#and I don’t care about her short brown hair

[richiejerimovichsblueeyes]

been loving your work recently... I think I need some richie angst to fluff in my life pleasee😆

Hey there anon! Thank you for your sweet words ♥️ I hope you enjoy this! I got kinda carried away with the fluff, lol.

I love you, Richard Lawrence Jerimovich!

Richie Jerimovich × female reader. Angst + Fluff

Warnings- some angst, but other than that nothing else. Brief mention of sex. But other wise just some tooth rotting fluff. There is a age gap between Richie and reader (didn’t specify age, only to keep it imersive for the reader). All my work is 18+, even if it's not smut. Although some of my work is SFW, I do still advise that minors do not interact, only because sex and other adult situations might be mentioned. I can't control what you read, but please be advised.

Author note- Richie's fluff makes me all mushy. This was so much fun to write <3

Word Count- 1,495

Request are open💕

“I have a feeling she is almost ten years younger than him.”

“I don’t know what women would date that loser.”

“I bet she’s just a rebound.”

“She won’t last another year with him”

Every cruel word from their bitchy mouths stung like a bee sting as I stood in line to pick up Eva. Did they think I was stupid? Or did they not care? Yes, I was younger than Richie. But it didn’t bother me until now. Tiff was always nice to me. I think she was happy Richie finally found someone who made him happy. I silently prayed for Eva’s class to let out so I wouldn’t be scrutinized by the snotty mom crew.

Small children burst out of the front door, all running towards their moms, dads, or whoever was waiting for them. Eva came bouncing toward me. She held up a drawing. “Y/N! I made you something” she beamed. I took the pink piece of construction paper. There were three stick people. There is a tall stick figure with brown hair, a shorter one with long hair and a triangle dress, and a short one with yellow hair drawn in with crayon. There was an attempt at a heart above the two adult stick people. My heart clenched in my throat. “It’s you and Dad, and then me.” She said with a smile. I felt tears prick my eyes. “Eva. I love this so much. Let’s go home and we’ll put it in the fridge for your Dad to see.” She grinned as I took my hand and walked her toward my car. 

As we walked to my car I felt the two of the bitchy moms eye me. 

“She’s so pathetic..thinking it’ll last between her and Eva’s dad. Poor girl.” Women A said. I hurried along with Eva, trying to get away from them as quickly as possible, hoping that Eva wouldn’t catch on to what was being said about me.

Eva hugged me before turning to her mom. “Thanks,” Tiff said with a smile as I handed her Eva’s school bag. I nodded trying to keep my expression at bay. The words from those women haunted me. What if I wasn’t meant for Richie? What if he didn’t love me? What if…what if.

“Eva, go run inside,” Tiff told Eva. The spunky kid ran inside as Tiff instructed. “Is everything ok?” She asked me once Eva was out of earshot. “Oh, I’m fine..just tired” I lied. “Hey, look. I know it’s probably weird for you being that I’m your boyfriend’s ex wife…what I want to say is that if you need anything you can talk to me. I know Richie can be a lot to handle with his temper, but I see that he cares a lot about you. And so does Eva.” I smiled at Tiff’s words. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” I felt nice that Tiff was on my side, but the insecure part of me was taunting me.

I held my tears together until I got home. Normally stuff like this didn’t get to me, but maybe the women at the school pickup line were right about me and Richie. Maybe we were destined to crash and burn. Maybe we’d end up with a sad story. Tears soaked my pillow as my thoughts ate me alive.

The door to my and Richies apartment swung open. He usually stopped to hang up his leather jacket, but today, he made his way to me, where I was a ball of emotions. “Hey, babe..are you ok? Tiff called and said you seemed upset while dropping Eva off.” Richie said softly while rubbing my arm. “I’m fine.” I lied. “No, you’re not; you’ve been crying. Come here.” I felt him gently lift me to make room for him to sit next to me on the couch. His arms pulled me in, making me even more emotional. I didn’t deserve him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” He encouraged me. “It’s fine..” I said as I enjoyed the comfort of his embrace. “You’re not fine. Please tell me so I can fix it.” He said with sadness in his voice. I knew he hated seeing me like this, but I was afraid if I voiced my concerns he would realize that I wasn’t worth his time. “Richie..I swear I’m ok. I’m just really tired.” “I’m not buying that bullshit, Y/N.” His voice was a little more firm Indicating he was getting frustrated. “There’s no bullshit, Richie. Stop asking.” “Why won’t you let me in!? I’m your boyfriend for fuck sake. I’m supposed to help you. You’re shutting me out” He said with his voice raised. Tears fell from my eyes, my lip quivering to keep myself from crying harder.

“Hey, hey…” He soothed me while pulling me in tight to his warm body. He gently wiped the tears from my eyes with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry for not telling you why I was upset..” I said as I leaned my head against his shoulder. “I understand that maybe you’re not ready to open up about everything, and I get you need to process some emotions alone. But, it kills me to see you hurting.” He whispered into my hair. “The ladies at school pickup were talking shit behind my back when I was picking up Eva,” I admitted. I felt Richie stiffen. “What did they say?” He asked in a voice that was laced with anger. “Just stuff about how I’m too young for you. How we won’t last. That I’m just your rebound.” All those words they said were like a knife in my gut as I repeated them. “Fucking bitches! I’m gonna pick Eva up tomorrow and give them a piece of my mind. Nobody talks about my girl like that.” I felt his lips brush against my forehead. “babe..don’t cause a scene.” I warned. “I don’t care if they send their prick face husbands after me.” He kissed my forehead again. “Plus, baby..they are just jealous,” I laughed sarcastically. “Seriously sweetheart. Your so fucking beautiful, they’ve got nothing on you..” He declares as he brushes his lips against mine. “And…maybe they are just jealous because I’m so hot.” He teased. “oh, look who’s got a big ego.” I laughed as I gave him a playful swat. “You gave it to me, babe…telling me how good-looking I am all the time.” He winked. “They wish their husbands were as good-looking as you,” I said with a flirty smile and I straddled his lap to face him. He gently cupped my face bringing it close to his. A serious look washed over his face. “You know? I’d love to make you Mrs. Y/n Jerimovich.” The air escaped from my lungs. “You mean…that?” I asked breathlessly. “I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately..want to buy you a ring, put it on your finger” he said with a boyish grin while he brought my ring finger up to his lips and placed a kiss on it. “What do you say, babe? Make me the happiest guy in the world?” I nodded as I was too emotional to speak. I hovered my lips over his and answered his question with a deep long kiss. The heat from our mouths mingled, sealing his question with a kiss. “Well, I take that as a yes.” He said with a husky voice as he separated his lips just a space from mine. “I love you, Richard Lawrence Jerimovich,” I whispered against his lips. He lets out a growl of approval. “I love the way my name sounds coming from that pretty mouth.” He pulled me into a tight embrace, his arms making me feel safe and protected. The steady beat of his heart against me. This is where I belonged, in his arms. Loved and protected. 

We lay in bed, a tangled mess of limbs and sheets basking in the afterglow of sex.  “I completely forgot. Eva drew me a picture at school.” I told Richie, my head lying on his chest. “Yeah? What did the little artist draw?” He asked. “A stick family. You, me, and Eva. She drew a heart above you and me.” I said while picturing the artwork in my head. Richie smirked, giving me an indication he had a secret. “Spill it!” I said while poking his side playfully. “Fine, fine before you tickle it out of me.” He laughed as he grabbed my hands and interlaced his fingers with mine. “I may have already bought a ring. Eva helped me. I’m shocked she kept it a secret this long.” I felt my heart pound with excitement, a smile forming on my lips. “Try and act surprised when I propose? Ok?” He teased me. “I fucking love you, Richie. So much!” I grinned as I attacked his face with kisses. 

[swugflower]

I know arguing about the outfits of heroins is dumb and an incel thing to do, but I’m so displeased by Supergirls costume in The Flash Movie.

These Kara’s are from Superman: The animated series, the DCAU, DC Superhero girls and the 90s Young Justice run (she had her own run during that time and looked very similar) (I just couldn’t find a pic from it snd don’t any of those comics)

And what I love about all of them is that they look like teenage girls dressing up. They are in no way modest and “sexy” in their own right, but in the end she always looks like she took inspiration from popular teen shops when designing her hero outfit. (STAS Kara probably literally got that stuff from forever 21 or Smth)

Yes, they are still pleasing to the male viewers but it also looks like they have fun dressing this way and it reflects how young they still are!

Here we have Kara, was seen in the The Flash Trailers:

Well… first off that’s not a teenager (which to be fair, Kara wasn’t in the supergirl show either).

It’s a young woman in a skin tight suit with weird lines around her crotch.

In a was it’s way more modest. All that’s exposed are her hands and face, but (at least to me) it’s so much more revealing. She is literally wearing a cat suit that shows everything about her and none of the charm the other suits had.

This doesn’t look like an outfit to me a young woman would wear to feel good about herself. It’s just tight and showing off her ass. (Tho if you are a young women that would love to wear it and feel good about yourself ALL POWER TO YOU).

Like I said, it’s kinda dumb to be this upset about her suit but it’s just disappointing to me.

Let Kara have fun with her outfit again :(

[gaylittleguys]

hey actually what was up with the artemis fowl series suddenly pivoting to make the grown adult woman a love interest for the teenage boy. like I’ve blocked everything after the first 4 books from my mind bc I hate them for many reasons but like. genuinely what the fuck.

[inupibaldspot]

Back off,kid.

Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : (Teen)Gojo is jealous over (kid) Fushiguro having a crush on you.

Fushiguro Megumi always wonders if he made the right choice every time a white-haired sunglass wearing teenager walks into the house.

The tall older boy would grin as his hands form a salute. “You doing good Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He was as useful as the indoor plants. Fushiguro thought.

Gojo wasn’t much good at cooking and neither helped with cleaning, probably because of his rich background—but he did spoil them with lots of food and pocket money but he wouldn’t ever admit that.

As much as Fushiguro would love to throw insults at Gojo, he holds back his tongue each time; Tsumiki would send sharp glare and nag him if he did.

The first friend he brought to visit them was a girl; it was after Gojo went missing for a while and when Tsumiki inquired about it ,he simply said one of his dear friend went cray-cray as his finger twirls at the temple of his head.

The girl had short, brown hair with a distinct smell of cigarette; her name was Shoko Ieiri. She wore an impressed look when she entered the house as she looked over to Gojo. “Heh— The place is pretty neat,Gojo.”

Fushiguro looked to Gojo who placed some groceries on the counter top with a proud smile on his face. “I know right!” Gojo replies.

The young boy frowns. “It’s Tsumiki who keeps the place clean.” Shoko gives Gojo a stare before she cackles.

A week later when Tsumiki was still in school with club activities, another person makes an appearance ,you. He could faintly hear conversations between you and Gojo through the front door on how you’d actually wanted to visit them sooner but was bombarded with mission before it swings open.

