ever had.”

You wink. “I’m counting on it, Hamilton.”

And he was right - he was the best damn electric guitarist you’d ever had. You don’t realize it now, but he’ll also be the last.

Lewis’ playing was the embodiment of the word ‘sharp’. He played aggressively, but with precision that made every note rip through the air like a sheet of notebook paper being torn in half. He also loved to add embellishments to the sound - a bit of distortion here, reverb there. Some days he wore a metal slide around his finger, sometimes not. Lewis made every note sing regardless, the air buzzing with energy. It made Jennifer’s bass playing bouncier, Sebastian's drums more feverish.

Sometimes he’d match your riffs, the little genius. With his guitar. His playing even made you dance one time - spinning and sinking to your knees, Lewis following in a call-and-response until you were both on the floor, riffing your hearts out. He was as tuned in to you as the rest of the band was tuned in to him. As wary of Lewis as you originally were, you can't deny that he makes you feel invincible when he plays beside you.

It shouldn't be shocking, then, that Lewis slots into your friend group like a puzzle piece you didn't even realize was missing. You try to scare him off with your dark humor, but he plays off of it - sometimes lightening the mood, other times managing to go darker. Lewis cracks jokes that make the entire lunch table laugh, but he always glances at you first. You interpret this as competitiveness, and roll your eyes at him, but part of you finds it endearing that he cares that much.

You appreciate Lewis in your own way. Threatening to beat someone up for making fun of his tooth gap, for example. He looks terrified when you do, but thanks you profusely anyway. There's a silent agreement that this is just how things are going to be until Lewis passes by your garage one Tuesday afternoon.

You're strumming an acoustic guitar while mumbling through a song he doesn't recognize, a purple notebook sitting open on a chair beside you. You have on distressed jeans, and an old-looking yellow cardigan that looks out of place in your usually all-black wardrobe. It makes you look small.

“That sounds nice,” he calls out from just outside the garage door. He's close, but doesn't want to step inside without your permission. You speak without looking up.

“It's missing something.”

“Can I come in?”

You nod, and soon Lewis is hovering over the notebook, eyes scanning the lyrics as you bring them to life.

“Bridge.”

You stop playing abruptly and look up. “Huh?”

Lewis gives you that bashful, ‘I am pretending to not know what I'm talking about’ smile and scratches the back of his neck.

“I mean, the song sounds like it's building up to something, but you're making the jump too soon. It needs a bridge.”

Lewis fidgets beneath your gaze as you stare at him. “You…probably didn't ask for that advice. Sorry, I—”

“Do me a favor, Hamilton.”

He blinks.

“Uh, sure. What's the favor?”

“Stop apologizing so much. It's annoying.”

Lewis opens his mouth—presumably to say ‘sorry'— but then promptly closes it and just nods.

“See you this weekend?”

You give him a blank look. “Where else would I be?”

It isn’t until Jennifer’s mom stops by that the four of you consider playing at the annual school talent show (you thought the event was ‘lame’ and ‘for try-hards’, so you usually made the band skip out on it).

“Y’all are making all that noise just for only the neighbors to hear?” She quips with a smile after a particularly thrashy number. The woman holds a plate of freshly-baked cookies in one hand, the other resting on her hip. Jennifer had clearly inherited her mother’s affinity for khaki-colored capris.

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” Lewis greets, all sing-songy like he’d been taught to recite it. You tilt your face away from him to roll your eyes. You never did come to like his incessant politeness. “Are those biscuit—er, cookies for us?”

“Sure, but only if you guys promise to at least sign up for that talent show, goodness!”

Sebastian nods a little too enthusiastically, causing his shaggy, dirty-blonde hair to fall over his eyes. “Oh, we will!”

Jennifer snorts before looking to you, and you shrug. “Eh, why not. We never play at those anyway.”

You’ve made a lot of mistakes in your lifetime, but you look back on that decision as one of the worst. The talent show goes well enough - most of your classmates didn’t even know you sang until that night. You’re on the keyboard, while Lewis plays his guitar like it’s his last day on Earth. He has a mic in front of him, too. Feeling generous, you had given him a couple lines in your verses - the less shout-y, more emotional bits. He sounds beautiful, amplified over school-issued speakers.

You glance at the crowd and notice a couple of jaws dropping, and in the front row there’s some guy with only half a head of hair in a crisp-looking shirt nodding his head, impressed. He’s watching Lewis intently, never taking his eyes off him. It makes you feel uneasy.

When the auditorium clears out afterwards, you notice two figures standing by one of the double doors. You recognize one as Lewis’ dad, though you’ve never had the opportunity to speak to the man directly. The second is the balding guy from the crowd. They look deep in serious discussion. Maybe a family friend?

Sebastian is calling your name next to you.

“Yo, are you coming? Jen’s mom is baking tonight. Come on!”

Eyes still gazing ahead, you nod dismissively, pulling just one of the straps on your backpack over your shoulder. “Yeah, I’m coming. Just…give me a second.”

Sebastian shrugs, and joins Jennifer in moving through the aisles to make their eventual exit.

Lewis’ dad has called his son over. He must not know the man, because his dad’s gesturing as if he’s making an introduction. They shake hands. The guy seems to be offering praise, because Lewis looks at him the same way he looks at you whenever you tell him you like his harmonies: starry-eyed and a little pleased with himself. The two men shake hands this time. Something has just been negotiated.

“Oh, that was just some talent agency guy, says his name’s Ron,” Lewis explains that same weekend after you ask him. He gives you a sly grin. “Why, you want his number or something?”

You shake your head and return your focus to the keyboard. You’re trying out melodies, something to set your new lyrics to. Lewis is busy tuning his guitar.

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think I wanna be part of some bigwig label, or anything like that.”

“You could probably be a big star though,” Lewis says. You don’t see the admiration in his gaze. “I’m sure if more people heard you blow the roof off of the place like you do in here, you could—”

“I’m not some future burnout pop star like you, so can you just drop it?” you snap, and you immediately regret it. He turns away, a closed expression settling over his features.

“Alright, jeez. You’re the one who asked,” he mutters beneath his breath. “My dad brings these label guys around all the time ‘cuz he wants me to get signed, or something. I don’t really want to, though.”

You turn to him again. “What do you want?”

Lewis frowns, like you’ve asked him something offensive. “I wanna play with you guys.”

You’re not sure whether to be relieved at the boy’s commitment, or annoyed that he treats having a dad with connections to talent agencies like no big deal. An annoyance, even. So you just keep messing around on the keyboard.

“Cool.”

He plays even more aggressively that week. As if he’s got something to prove. To whom, you have no idea. But it ends up meaning nothing.

The following Friday, Lewis doesn’t bring his guitar. He’s dragging a small suitcase behind him, gnawing on his bottom lip. The rims of his eyes look red.

Lewis got signed, and he’s moving away to be somewhere closer to a recording studio. The whole garage goes quiet. You don’t know what enrages you more: the fact that he lied, or the fact that he doesn’t even have the self-awareness to seem happy about it.

Instead of saying goodbye, you explode, hot tears stinging your eyes. You don’t even remember all of the things you call him that day. Maybe you don’t want to.

The band stops meeting after that. You tell yourself it’s because you could never find another guitarist.

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lh44 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lightning writes

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