The first thing Fushiguro noticed was how Gojo seemed to make you enter first— other times he barges in without a care for Shoko— his hands near your back with a slight space, without touching it. Why was Gojo being nice?

You blink at the dark haired boy. “Fushiguro Megumi, right?” Gojo peers from behind as you smile. “Did you eat?”

“Not yet. Waiting for Tsumiki to get home.” Fushiguro thinks you’re the first person who is kind of decent.

You nod take plastic bag from Gojo’s hands and lift up it, your smile widen. “I’ll make you some good stuff then.”

“I want to eat your cooking too,y/n.” Gojo chirps in only to be ignored. And to your credit, it was actually good. He didn’t remember the last time he had something this good home made.

After that, your visits seemed to increase which Fushiguro Megumi did not mind, in fact he was getting fond of your presence. You helped with food, cleaning which lessened the load on Tsumiki plus you also helped him with his studies.

“You seemed to get it now, Megumi.” Poor kid, blushes a bit hearing your compliment. “Practice this set of questions and I think you’ll do pretty well on your tests.” You smile.

Fushiguro nods as he does as you say, face still heated up. He looks up at you, who was reading a book. Your hair slightly in your face, lips slightly parted with eyes focused. You were extremely beautiful and as much as he wouldn’t admit it , he had a big fat kid crush on you.

“Megumi-chan.” Suddenly he is shoved to the side as a body makes way in between you and him. It was Gojo who sat in between. “Move over~ This seat is mine.”

The boy frowns and so did you, not liking Gojo’s action. “Don’t interrupt the kid, who is studying.” Kid? Ouch…You huff as your move over, despite you complaining you make space for him, focus back on your book.

Fushiguro watched as Gojo leans closer to you, almost resting his head on your neck as he looked over to your book; after a while eyes slowly moved over to you, his expression softens.

Gojo smiles as he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair, to which you don’t react as if it was normal. Thee older man then turns his head to Fushiguro—oops,he got caught staring.

The white haired boy then grins, a condescending one in fact as he mouths out the following words.

‘y/n-is-mine.” Fushiguro huffs. ‘back-off.”

·:*¨༺ Part 2༻¨*:·

Reblogs, like and comment are appreciated! Love this work? out other here

[lewisvinga]

Dios mío! | toto wolff x latina! reader x susie wolff !

summary; in which the young single mother of one of jack’s friends catches the attention of toto and susie

warnings; age gap

word count; 1.05k

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

note; requested ! my fave dilf n milf tbh , my requests are CLOSED ATM!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Santiago! Adónde vas?” [where are you going?]

Y/n sighed as she followed the tan, curly-haired boy who just laughed in response. She held onto her bag in one hand and his helmet in the other as she ran after him. She huffed as she noticed other parents stare at her chasing her son around the track.

“Santiago! Ya vas a ver.” [you’ll see]

Santiago finally stops in front of another boy with brown hair. He greeted the young boy and the two immediately started conversing about whatever they usually chatted about.

Y/n finally caught up to her son and was completely out of breath. She bent down and grabbed Santiago’s arm. “Santiago, what did we talk about?”

“Stay by Mamás side.” The curly-haired boy mumbled.

“Exacto!” [exactly]

“But I wanted to see my friend Jack!”

“I know you’re excited, papito, but that doesn’t mean you can run off on your own. I don’t want you getting lost.”

Y/n sighed as she stood back up, finally realizing that Santiago’s friend and his parents were in front of them. Her face started to heat up from embarrassment. She let out a nervous chuckle as she brushed off her jeans. “I’m so sorry about Santiago.”

She finally got to take a closer look at Jack’s parents. They both seemed older compared to Y/n who had Santiago as a teenager. Jack’s father was tall, way taller than her or his mother. He had black frames and a smirk adorning his face.

Jack’s mother was shorter but seemed to have a strong aura. Her hair was short and blonde. The smile she wore matched her husband's. Both combined emitted an aura that Y/n couldn’t help but feel attracted to.

“Oh, please, don’t worry about it.” The blonde exclaims with a laugh. “Jack always talks about him.”

“Where are my manners?” Y/n suddenly gasped as she flattened her baby hairs that escaped from her ponytail. She holds her hand out with a smile, “I’m Y/n, Y/n L/n.”

Jack's mother flashes her a smile before quickly shaking her hand. “Susie.”

Her husband was quick to shake Y/n’s hand after, the smile still evident on his lips. “Toto Wolff. Your son seems amazing, Jack is always talking about his best friend Santiago.”

Y/n lets out a laugh as she gently pats Santiago’s dark curls. “He’s the only one I got here. My family is back home in Latin America, so I always try to raise my boy the best I can.”

Susie nods sympathetically before her head tilts to the side out of curiosity. “And his father? Does he help?”

Y/n let out a disappointed sigh. “Nope. It’s just me and Santi in this world.” She chuckled and shrugged, “It’s better off just us two.” Her confirmation that she was indeed single made the married couple share a glance.

They’ve seen her several times at Jack’s school before while picking up Santiago. They never got a clear look at her until right before one of Jack’s races where her son ran up to their son. She caught their attention immediately, especially with the way she seemed so careful of Santiago.

Toto and Susie had shared multiple knowing looks while the young mother was talking to her son just moments earlier. They were attracted to her no doubt.

“Mamá,” Santiago’s soft voice interrupted them. He stared at Toto with wide eyes. “He’s the team principal of Mercedes.” He thought he was whispering but in fact, he was talking really loud.

His failed attempt at whispering caused Toto to let out a deep laugh, his hand ruffling up the boys’ curls. “Indeed I am, Santiago.”

At the realization, Y/n let out a gasp. She wasn’t into Formula One but he son was. She often spent Sundays making carne asada and watching races with Santiago even if she wasn’t interested. She had only seen Toto and Susie on screen once or twice, but she failed to recognize them until her son mentioned it.

“My abuelo [grandpa] likes Mercedes! He says I'm gonna be like Lewis!” The young boy continued to rant as Y/n watched, furrowing up her eyebrows.

“Dios mío, [my God] I didn’t realize at all.” She sighed with wide eyes. She had an apologetic smile as her hands rested on her son's shoulders. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-“

“Don’t worry about it.” Toto interrupted her, waving his hand around as he turned to Santiago. “When you’re old enough, tell your pretty mamá to give me a call, hm? Maybe you and Jack can be teammates.”

Ar the mention of being teammates with his best friend, Santiago let out a cheer as the youngest Wolff followed him in cheer. The sudden compliment caused Y/n’s cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

“I-uh-,” She coughed to clear her throat, “We have to go. Gotta make sure Santiago is all prepared before the race, right?” She chuckled, watching the curly-haired boy chat away with Jack.

“Hey, Y/n, wait.” Susie quickly said before the young mother could leave. Y/n hums in response as the blonde glances at her husband and back at her. “Are you busy tonight?”

“After the race? No.” Y/n replied, swinging her bag onto her shoulder. “Was just gonna order takeout for Santi and me. Why?”

“Come over for dinner at ours.” Toto quickly offered. His offer made her raise her eyebrows in shock as their two sons looked up excitedly.

“A gorgeous lady like you shouldn’t be alone. Come by ours, yeah?” Susie said with a smile, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle as she nodded in agreement, keeping her eyes on Susie and Toto. “Y-yeah! That sounds amazing.“ She reached into her bag and found a pen and a random piece of paper. She scribbled her number down quickly before handing it to the blonde.

“Just call me. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, we’ll definitely call,” Toto said, another smirk appearing on his lips as he looked over Susie’s shoulder at the paper.

Y/n shared another smile with them before grabbing Santiago. The two quickly said goodbye before walking off to prepare the young boy for his race. In reality, she was also preparing herself for dinner with the attractive older couple she just met at her son's karting race. She mumbled to herself, “Ay Dios mío.” [oh my God]

[kisses4reid]

convenient pt.3 | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

pt. 1 | pt.2 (you cannot read this without prior reading)

summary - spencer likes the girl from the convenience store

warnings - awkward conversations and long silences, both of them being hopeless romantics, allergies/sickness

genre - fluff!!! college!fem!reader x earlyseasons!spencer

a/n - thank you for the love and support on this series. it goes without saying i appreciate all of you all 🫶 thank u @raevyng for the cameo. sorry this is short, it’s either i upload this part or i make y’all wait for another week - i like you guys too much to do that.

“good job on you’re stem cell report, y/n. it was very informed and unique. i liked the, now who was it… william blake quote you included!” the teacher spoke before a class of 60. it was back to teaching new information before the next assessment, you were just about finished typing the professor’s notes before she spoke up. the mention of your name nearly made you jump.

a few of the students looked back up at you, some looking around because they had no clue who you were. you liked it better that way.

you also had no idea who william blake was.

“oh- um. thanks.” you say barely above a whisper. professor raena simply smiled and pushed back her shoulder length bob from her face. she started talking again, so did your friend.

“thanks? the professor who’s known to call out people for their incompetence more than smile in the classroom just praised you. that’s all you had to say?”

maybe logan wasn’t your friend per say. maybe she was just someone who sat next to you the first class and also happened to be your neighbour. she was stubborn and straight-forward, insanely intelligent and also smelt great. but she was caring, and gave you tough love when you needed it.

you glanced at her and smiled awkwardly, “i didn’t have much time to think about an answer.”

“i spend most of my time thinking about what i’d say to professor raena if she ever complimented me.”

“that’s because your-“ you suddenly muffle a cough into your hand, “obsessed with her.” you bring out a small packet of tissues from your bag and wipe your nose, nose reddening. logan leans slightly away from you and you roll your eyes.

“you’re not going to catch anything, it’s just allergies.” you lean back and try to continue typing notes but logan continues,

“you should go home, have some medicine, get some sleep.”

“i can’t, i’ve got work.” you whispered, a man in front of you turning around to shoot you with a side eye.

“you’ve told me multiple times that your manager wouldn’t care if you stole from the store. i’ve also told you many times i also don’t care.”

“yeah well… i like working there, that’s all.”

she rolls her eyes again, and waves you off, her long brown hair blocking her disappointed expression from you.

you stayed loyal to your job for two nights, for nothing. sure you got paid, and sure you got to steal some strawberry milk to ease your throat for a couple of minutes, but it felt boring. you actually started to file through the month old magazines you sold for double the price of a new one. you almost made it a third day without dying of allergies (and another secret feeling of sickness you constantly ignored), before you decided you were over it.

you stood up, flipped the door sign so the word ‘open’ faced you, and turned off half of the fluorescent lights before someone was suddenly in the corner of your eyes. spencer was opening the door so quickly you thought you were being robbed, you wouldn’t have seen him if not for the bell ringing on his entry.

“y/n.” he panted, watching your fingers hover over the last light switch. there was two lights left flickering softly above the front door and the check out desk. he looked stoic in the light, dressed in a grey sweater a little too big for him (like his mother had bought it for him telling him he’d grow into it) and black slacks. he seemed to have gotten a trim, his hair just under his ears now. “you don’t close until 1.”

he was confused, eyes wandering with a light hint of relief. like he was happy he didn’t miss you.

“yeah.” is all you said before you turned away from the light switch and returned to the register, assuming he would get his usual. but he didn’t keep walking, he just turned his body to face you. his eyes were expectant, delirious in a way like he needed something from you.

it was silent before the tension literally forced you to speak, “um. i need to close the store before i pass out. so i can uh… get home alive.” you look down and realise the pile of tissues before you was making a mountain, quickly grabbing them and stuffing them in an over filled bin.

“um.” a cat caught his tongue, he looked down to his feet.

spencer was sitting in his desk chair, scrolling on his government provided computer through forums and websites on ‘how to ask out a girl.’ not realising a majority of his team was reading them as well. he heard a small, familiar giggle behind him, quickly closing the tab and turning his head to be met with many other faces. jj slapped garcia on the shoulder with a smile, who’s hand was over her mouth, morgan and emily also smiling. spencer sighed and was about to cover for himself before morgan stepped in,

“look, pretty boy. no websites or article is ever going to teach you how to ask out a girl. they know nothing.”

emily joined, “yeah, none of those things are going to work. i mean, one of those said ‘don’t take no for an answer’. that’s straight up harassment.” she chuckled. morgan walked forward and placed a hand on spencer’s shoulder.

“all you have to do is talk. learn to what she likes, and be confident.”

“that’s easy for you to say.” spencer mumbled.

“who is this girl anyways? who’s taking our genius away from us?” garcia asked, today her hair was adorned with green themed pieces and a small pink flower clip.

spencer couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth perk up when he thought about the girl who worked at the convenience store. the girl who’s report honestly impressed him. the girl who knew his total without looking at the register. the girl who called him good looking without noticing, like it slipped off of her tongue with no second thought. “just someone.”

you were not just someone.

“yeah you should get home. you look terrible.” spencer’s eyes widened as you raised an eyebrow, “no i mean- not terrible- you never look or have ever looked terrible- i just meant today- no you- like you’re sick and obviously- i mean you don’t obviously look terrible- it’s just uh…” he nodded at himself after he noticed a smile creeping onto your face. “you know what i mean.”

“i know i look terrible, thank you.” he was slowly walking up to the register.

“you really should go home, i shouldn’t keep you here because of some coffee.”

you eyes stung and were puffed in redness, you nose dried yet running, eyebrow lines permanent from warding off a migraine. any other customer you would stay for, but you felt less guilty with him. not because you didn’t care, because you knew he did.

“yeah, thank you.” you grabbed your bag, put your empty water bottle into it and walked over to the lights, turning off the last ones, leaving you both in darkness. spencer was waiting for you, quite creepily as he was basically just a block of void. “you sure you don’t need your 3 minute lasagne?” you joked, and he smiled.

“no, this is fine.”

this? them? you thought this man was articulate.

you opened the door with a key-accessed button that automatically locked it after it closed, and walked into the warm streetlight with spencer.

“bye spencer.” you looked up to him only to find his eyes already on you. his face was plain of emotion, except maybe it was just the lighting that made you think he looked disappointed. not at you, at himself. he was silent, hands making their way into his pockets. it was a habit, you had learned. “what’s wrong spencer?” you asked softly, sniffling immediately after.

it was cold, the wind let a stray piece of hair cross your stuffy features.

“do you like old bookstores, y/n?”

you blinked, taken aback. “yeah. i like old bookstores.” you huddled into your sweater, a darker grey compared to his with a large font displaying your university.

“okay, goodbye y/n. see you tomorrow.” he hurried off into his car and you followed him with you eyes in curiosity.

you were already walking away before he could turn around and ask you something, he felt like he had missed his chance. but there would be more. spencer closed his eyes in frustration and took a breath, starting his car before texting the team’s group chat.

“Attempt One failed. 😐👎”

there was a string of messages after but he didn’t read them. all he could think about was the percentage of people who die alone, and then the percentage of people who are like you.

the next night he appeared at the normal time, around nearly 11pm. but he wasn’t the only one, logan was there with you, studying behind you on the floor.

she was bored, and needed to get out of her room, and the only person she knew well enough was you. there in her mens pyjama pants and an over-sized shirt that read ‘RIP Princess Diana’ with a photo of owen wilson on it, her computer warmed her lap and made a soft whirling sound the in the background.

“hi y/n.” spencer waved, he felt bad about last night. you were barely walking straight when you left and he could tell you wouldn’t get out of your ‘work clothes’ (whatever you wanted to wear with a vest over it) before falling onto your mattress, and he drove away. he didn’t even offer to take and walk you home, let alone give you a ride. but his hands were sweating and his heart thumping in his ears, and he couldn’t think straight.

“oh, hi spencer.” you turned from your own textbook splayed on the counter beside you to see spencer and his tall self. a bag of apples, a 2 minute bolognese container, and a bag of coffee. you scan them, weigh the apples, and watch him.

he wasn’t meeting you eyes. you furrowed your eyebrows for a second before telling him his total with a sniffle.

“i’m sorry for not driving you home,” he lifted his head, a piece of chocolate brown hair crossing his left eye, “or walking you home. or making sure you made it home safe.”

you widened your eyes slightly and sat still before spencer cleared his throat and continued, “i was nervous, about being around you. and my friends- my colleagues- told me i need to be more confident around you so.”

logan had stopped writing, glancing through her bangs up at you both. your mouth was slightly agape before you realised how stupid you looked and how awkward you were making it.

“oh- no it’s okay spencer, you don’t have to say sorry. i was- i’m fine. um,” you tilt your head with the corner of your lips quirking up with little resistance, “you talk about me to your friends?”

spencer nodded, put his hands in his pockets and thought for a second. he wished there was a better place to do this, a better person to take over for him.

all you have to do is talk.

spencer is great at talking.

“did you know that you could be scrolling for seven weeks before you can reach the end of ‘how to ask a girl out’ results on google? i was scrolling for a long time but then my friends told me to just talk and be confident, but i’m only good at one of those thing. so i was trying to ask you out last night but then i- well i failed basically, it isn’t my strong suit,” he took a breath, “so basically i’m saying sorry for not asking you out and not driving you home.”

it was silent, even a customer stopped humming.

“and also your allergy medication isn’t strong enough for your symptoms.” he glanced down to a white and blue box by your hand. you looked down, seeing logan in the corner of your eyes, hand covering her face.

“spencer-“

“dude just ask her out.”

spencer’s face dropped, and he looked over the counter to find another woman sat down, a cringed out expression on her face. his nervousness increased after he realised this wasn’t as private a conversation as he thought. wiping his hand on his vest, he continue with a gulp,

“no i can’t. not here, um. i’ll see you on monday. and i promise i’ll uh- be better? i’ll try again, so. okay see you on monday.” he quickly took his groceries and walked off quite speedily. you watched him walk away and then once he was out of sight, you simply stared at the box of allergy medication on the counter.

logan groaned in the background and said something about growing balls, but it was tv silence for you.

you didn’t know how to go out with someone, your last relationship was in your first year of high school with a guy who thought baby’s came out of a woman’s bum. not that spencer meant he wanted a relationship, no it could just be a friend ‘going out’. totally not romantic.

you slump and stuff your face in your hands. you didn’t care if you hadn’t dated for however long, he didn’t seem to be a man-whore at all. you just cared about how you were actually going to say yes to a man you’ve only talked to inside of an off-brand convenience store on the night shift.

you muffle a scream before the same silent customer placed a carton of milk on the counter.

“$2.50.” you grumble.

you carried logan’s computer bag as she took out a box of strawberry pocky on the sidewalk. the store was locked, the air was crisp, the light was flickering. you didn’t say much until logan couldn’t stand it anymore.

“you know when you’re this silent it’s actually pretty nice, i like peaceful walks home.” you nodded, and continued your racing thoughts with your line of vision stuck on the concrete as you both walked the block to your apartments. she sighed, “but it’s odd. you love talking. a guy likes you and you go mute?”

“his name is spencer, he does something dangerous for a living, he likes old books and drinks a lot of coffee. he gets home late at night, looks skinny but can lift a box of flour above his head with ease. he’s insanely smart and reads poetry, and helped me with my stem cell report.”

you look over at logan who looks a little disgusted but mainly confused.

“he helped me lift that box of flour without me asking. i have no idea who william blake is. i have no idea how he managed to put poetry in a biology report, and i have no idea how he can admit he’s going to ask me out and then not ask me out. his favourite colour is purple, his favourite fruit is grapes but he buys apples because they’re cheaper. and his name is… spencer.”

logan stopped in her tracks, making you copy. you flung out of whatever trance you were stuck in and raised an eyebrow at logan, “what?”

“what? oh no i don’t know, maybe you’ve just never told me about a man you happen to know a lot about, and yet don’t know anything about. you sound insane- not in the ‘loony-bin way’, in the romcom way. it’s disgusting.”

you both continued to walk, climbing the stairs to the foyer of your building before she took back her bag and gave you the pocky, mumbling, “you need these more than me.”

the elevator ride was mostly silent, and that continued before you both unlocked your apartment doors right beside each other.

“you need to ask him out, if he doesn’t do it first.” she entered her apartment before you could speak, let alone think.

suddenly your apartment felt lonely.

so did spencer’s.

he was cross legged on his plush couch on a call with penelope garcia, she was squealing every second minute trying to create a plan for spencer to ask someone out.

“spence, you’re making this very hard. how am i supposed to be your coach if i only have half a team?”

“you can find someone’s address with half a fingerprint, i think you’ll be fine.” he takes a bite of his 2 minute bolognese.

“that takes the fun out of it. i can only give you tips if i know her personality.”

spencer sighed, and thought for a second, he could practically hear penelope’s growing smile knowing she had won.

“her names y/n.” garcia squealed. “she’s smart and pretty. and her favourite colour’s purple and she studies biology. she knows my groceries off my heart and she’s allergic to pollen. she works late at night at the convenience store two blocks away from my apartment building, and she likes old book stores. she’ll be introverted around an extroverted person, but extroverted around an introverted person. she can read my expressions faster than anyone else, she tries out different hairstyles when nobody’s in the store, and she’s funny.” spencer smiles to himself, “she’s pretty.”

“you mentioned that, lover boy.”

pt.4

taglist: @jeffswh0re @hypotheticallyspeakingwitch @trashmonstersara @wannabewolf @evysian @navs-bhat @mywellspringoflife @daphnesutton @smalls155 @amortencjja @anuncalledbridge @belsreid @redmurderbaby @tatilolz @criminalmindsandhouse @forensicuntology @nomajdetective @ilikw @screechingphantommaker

[yourgothiccqueen]

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”

[earlysunshines]

like you used to

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; angst

synopsis: it’s raining it’s pouring no old man is snoring and you've run into your ex-girlfriend (aka the love of your life) after a year.

warnings: reader used to have bad habits (smoking, alcohol) ; sana is a sweetheart ; reader is avoidant ; ex's to...? ; my attempt at angst, not my forte... ; anything else I didn't mention

a/n: hey! so all i do is lie (change my mind too often) anyways this one is short I just had a random burst of motivation :-p feeling edgy, don’t expect more this is spontaneous;-;

one thing about where you live is that there’s always unexpected surprises — in this case, the weather went from partly cloudy at 5pm to sudden thunder and lightning.

great.

no umbrella, a drenched shoulder bag, and soaked clothes cling to you as you dash for cover. when you finally find refuge at the bus stop, there’s another surprise waiting for you.

light brown hair dampened by the rain, a side profile more beautiful than flowers in bloom, and a soft smile that could captivate you for centuries: minatozaki sana.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath, running under the roof of the stop. 

patting down your blazer and pleated pants, sana turns and widens her eyes slightly. you meet her halfway, meeting her gaze and shrinking despite being a few centimeters taller. 

she gasps – almost. “y/n?”

“sana,” you tighten your jaw, feeling a knot in your stomach. “hi.”

“you’re drenched.” she points out the obvious, rushing to pull out a handkerchief in her purse. “come here.” she says, stepping closer. 

you flinch, stepping back a bit and sana frowns.

“it’s fine, it’s nothing.” you assure, feeling stiff in your place. “use it for yourself.”

“i’m not as soaked as you are.”

“it’s fine, sana.” you add firmly, clutching the strap of your bag and wiping water off your cheeks. 

even when you turn back to face the road, attempting to dry yourself with your wet blazer, sana continues to stare. you feel her eyes piercing through you, the same sweet eyes that would look at you like you were her world before you messed up. you want to shrivel up and disappear, every second beside her is grueling.

you make the mistake of glancing back at her again, she’s somehow prettier than two seconds ago – and after a year of avoiding her. 

sana’s wearing a white dress with a white cardigan on top; everything she has on is pretty damp, so you assume she got luckier and found cover quicker than you. she has on light makeup, nothing too crazy, but either way, she’d still have you staring. her hair – now slightly wet – is clipped up with a bow, making her look like some sort of princess. a small sigh leaves your lips as you break away from her.

“the rain won’t stop anytime soon, how will you get home?” she asks you, voice sweet and careful. 

“bus.”

“i heard they’re delayed for thirty minutes.”

“i can wait.” you reply, staring at the ground. “it’s nothing.”

she sighs, then steps closer to you and holds your wrist. she grabs your attention again, both your eyes meeting in eye contact that makes your heartache; she has that effect.

“y/n,” she stays sternly, “i called an uber ten minutes ago, you’re coming with me.”

“no i’m not sana.”

“yes you are.” her grip on your forearm tightens, making you gulp lightly. 

you stare at her through your overgrown, wet bangs that cling to your forehead, sighing softly. the handkerchief she had in her hand now draws closer to your face. she gently uses it to wipe away the water from your forehead, cheeks, and nose. her touch is tender, and her eyes focus intently on you, making your heart flutter in your chest.

surrender is your first option – your only option. 

“okay.”

–

sana’s apartment is as homey as you remember, the same couch you’d talk and makeout for hours on is still clean and fresh. 

she steps in first, kicking off her loafers and walking towards the kitchen island. 

“come.” she says, and you follow without a word, taking off your own shoes and hanging your bag up on the rack you used to.

you follow and sit down at the chair she’d used to sit at when you cooked for her, playing chef and cracking stupid jokes as you fixed her a simple pasta. her place used to be a haven from whatever you had going on, but now it’s dissolving you with every second passing by.

sana disappears for a moment, giving you a brief respite. you take this time to try and recompose yourself, staring at the marble counter in front of you. despite your efforts to push them down, memories you tried so hard to lock away from the light resurface, flooding your mind and making your heart ache with their intensity.

“here,” you jump at the soft sound of sana’s voice, looking up to see her handing you a towel – your towel.

“thank you.” grabbing it, you pat yourself down. sana hands you shorts and a t-shirt, also yours. 

“you never came back to get them.” she mumbles, sitting down next to you and searching for something in your eyes. “you know that?”

“i do.”

“mhm.” she looks even deeper, twisting you from the inside and out. “you should change.”

you nod.

–

by the time you finish changing, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror for a moment too long, lost in a brief moment of reminiscing. shaking off the memories, you finally return to the kitchen, feeling all too much at once.

there’s a candle lit and hot ginger tea on the counter in sana’s favorite mug. she’s leaning against the counter near the stove, staring at her own cup.

you sit down and place both hands on either side of the mug. sana hums softly, “you should drink some, you’ll get sick.”

“it’s fine, i’ll get going soon anyway.”

“no you won’t.”

“and you’re the one who’s in charge of that?”

“stay the night, it’s not like you haven’t before y/n.” she sighs, looking at you with hurt in her features. “besides, i won’t let you go back. if you do, i know just seeing me will prompt you to drink and drink, maybe you’ll even light a cigarette or two if you’re sober enough to pull them out the pack.” she spits, sending a dagger through your chest.

you try to respond, but your throat dries up in the process. instead, you take a sip of the tea, not uttering a single word.

the air is weighed down with a palpable tension, like the elephant in the room sits on top of you two.

she sets her mug down, then walks over to lean against the counter in front of you, watching your head hang lower and hands run to the back of your neck.

“i’m sorry.”

“you should be.”

leaving with nothing but a note, a text, and then blocking her? sana deserves more than a sorry, but she’s grateful that you’re muttering it at all.

“i couldn’t face you.” you feel your throat closing in on itself again. “i don’t want you to be stuck on me.”

“y/n, i love you, nothing is ever going to change that even after you ghosted me.”

the whole reason you did all of that was simple: you’re an insecure, avoidant coward.

sana was and still is set up on a pedestal, one that would take lightyears to climb. she's beautiful, cunning, charming, and caring. you had never known anyone as loving as her. it was dangerous having a person so cozy and warm jump into your life when you've always been so cold and uneasy.

two years with sana were enough to create memories that would make you smile just thinking about them, but they could also send you into a spiral.

lingering in your mind were thoughts screaming for you to leave her, insisting you weren't enough and that she would be better off without you. it wasn’t jealousy of anyone else, you were too clouded with your flaws to care about that; it was the belief that you should dig yourself into a ditch so sana would realize she shouldn’t waste her time on someone like you.

she witnessed your moments of weakness. once a month, you'd drink until you couldn’t formulate a thought, and smoke to avoid confronting your problems and the personal hassles you hid from her. the monthly occurrence turned into a bimonthly thing, and then weekly nearing the end of your relationship. and still, sana would be by your side each time, making sure you were okay.

you were an asshole, and you had to pry yourself away from her somehow.

“just give up sana.”

“y/n,” you feel hands on your cheeks, cupping them and tilting your head up to meet her face sculpted by the angels above. “stop that.”

your brows upturn. “you stop that.”

“i’m not doing anything.”

“that’s the problem.”

sana rubs your cheeks like she used to, her long nail just barely grazing your skin in the process. you sink in your place, eyes avoiding hers.

“we don’t have to talk about it now, but stay. i want you safe, even if it’s just for tonight.”

“don’t do this to yourself, you’ll only hurt more.”

“there’s nothing that hurts more than knowing you’ll have a fever, it’s okay.”

without warning, she leans in, hugging you softly. sana’s warmth and softness envelop you, and you feel like you’ll freeze her, turning her rigid with your coldness.

sana feels your body go stiff, but when she rubs her back, you’re already sinking into her. she’s spent time to take care of herself, but nothing beats the way she cares for you, or just the feeling of being with you.

you had your flaws, but sana saw right past them and into your heart.

even if you didn’t think it, you were sana’s rock. sweet and caring, a sight for sore eyes, and the warmth she needed after a long day. she could talk to you about anything, and you’d be there to listen and soothe her worries, your smile easily easing the tension in her shoulders.

after countless tries (well, two, because sana couldn’t see anyone but you after that setup with momo’s friend on a whim), she had accepted that no one else could fill your spot in her life.

she feels tears soaking the material of her t-shirt, hearing you sniffle lightly into her.

sana pulls away, holding your face again. she looks at you with a mix of pity, regret, anger, and sorrow, maybe a little relief too. you’re back with her, she’s unsure of whether or not you’re still as vulnerable, but it doesn’t matter.

“it’s okay.”

“i’m an asshole.”

“you are,” she agrees, then wipes a tear from your eye. “but everyone has their reasons.”

she lets you stain her shirt with a few more tears before gently coaxing you to join her on the couch. it will take a long time to rebuild what you once had, but sana is willing to try, and you are too—especially when she holds you close, her hand rubbing your back comfortingly.

you’ve always thought you didn’t deserve her. 

but sana won’t let you let go so easily. she refuses to back down without a fight, and neither will you – not this time.

[moonstruckme]

Hi mae! I love eveything you write!! Kind of in a similar vein to doctor!remus i wanted to request poly!marauders where they are emt’s and they respond to a call where reader is injured and when they arrive to help reader is just super flustered and shy because there are three very sweet and attractive and charming men she doesn’t know taking care of her

Thanks lovely!

part 1 | part 2

Cw: car accident aftermath, concussion, blood, and definitely some smutty implications but nothing that would fluster your grandmother, also maybe don’t read if medical inaccuracies will piss you off because I can almost guarantee this is riddled with them (I am but a girl)

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

Someone else must have called emergency services, because the first thing you hear is sirens. Your car is smoky—that can’t be safe, can it?—and you ache, and the shaking of your hands makes them frustratingly inefficient at undoing the buckle of your seatbelt. 

The sirens get louder and then stop. The ruckus you can hear but not see outside of your smashed windshield increases, and there’s a warm wetness on your face, getting in your eyes. You reach up to swipe at it. The door next to you opens. 

“Hi.” A curly mop of hair attached to a smiling face pops in your driver’s door. “How we doing?” 

You inhale shakily. “All right.” 

His grin goes lopsided, brown eyes skimming over your form. “Well, at least you’ve got a good attitude. We’re gonna get you out of here in just a second, but first can you tell me what’s hurting you?” 

You blink. Things seem to be moving oddly slowly. Every inch of you trembles. “Is my car going to blow up?” 

The paramedic’s eyebrows raise. You hear something on your opposite side but can’t be bothered to look. “We don’t think so. Are you asking because of the powder?” 

He must mean the smoky stuff swirling about your car. You try to nod, but it hurts, and the man puts a gloved hand to your neck to stop you. 

“No no, don’t move,” he cautions. 

“That’s just powder from the airbags,” a voice on your other side says, and the paramedic makes a small sound of protest when you turn your head to find it. There’s another one leaning in the open door on your passenger side. He’s got fluffy brown hair lighter than the first’s and a large scar on one side of his face which stretches as his eyebrows bunch. “Can you tell us what hurts, please?” 

“My head,” you answer, bringing a quivering hand to your breastbone. “A—and my chest.” 

“No pain in your neck or back?” The first, darker paramedic asks, and when you confirm he nods approvingly. “Well, some of that might come later, but that’s good enough for now. All right, sweetheart, do you think you can stand?” 

“Yeah,” you say, sounding uncertain even to your own ears. He grasps your forearm in one hand while wrapping another around your back, helping you out of your seat. 

As soon as you’re through the door there’s another set of gloved hands on your opposite arm. You look up to see a third man, slighter than the others, helping the first carry you a short distance to a gurney. 

And daylight is something else. Your head and chest hurt worse than before, but it doesn’t help that you very nearly stop breathing when you take in the sight of the three paramedics who have surrounded you. 

“Can you tell us what you remember from the accident?” The second one, the one who’d come through your passenger door—you can see in the sunlight that he has more scars than just the one, though he’s no less beautiful for it—asks. There’s a gentleness to the set of his brows as he frowns at you, pressing something to your forehead. 

A policeman makes to approach you, and the curly-headed one turns, taking on a sternness that doesn’t suit him as he wards the other man off with a hand and a few quiet words. 

“Hey.” The scarred paramedic brings your attention back to him. “Do you know what happened?”

“I…” Fuck, you can’t tell if you’re woozy from whatever’s happening with your head or just the attention from the three of them. They’re moving you, other people and cars passing in your periphery as they wheel the gurney towards an ambulance. “I wrecked my car?” 

The third paramedic laughs, the sound sharp and crisp despite the general fuzziness surrounding you. He’s got longish, inky black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “It’s not a trick question, dollface. And the state of your car isn’t really what we’re worried about right now.” 

“Sirius,” the scarred one chides. You think distantly that Sirius is an odd name. Unique and pretty-sounding. “Do you remember if you fell asleep, love?” 

You want to shrink away from his attentive stare, but his hand on your forehead holds you in place. “I’m not sure,” you say. “Was there—are the people in the other car okay?” 

“Pretty sure she was just waking up when I got to her,” the first paramedic says, curls bouncing slightly as he stations himself by your feet and helps lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance. “Yeah, sweetheart, everyone else is alright. Might be a bit sore tomorrow, but signing refusals of treatment as we speak. Do you feel sick?” 

Actually, maybe it’s the speed of the conversation that’s making you woozy. “No?” 

“Well, that’s reassuring,” he jokes. “That’s okay, just let us know if you do.” He flashes you another dazzling smile.

You think you might return it, but then light hits your eyes and you wince instead. 

“You’re okay,” the dark haired one—Sirius, you remember—reassures you. “I’m just going to shine this in your eyes really quickly. Try to keep them open for me?” 

You do your best, and he works swiftly as promised, flashing the bright white beam into one eye and then the other before clicking it off with a gentle pat to your knee. 

“Definitely concussed,” he says to the other two. Excellent.

“Okay, I’m just going to close this up for now,” the scarred one explains, voice low and soothing as he removes whatever he’s been holding to your head. “It looks like you’ll need stitches, but I need to stop the bleeding until we can get those done, yeah? It might feel like little pinches.” 

“Okay,” you say, voice embarrassingly shaky from the tender way he’s holding your head in his hands. “Thank you.”

He smiles. The effect is dizzying, scars pulling taut as the severity melts from his features. “You’re welcome, lovely,” he says softly. “How’d this happen, then? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?” 

You try to remember. “I guess so. I’m…not sure.” 

“That’s okay,” Sirius promises you. “James, can you check out that chest pain while I get a pulse?” 

The first one, who hasn’t seemed to stop smiling despite what you consider a fairly grim circumstance—though you imagine it might be run-of-the-mill in his line of work—steps to your side. The three of them move around each other so fluidly, like they can anticipate the other’s movements. Practice, you suppose. “All right, darling,” he says, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a self-assuredness you can’t relate to, and your face warms in response, “do you mind if I move your top down a bit so I can have a look?” 

You feel suddenly lightheaded. You try to nod, but the scarred one tsks at you, holding your head still with lithe fingers as he works on your cut. Thankfully, James seems to catch your meaning anyway. He’s exceedingly gentle as he wraps his fingers around the neckline of your top, pulling it into a V in the center of your chest. You follow it down with your gaze. The red line that stretches diagonally across the flat of your chest feels somewhat anticlimactic considering the deep ache that emanates from it, but James hisses sympathetically. 

“Ow,” Sirius agrees. “Yeah, looks like the seatbelt got you.” 

You try very, very hard not to think about how they’re all looking at your naked chest, all speaking to you so kindly, all touching you in their different ways. If you think too hard about any of it, you might actually die. 

“Tell me if this hurts, alright?” James looks at you before pressing down lightly with his palm. 

You start to gasp from the pain but then that hurts even worse, and your face scrunches in agony.

“Sorry, sorry.” He removes his hand hastily, putting your top back in place. “All done with that, love. It hurts when you breathe in, huh?” 

“Yeah,” you affirm croakily. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says again, touching your shoulder with an apologetic smile. You’d never been mad, but you go ahead and forgive him anyway for looking at you so sweetly. “I’m going to feel if your ribs are broken, okay? I won’t push down again.” 

You don’t have the breath to give an assent and he doesn’t wait for one, slipping a large palm under your shirt—what you wouldn’t give to have that happen under different circumstances—and feeling about your sides tenderly. 

The scarred paramedic’s touch lifts from your forehead. “Okay, that’s all set. Let’s get you out of here, hm?”

“You driving, Rem?” Sirius asks, and you notice he’s finished taking your pulse but hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist soothingly. 

“Mhm,” the scarred one—Rem—replies, putting away some supplies. “Did you confirm she’s in shock?”

“Yup.”

“Start an IV,” Rem instructs, and Sirius scoffs like yeah, I know and waves him off. You almost laugh at the easy familiarity of it. 

“Why do you think I’m in shock?” you ask as Rem hops out the back, presumably going to the driver’s side. 

Sirius softens. “Your pulse is a riot, pretty girl. Plus, you’re shaking like a leaf and you’ve gone a tiny bit blue” —he taps your lips with his forefinger— “right here.” 

You could pass out now. That’d be alright with you. 

James straightens, having already run his fingers probingly over both your sides. “Alright, we might have a couple of small fractures, but nothing too dire. Can I see your arm, love?” 

You give it to him unthinkingly, but tense when he starts feeling about the soft crook of your elbow with overly kind fingers. You’d think the effect of his touch would have diminished after he’d finished feeling you up underneath your shirt, but evidently not. 

“You’re okay.” Sirius mistakes your shyness for nervousness about the IV, wrapping his fingers around your chin and turning you gently to face him. His cupid bow flattens when he gives you a small smile and a shorter piece of his dark hair has slipped free of its confines, brushing his cheekbone. “You’re okay, doll. Jamie’s a pro, yeah? Just keep your eyes on me.” 

Well, if he’s gonna insist. 

[general-fanfiction]

Intimate Treasures. (Steve Harrington x Adult Store Worker!Reader)

Word Count: 4.5K

Y/N works in an adult store and Steve can't seem to stay away.

Warning: Smut, p in v sex, cunnilingus (m and f receiving), dirty talk, knife kink, sex toys, mature language

Weekdays were always slow at Intimate Treasures, most people either working their regular 9-5’s or simply too embarrassed to be caught in an adult store mid week. Opting to discreetly shop on a Friday or Saturday night, hoping nobody will catch them. I often find myself amused by the actions of our customers, ninety percent of which seem to be ashamed of themselves for purchasing such ‘dirty’ products, as they like to call them.

Upon the opening of the store, many citizens of Hawkins were vocal of their displeasure at the presence of such a place. Believing that there was no place in the town for us. They argued that by opening within the Starcourt Mall, we would be indoctrinating their children into believing that sex is something that should be enjoyed and explored freely. Rather than an act of love that should only be taking place once married for the sole purpose of reproduction. There have been numerous occasions when I’ve argued with people about this, lecturing them on the importance of sexual liberation and safety rather than shaming people for their choices.

It was during one of these arguments that I met him for the first time. Wrapped up in a heated debate with none other than the local priest who was offering to save me from hell, I almost missed the mop of fluffy brown hair that hesitantly crossed the threshold of the store. He was trying to act casual, as though being here was no big deal, but I could tell he was nervous. Fumbled movements causing him to almost knock over a display of free condoms. To which he pocketed a few in the shorts of his little sailor outfit.

“What you are doing here in this store is sinful, I am only looking out for you young lady.” My eyes snap back to the priest who is glancing around the place in utter disgust, one hand gripping the cross around his neck, the other clutching a Bible.

“If you think this is sinful, you should see what I do in bed, old man.”

Despite losing sight of the sailor, I hear a muffled laugh coming from down one of the aisles and I can’t help but feel pleased that I’m not necessarily alone in this argument.

“You could be doing so much more with your life! You don’t need this filth, the Lord can set you on the right path if you would just let me cleanse you of your impurity.” The man pleads, his words failing to provide the impact he is hoping for.

Resting my elbows on the countertop, I lean towards the priest, hoping he pays attention to me. “Listen, I know for a fact that the Bible doesn’t specifically mention anything about sex toys or masturbation and not all of us are lucky enough to be in a relationship. Though I’m sure your wife isn’t exactly thrilled with her sex life.” 

He gasps at my words, shuffling towards the door whilst muttering about ‘young dirty girls of today’. 

“Be sure to send your wife in, her first vibrator is on me!”

As the door swings closed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. Completely fed up of having the same arguments over and over again. My eyes fall back down to the stack of boxes by my feet, filled to the brim with new lingerie sets that need putting out on the shop floor. 

Not wanting to waste any time, I quickly add the inventory to the system before hanging the black latex to the hangers. I won’t deny, it’s a gorgeous set. Shiny black bralette, so thin that the strap of fabric is only big enough to cover the nipple, with a matching thong, which also happens to be just as small. It leaves very little to the imagination, and I would be tempted to spend my paycheck on it, had I anybody to wear it for.

Finding a spot in one of the aisles, I begin to hang the various sizes on the wall. Careful to make sure that they’re all in size order so that they’re easy to find. A shuffle of feet towards the end of the aisle pulls me from my thoughts, the sailor intently staring at different wand vibrators. Every few seconds picking one up before putting it back with a shake of his head.

“Need some help?” I ask, hanging the last of the lingerie up and strolling towards him.

His eyes widen as I stand next to him, a deep red blush rising on his cheeks and I can’t help but smile softly at his awkwardness. I’m never one to assume, though I’m fairly certain this may be his first time in any adult stores. If his blush is anything to go by.

“Sorry, I just don’t really know what I’m supposed to be looking for.”

“Something for your girlfriend?” I push, the question slips off my tongue easily, one I generally ask all the male customers that look in need of assistance, yet something in me is praying that he answers with a no.

I won’t deny that he’s attractive, even with the unfortunate attire that he appears to be sporting. He has a boyish look about him due to the costume, it’s cute and soft. However, his chestnut brown eyes are dark and I can tell that he is very much a man. 

“No, no girlfriend.” He admits, shoving his hands in his pockets, as he does so I’m able to catch a quick glimpse and notice the large size, backs of his palms displaying very prominent veins and I can’t help but squeeze my legs at the sight.

I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with me. Never usually finding someone so attractive upon meeting for the first time, yet I’m practically drooling over the man in front of me. Even if I am putting on a very cool front.

“This is kind of awkward to admit but I wanted a vibrator you know for when I do have girls over. Just for something different I guess, in case my performance doesn’t cut it.”

I’m taken aback by his admission, most men refusing to believe they couldn’t be absolutely incredible in bed and insisting they’re only getting a toy because their wife wouldn’t stop pestering. To have a man so open about possibly not being perfect is refreshing and I realize I’m most definitely going to need some ice cold water then this customer leaves.

“Oh wow, that’s so thoughtful of you.” I tell him, moving slightly closer to the wall of products in order to assist him as best I can. Carefully, I grab a hot pink box, offering it to him. “So this is the newest wand vibrator we have, it has three different settings and a very long battery life. Trust me any girl would love it, it only took me about five minutes to cum when I used it for the first time.”

His eyes are focused on the box, teeth catching his bottom lip as he reads the information on the back. Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, truly reading everything about the product in his hands. Something about him intrigues me, whether it be the sailor outfit or the fact that he truly cares about his sexual partners, I’m not sure.

“I’ll take it, thank you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The second time that the interesting sailor entered the store was only two days later. A Thursday evening, most of the stores in the mall were closing for the day, not us however. Opting to stay open later for more of a sense of privacy.

I’m idly flipping through one of the latest editions of Playboy magazine, staring down at the women sprawled out on the pages. They ooze confidence and sex appeal, something I could only dream of. Whilst I wouldn’t say I necessarily lack confidence, I most certainly do not have a string of guys desperate for my attention like the women in the magazine.

Completely wrapped up in my own thoughts as I turn the page, it’s only when a handful of products are placed on the countertop that I glance up. Boredom evident on my face, I’m counting down the minutes until I can close the store and head home for the night. That is, until I realize who the customer is.

“I didn’t think girls were into Playboy.”

Running a hand through his perfectly styled brown mane, he smiles at me as he speaks and I struggle to hide my excitement at his return. Though there is still a hint of red on his cheeks, he seems calmer this time, clearly less embarrassed by his visit.

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we don’t exactly stock academic reading material.” I joke, beginning to ring the items through the till.

Bottle of lube, metal handcuffs and black bondage tape. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to the kinky items that I ring out on a daily basis. Yet, something about the handsome sailor buying them has me weak at the knees and I have to look anywhere other than his face as I bag everything for him.

“Hey, I just wanted to thank you by the way.” Finally making eye contact with the man, I can’t hide my confusion at his words. “For your help last time, the vibrator was a big hit.”

“Oh right yeah. No problem at all, I’m glad I could offer my assistance.”

My smile falters, why am I jealous? I shouldn’t be jealous, I should be pleased that I could help another customer. Pleased that I’m allowing others to enjoy their wants and desires. However, something about knowing the stranger has already used my suggestion on another woman hurts. I sound desperate, it’s not like me to get hung up on a man I have only briefly interacted with twice and yet here I am.

“No seriously, it was the most intense hook up I’ve ever had and it’s all thanks to you.” He rummages through his pockets as he speaks, before sliding a piece of paper across the countertop.

Free ice cream on me - Steve.

“I work at Scoops Ahoy, figured I owed you one.”

“Now the sailor outfit makes sense.” I laugh softly, carefully folding the piece of paper and slipping it into my pocket.

“I know. It sucks, does not help me woo the ladies at all.” He smiles bashfully, handing me the cash to pay for the products.

“I think it’s cute.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop myself and my head drops to the floor, shaking it lightly, humiliated by what I just said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just-”

“Good to know, I’ll see you later.” He looks at me expectantly, awaiting my name, as he makes his way towards the exit.”

“Y/N.”

“I’ll see you later Y/N.”

The moment the door closes behind him, I slide to the carpeted floor, head in my hands, afraid I may have just completely made a fool of myself in front of Steve. Doing my best to get over how mortified I feel, I quickly stride to the door and flip the sign to closed, not wanting to humiliate myself further in front of any more customers tonight, even if I am technically supposed to be open for another hour and a half.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to God John, if you take these home and add them to your wank bank, I am going to kill you with my bare hands.”

This week seems to be one embarrassing event after the next, standing in nothing but the new micro black latex lingerie, I pose awkwardly in front of the only blank wall in the building, allowing the store owner to take photos of me on the polaroid. 

“Listen, we need to advertise what we have on offer, putting these pictures in the window is bound to gain more customers. Not to mention the added benefit of being served by the hot girl plastered in the window.” He states as though it's obvious, shoving a large kitchen knife into my hand which I take reluctantly. “Now spread those legs and lick the knife.”

Dropping to a squat, I spread my legs wide open, raising the knife to my mouth and seductively licking a stripe down the edge, careful not to cut myself. I may as well be completely naked with how little the lingerie covers, moving the knife to cover my vagina, I feign a gasp as he snaps another photo.

“You’re a natural, I’ll put these in the window and then I’m off for the night.”

I throw the knife on to the counter as I watch with folded arms how John sticks up the photos by the door. No doubt we’ll have complaints as each photo has me in increasingly compromised positions. It’s borderline pornographic.

Catching glimpses of the photos every couple of seconds, I can admit that I do look good. Incredibly good. They’re sexy and I feel empowered, it’s just a shame that they have to be on display for everybody to see. I’m all for being sexually liberated, I’m just not sure I believe everybody should be allowed to see me in such a vulnerable environment.

John leaves with a quick wave in my direction, flipping the sign on his way out so that I can finish my closing tasks in peace. Throwing myself down on the couch beside the window, I feel the shame start to flood my body. I begin to feel dirty and used, allowing my boss to take advantage of the fact that I have to follow his orders. 

Is this how the women in Playboy feel? Never once have I questioned if selling dirty magazines is unethical, believing that the woman in them felt free and proud that they can be so open and sexual. Now I’m starting to think that perhaps that isn’t the case.

With my head resting against the back of the couch and my eyes fixated on the uneven tiles on the ceiling, I hear the door click open beside me. Internally sighing, I don’t avert my gaze as I speak.

“We’re closed!” Voice snappier than I intended it to be, however, I make no effort to apologize.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just hoping you’d be here.”

Swinging my head to face the direction of the door, I match the voice to the speaker. Steve stands awkwardly in the entryway, eyes trailing over my body as I stand to greet him. His mouth drops open slightly, rubbing a hand over his plump cherry lips. Glancing down, I remember that I’m still only wearing the lingerie and heat floods my body.

“Shit, sorry. One second.” 

I awkwardly jog to the back of the store as best I can in the heels strapped to my feet, I’m careful to wrap the long satin robe tightly around myself before making my way back over to Steve. Who stands in the same spot, unmoving. Eyes focused on me as I lean against the counter, arms crossed over my body in an effort to keep the robe covering me.

“So what can I help you with?” I ask, voice shaking every so slightly due to the interaction only moments ago.

“You look incredible in that.”

Although my eyes are firmly fixated on the ground, I smile nervously at his words. Hearing the shuffle of his feet, I look up only to see him standing just a couple of feet away from me. Clad in his sailor uniform once again, I allow myself to gaze over his physique. Thick legs that wear the shorts well, tight in all the right places. Arms defined showing off the muscles he has built. Pulling myself from my thoughts, I round the counter, hoping that the distance between us will ease the ache between my thighs.

“Steve I really should be closing, did you need help with something?”

I notice his eyes fall to his shorts, an impressive tent having formed and I have to hold my breath so as not to drop straight to my knees. Without a word, he slowly reaches across the counter, gently knocking the robe from my shoulders, exposing me to him once again.

“Just tell me to stop and I will.” He speaks quietly, so quiet I almost don’t catch it.

There’s a look of animalistic hunger on his face, one that is new to me. A stark contrast to the boyish smile he usually sports. Within seconds he’s leaning across the counter, capturing his lips with mine, one hand tightly grasping the back of my neck for support, whilst I grip at his shirt. His kiss is fuelled by passion and while it’s rough there’s a feeling of comfort that I can’t describe.

Without thinking, I’m striding back around the counter, pushing him backwards so that he flops down on the couch. Allowing me to take a seat on his lap, his erection firmly pressed in between my thighs, if I weren’t so focused on the moment, I’d most certainly be embarrassed by the wetness that begins to drip down my thighs.

Grinding myself slightly, I tug at his top, pulling it over his head quickly before throwing it behind me. His lips attach to my neck and I can feel him sucking gently, determined to leave a mark. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop myself, sparking a fire in his eyes as he grips my hips, guiding them to roll over his clothed length even harder.

His fingers move with haste as he works at the knot holding the flimsy bralette together, prying it off my body the moment the ties become loose. Grabbing his jaw, I pull his face back to mine, kissing him with burning desire as his hands move to palm my breasts. Our tongues entwine as his fingers brush over my nipple, releasing a soft gasp from me, to which he takes advantage. Dipping his head to suck and bite marks into my chest, I grab his hair tugging softly with every moan that he extracts from my body.

I can hear a groan escape his mouth, to which he covers it up quickly by dragging his tongue over my nipple. His hands playing with the other so as not to focus all his attention solely on one. Steve sucks gently, drawing unholy moan after moan from my body as I continue to feel the heat between our bodies.

Tipping my head back and pushing my breasts further into him, I find myself pushing a hand between our bodies. Slipping under his shorts and offering a short squeeze, causing the man to murmur a soft fuck as he continues to play with my nipples. From feeling his length in my hand, I can tell he’s big, bigger than I anticipated and much bigger than I’ve ever had. It scares me equally as much as it excites me.

It’s only when I begin to start delicately stroking up and down, that he pushes me to the side. Throwing me onto the couch gently so that I am laid on my back with him standing over me. As he smiles down at me, I can’t help but find the contrast between his soft smile and the dominance he has just been displaying amusing. A cheeky grin evident on my face.

“Where’s that knife?” He asks, fingers brushing over my throat as he stares down at me.

“Knife?” 

“From the pictures.”

Nodding my head towards the countertop, I watch eagerly as he grabs it, clenching my thighs together as my mind drifts to what he is going to do with it. Much to my surprise, he gently pulls my body up so that I’m sat upright, before settling on his knees between my thighs. Pushing the thong to the side, he presses the blunt side of the knife to my heat, trailing it between my folds. When he removes it, it glimmers with the slick that is now definitely dripping onto the couch.

“Lick it.” He raises the knife to my mouth and I brush my tongue against it as directed, immensely turned on by the entire situation. “You’re such a good girl.”

If his words didn’t make me moan, I do when his tongue makes contact with my clit. Head falling back as I close my eyes, focused only on the pleasure he is giving me. Despite not having my eyes open, I am acutely aware of Steve reaching up to my throat and holding the sharp side of the knife directly on my neck. Pushing it gently, though not so much to draw blood.

“God, you’re such a good girl.”

He switches between sucking and licking my clit, his free hand moving to push two fingers into me ever so slowly. The sounds are inherently sinful, the way he’s lapping up everything I can offer him is downright filthy and yet I feel like I’m in heaven. He devours me as though I’m his last meal, moaning against me, vibrations adding to the already exhilarating pleasure I’m experiencing. God, if this is what he can do with his tongue, there was no reason for him to buy a vibrator.

As he continues to push his fingers into me at an unruly pace, his tongue swirls circles against my clit, pushing me further and further to the edge. My stomach feels tighter and I try to close my thighs, though he reacts by pushing the knife closer to my throat, reminding me of its presence.

“Holy fuck.” I whisper, coil within me snapping and my legs twitching as he continues to lick up anything I have left.

With a pleased grin, he pulls himself away from me, rising to his feet and even in my post orgasm daze, I drop to my knees. Hurriedly pulling his shorts down to his ankles, I grab his erection with both hands. Mouth falling open in shock as I wrap both my hands around him.

“Jesus Christ.” My voice is almost silent yet Steve still hears me, chuckling at my words.

“You gonna be able to handle it?” He asks and I waste no time in nodding, gazing up at him, eyes filled with lust. “Yeah you are.”

In an attempt to calm my nerves, I hesitantly lick from the tip to the base, mouth watering as I hear Steve’s breaths become shakier. Wrapping my lips around the tip, I slowly begin to bob my head up and down, unable to take the whole thing but trying my hardest. I allow myself to coat his member with my spit, using my hands to stroke whatever I can’t fit in my mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily with a deep guttural moan and I can’t help but gag, eyes watering as he hits the back of my throat. 

Pulling back with a gasp for air, I continue to stroke him with one hand, the other reaching for his balls. As I lean in to go for round two with my mouth, he grabs my hair softly, pulling me to look up at him. With mascara streaks running down my and saliva falling from one corner of my mouth, Steve smirks.

“I’d let you do that forever if I wasn’t so desperate to feel you.”

He helps me up, pushing my body over the countertop, before pulling the thong off me completely. I spread my legs for him, allowing him to see the effect he has on me, he circles my clit with one finger as his other hand grips his length. The tip smacking against me as he nervously rubs it over my hole. 

“Steve please, I want you so bad.” I beg, feeling myself clenching around nothing as he teases me.

“Fuck you’re perfect.” He cautiously pushes the tip into me, my hands gripping the wood of the countertop at the stretch and I squeal slightly, from a mixture of pleasure and pain. “My perfect girl.”

He continues to push himself inside of me for what feels like an eternity, just when I think I’ve taken him all, he pushes further. I’ll admit it has been a while and with Steve’s size, the stretch burns and yet I want nothing more than to feel him inside of me forever.

The gentleman he is, he stills once completely sheathed within me, awaiting confirmation from me that he is able to move.

“Steve please fuck me now.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice and instantly pulls himself out, almost completely before slamming back into me. Balls slapping against my clit in a way that teases me as he practically rips me in half. One hand pushes on my back, firmly holding me down against the counter as he continues to pound into me. The other grips my hip, knife still in hand though neither of us seem to pay any attention to it. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this since the moment I saw you.” He states between moans, slamming into me at an almost brutal pace.

I’m able to slip one of my hands between the wooden surface and my body, bringing it to the space between my legs and gently teasing my clit, resulting in a string of profanities falling from my lips. Steve notices this and bats my hand away, taking over himself. His fingers are like magic and combined with the way he is ramming himself into me, I can feel myself on the brink of cumming once again.

“Oh my god, Steve I’m so close.” 

Upon hearing this, he pulls my body upright, peppering kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck as he continues to drill into me at the same rough pace. Within a matter of seconds, I find vision spotting as I fall over the edge. Thighs sticky and wet with the remnants of my second orgasm. Steve allows me to fall back onto the countertop, continuing his assault on my vagina and the overstimulation drives me crazy. I’m a complete moaning mess and by the time he stills with a soft grunt, I have even more tears in my eyes.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He murmurs, pulling out of me gently and pressing yet another kiss to my neck.

Turning around to face him, he has a lazy fucked out grin on his face and I can’t help but feel proud that I’m the reason for that smile. I smile at the thought, and at the feeling of his cum beginning to spill out of me and down my legs. Steve takes my hands in his and flops back onto the couch, wrapping his arms around me as I rest my head on his chest.

“You know I actually came here hoping I would work up the courage to ask you on a date but this was so much better.” He admits, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

“Wow so I missed out on a date?” I tease, hugging into him even tighter.

“I mean, we can always break into Scoops and go have that date now.” He suggests, voice soft as though he’s afraid I will reject him.

“That sounds perfect.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 10! of SpecGru reader. This is a little short, but I was so excited to post because NOVA.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex - oral, female receiving

Nova is your partner for the day – running drills as guest instructors for recruits, working them so hard they don’t have enough air to make any stupid, sexist remarks. The two of you spend all day flirting like a new lovesick couple, your hand drifting low on her back while she teases you with double entendres. Press her up against the wall outside the dining hall after lunch, licking the taste of apple off her lips while she tangles clever fingers in your hair.

Don’t care about who might be watching, or who cares. Not like your captain does. The opposite really, as he sidles up behind you while you’re spotting Nova in the gym. He slaps your ass so hard it damn near echoes, smirking at your scandalized face while she quickly reracks so that she can laugh.

“How are my girls doin’ today?” he chuckles.

“Right as rain, cap,” Nova answers, beaming when he cups her cheek.

“Can’t be anything but good with our star girl around,” you reply, winking at her. Bark a laugh when she smacks you in the thigh.

“Yeah?” he asks, a note of sincerity in his voice now. “Those shitheads leavin’ you alone?”

You blink, realize that there has been a distinct lack of 141 overtures today. No wonder you’re in such a good mood. An orgasm in the morning, your pretty, hyper-competent girlfriend all day, and no shitty former teammates? That’s practically a vacation lately.

“Do I have you to thank for that, sir?” you ask. Remember him saying something about talking to Price yesterday.

“You can thank me later,” he answers with a little smirk.

“Gladly, sir.” He’s getting more than that at this rate.

“Just wanted to check in on you two,” he continues, tweaking your nose, “and there’s an intel brief at 1600.”

“Yessir,” you and Nova reply together.

He chuckles again, gives you both one last fond look, then takes his leave.

“Finish up in here, shower, and get there a bit early?” Nova suggests.

You turn back to her, wipe a bit of sweat off her forehead with your forearm. She huffs in (only half fake) disgust and lays back on the bench again. She’s still got half a set to finish.

“Yeah, I want to steal Price’s usual seat,” you answer.

“You petty little tart,” she chuckles.

You lean your elbows on the bar and lean over her, arching your eyebrows playfully. “I’m your petty little tart.”

“Have always had a sweet tooth,” she muses.

You laugh and get off the bar so that she can continue. Of course, you’re keeping a close eye on her – but lord, she’s distracting. Thick thighs and solid abdomen, her tank-top is even sticking to the flexing muscles. And her arms. You’re not even being subtle, drinking in each deliberate rise and fall of the metal bar. Following droplets of sweat down her biceps…

“You mind?” she huffs, though not without amusement.

You jolt a bit, flushing as you help her rerack again. She sits up, a mischievous curl to her full lips.

“What’s got into you, huh?” she asks, tilting her head.

You shrug as you switch places, trip up a bit when you realize just how nice the view is. Even thoroughly sweaty, she smells a bit like coconut. Damn.

“Not you, unfortunately,” you reply absently.

She chuckles, tapping a finger against your forehead. “Tell ya what, love – you do five extra reps and we can make that happen.”

You’ve never flown through a workout so fast.

--

You damn near stumble into the shower stall, lips and tongue tangled with Nova’s. The flimsy curtain flutters haphazardly behind her as you reach blindly for the knob. Ice cold water drenches your back, but it does nothing to cool the desire blazing in your gut. Not when she’s peeling herself out of her compression pants, shimmying out of her damp shirt, and wriggling out of her sports bra.

Don’t even care about your own clothes, dropping to your knees in awe. She’s absolutely gorgeous, your girl. Pretty brown skin interrupted by pale patches like scattered clouds, meeting of earth and sky right there in front of you. Something divine about that, you think vaguely. She certainly looks the part, all strength and confidence, dark eyes smoldering like coals. Interrupted only by slashes of scar tissue and the SpecGru tattoo on her forearm.

You’ll never get tired of looking at her.

“C’mere, love,” you murmur, hooking your fingers behind her thigh and gently urging her closer.

She laughs a bit, though there’s a breathless edge to it that makes you perk up like a dog.

“You’re still dressed, daft thing.”

You shake your head. “That can wait.”

Despite your deal in the gym, there’s nothing you want more right now than to take care of her. Just leave her a shaky, whimpering mess, until your shirt is wet with her rather than water or sweat.

“Let me take care of you, baby?” you breathe, hands skimming up her soft thighs. You caress your thumb over her labia, licking your lips at the stickiness already gathered there. “Please, Nila.”

She shudders hard. You groan softly, trailing kisses over the bundle of tissue protecting her lower tummy. Can feel her twitching a bit from the ticklish sensation of your hair brushing her ribs.

“Y-your sure?” she asks. “I haven’t washed off yet…”

“Don’ care,” you mumble, scraping your teeth over the sharp cut of her hip. Tease eager fingertips over her leaking slit, playing in the trim curls. “I gotta taste you. Stay hydrated ‘n all that.”

She tries to scoff, but it’s overtaken by a wobbly moan when you suck a modest mark into her inner thigh. Keegan’s going to pout when he sees it; that’s his favorite spot to claim on all of you.

“Yeah, babes,” she gasps, “g-go ahead.”

It’s probably pathetic, how quickly you faceplant into her pussy. Can’t bring yourself to care when the taste of her bursts across your desperate tongue. A bit of salt, but all her, earthy. You lap at her with the flat of your tongue, starting at her dripping entrance and working slowly up until you curl the tip over her slippery, swollen clit. Again and again. Until all your thoughts whittle down to this, to her. To the helpless clench of her empty cunt and the involuntary buck of her hips. Nothing to calm your thoughts like taking care of your angel.

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, blunt nails scraping over your scalp.

Your eyes roll back as shivers chase down your spine, moaning into her cunt just to return the effect. Love how her head tips back, knees quaking. You scoot in a bit closer, hook her knee over your shoulder to offer some stability. Then focus your attention on that button of nerves, sucking it gently into your hot mouth.

“F-fingers,” she whimpers, “fingers too, love. Please.”

As if you could deny her anything ever. Circle worshipful fingers around her entrance, groaning lustfully when slick begins dripping down your wrist. God, she always gets to fucking wet. When she tilts her hips with a needy whine, you test one finger inside her, rubbing gently against her walls. But she keens, clearly wants more, so you stuff a second finger inside her, curling them as you flick your tongue over her clit.

“Fuck!” she cries. “Yeah, just like that. J-Just there, babe.”

And you’re useless to do anything but acquiesce, setting a steady rhythm that leaves her squirming on your mouth and hands. Feel like you could get off on the noises she’s making alone, your own pussy drenched and aching. But you can’t be bothered to spare a single thought or movement for yourself, hands and mind too full of Nila.

Your dedication is quickly rewarded by the telltale squeezing of her pussy, the increasing pitch and volume to her voice. Don’t dare change a single thing, as desperate for her to cum as she is. Could live forever between her thighs, just like this, listening to that voice break for you.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m… c-cum – fuck!”

You moan as she drenches your chin and neck, quick to support her weak legs so that she can ride out each and every wave of her ecstasy. Suckle at her sensitive clit and circle your fingers around her spongy g-spot until she’s shuddering, gently tugging at your hair. You pull away reluctantly; don’t want to overstimulate her (when she doesn’t want it) but pussy-drunk all the same.

Give her a second to catch her breath, dotting kisses like stars around your pretty Nova.

“That was perfect,” she coos, “come up here for a kiss? I miss you.”

You make sure she’s steady before standing, smiling, stupidly charmed. “I’m right here, sweetheart, nothing to miss.”

“Miss you anytime I’m not kissin’ you,” she replies dreamily, looping her arms around your neck.

You pepper kisses along her jaw until you reach her puffy, bitten lips. Tuts softly at their swollen state before she thoroughly distracts you by licking the taste of herself from your mouth.

“Spoil me,” she sighs against your lips.

“Not spoiling if you deserve it,” you reply, hugging her close.

She giggles brightly, tucking her face against your flushed neck. Stay like that for a moment, gently swaying. Then she nips gently at your collarbone.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

First | Previous | Introducing...

Masterlist

[zriasstuff]

The real thing- Theodore Nott x reader

Short, fluffy drabble

Theo dislikes you reading romcoms lol (tbh I wrote this in like 30 minutes out of boredom :’))

After everyone had left your dorm, you let out a sigh of relief. Finally, you thought to yourself. Unfortunately, due to the terribly cold weather, you had caught a cold. It wasn’t anything dramatic, but enough of a reason to not attend a class.

It turned out to be a blessing in disguise even. Now you could curl up in your warm bed, enjoy a hot cup of tea, listen to some relaxing music- and most important of all, read your favorite books.

Today's read was “the Spanish love deception”. Although reading and understanding classic literature was amongst your passions, cheesy rom com books still hit differently. Besides, since you were sick, you didn’t feel like thinking too hard.

Having read halfway through the book, you have to internally laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was so utterly ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?”, you suddenly recognize an all too familiar voice. You move your head up, and break into a smile upon seeing your boyfriend standing at the door.

“Feeling better?”, he asks gently.

Even if you weren’t, simply seeing him already brightened your day by so much. When you first started getting to know each other, seeing him always made you nervous and fidgety. Now, every time you saw him, there was nothing but warmth and intimacy.

“Yeah, I am”, you reply. “Wait, shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Why would I be in class when I could be next to you?”, he answered naturally, hopping right into bed with you. Immediately, he starts telling you about how boring his day was without you, while lightly caressing your hair. You look deep into his glistening brown eyes, realizing yet again how lucky you were to simply have him next to you.

While he’s talking, his eyes glance towards your lap, where your book was lying. Theo, seeming highly intrigued, picks it up and starts checking it out by flipping through some pages. Feeling happy that he has taken an interest, you start telling him what it’s about. Perhaps you could read it with him.

“Basically, there are these two people that work together and they hate each other. But, in reality the guy doesn’t hate the woman. Quite the opposite actually. Ugh- and he’s sooo sweet, does all these things for her, protects-

“Soo, you enjoy reading about perfect fictional men?”, he interrupts you mid speech. Theo didn’t sound so sweet now, rather a little doubtful.

“Well, it’s fun”, you admit. “It’s not the best literature ever, but a girl can imagine right?”, you say hoping for some form of agreement.

“Why imagine when you can have the real thing?”, he says insistently, which makes you chuckle. So that’s why he was a little off, he was jealous of a fictional man? Theo was of course just as perfect, and even better- he was real.

You take the book from him and put it on your night stand. “Theo, don’t take it that seriously, you shouldn’t care about what I read”, you say. Still, you couldn’t believe that his reaction was…well how he reacted.

“I don’t care, I just don’t understand why you would read about something like that, if you weren’t trying to tell me something…”

Hell, why was he being so difficult about this? You didn’t imagine that one could read into this so much. But, you had the perfect response for him.

Not letting him say anything else, you cuddle yourself into his arms and give him a small peck on his burning cheek. It was your way of telling him to stop worrying so much and to just shut up.

He must’ve picked up. Soon, he hugged you even tighter, and gave you a kiss on your forehead, whispering “I love you”. “And remember”, Theo adds quietly, “the real thing is so much better than anything you could ever read about”.

Ridiculous.

[bruisedboys]

sejanus plinth x fem!reader | sejanus is a helpless romantic, you’re totally shy under his affections, but he just can’t help himself!

implied shy!reader, coryo being a menace but in a playful way, sejanus being a tease, kissing, so much fluff!!!!

Coriolanus watches you and Sejanus with a look of mild disgust on his face.

“Ugh,” he says. “They’re gross.”

Lucy Gray laughs, up to her knees in the long, soft grass.

“Don’t be mean, Coriolanus,” she chides, digging her elbow into his ribs. “I think they’re cute.”

“Cute?” Coriolanus huffs, incredulous. “He looks like he’s about to eat her.”

Truth be told, Sejanus does look a bit like he wants to eat you. In the most romantic way possible, of course. You’re both sitting on the pier over the lake, and he’s got you in his lap, your knees caged on either side of his hips, his face so close to yours you’re almost kissing. He thumbs at your collarbone, fingers curled over your bare shoulder, hands warm on your sunkissed skin, gazing at you like you’ve been threaded with pure gold. The lake sloshes softly beneath you.

You peek over Sejanus’ shoulder, buzzing with fondness. “They’re looking at us.”

“Who?” Sejanus asks, distracted by the way you shudder under his touch. He thinks it’s sickeningly cute, how shy you are. “Coryo, huh? Don’t worry, honey. He’s just jealous.”

Honey? Heat creeps up your neck at an alarming rate. Any more of this and you’ll melt in a lovesick puddle. The pet name plays in your head over and over like a broken record. Honey, honey, honey.

“Jealous?” You ask breathlessly. You can’t seem to think straight when he’s got you this close. His hands on your skin, his thighs firm under yours. You glance over his shoulder again, self conscious.

“Mhm.” Sejanus brings a hand to your jaw and tilts your head in his direction with two fingers, forcing your gaze away from your friends. “‘Cause you’re so pretty,” he explains, voice like melted sugar. “And I’ve got you all to myself.”

You fear you’ll go up in flames. You hide your burning face by dropping it to his shoulder, shy and so so in love with him. Sejanus laughs softly, soaked through in fondness, and rubs your back with a big warm hand. Your spaghetti strap top means his palm graces a slice of exposed skin at the top of your back, and pleasured goosebumps erupt in his wake.

“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, wasn’t it?” He murmurs, his mouth ghosting your ear, so close he’s almost kissing it. He sweeps his hand up your back and then down again. “C’mon, come back out. I want to look at you.”

He pulls back slightly and gets a hand under your chin to encourage you up. You’re putty in his hands, surprising yourself at how quickly you oblige, how quick you are to do what he wants. He waits patiently for you to meet his gaze and once you do, you find your own feelings of overbearing fondness reflected back at you. His pretty eyes are pools of love, the honey sun painting them the colour of browned butter. You like him so much you could suffocate in it.

Sejanus grins at you, cheeks dimpling. He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly. His hand lingers at your throat.

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and much too eager but you can’t bring yourself to care. “You don’t have to ask, Sej.”

Sejanus hums before capturing your mouth in a swift kiss. You breathe him in and curl your hand around his neck, breathing in his scent of pine and firewood, something sweeter, like caramel. Your fingers brush over the short hair at the nape of his neck. He’s told you he used to have curly hair, and as much as you like imagining him with his curls, you like his buzzed hair just as much. He’s so handsome he doesn’t need curls, anyway.

Sejanus brings his hand to your waist and tugs you closer, desperate and greedy but never rough. You go happily, kissing him back with as much earnest as you can manage, pushing up onto your knees in your desperation to be closer still. You get lost, forget where you are, like you tend to do when you’re with Sejanus.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus is fake gagging into the grass.

“You agree that’s a bit excessive, right?” He asks Lucy Gray.

Lucy Gray just rolls her eyes. “You’re dramatic. They’re in love.”

Coryo scoffs. “Couldn’t they be in love somewhere else?”

Lucy Gray watches as you pull away from Sejanus and start giggling like a lovesick fool, while he tries to coax you back into another kiss.

No, she thinks. Not gonna happen.

[luveline]

Would u ever write about early days kbd! Steve and reader?? Maybe newly married or finding out about being pregnant for one of their babies?? I just love them so much ♡

kisses before dinner au —mom!reader, 1k

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom really quickly and then I’m leaving,” you call. 

Steve calls back. “Okay, babe. Avery, say bye to mommy! Can you say bye? How about you, Beth?” 

Avery calls a happy goodbye. Beth babbles unintelligibly. I’ll say goodbye in a second, you think, slinking into the bathroom with a plan in mind. 

You bend down under the sink where you keep things that wouldn’t hurt anybody should they get pulled out; ointment for wet rash, diapers, and the little disposable pregnancy tests for emergencies. 

You and Steve are careful after your lovely first Avery. She’d been a surprise, and you weren’t willing to be blindsided again, but now that you’re actively trying the more expensive pregnancy tests have been taken upstairs and in tens. How many have you taken in the last three or four months? Too many to count, and the latest only last night. 

The test said negative, but you’ve been pregnant twice already. You know what it feels like. You’d woken up this morning and turned to watch Steve still sleeping, and you’d thought about waking him, but you didn’t want to get his hopes up again without knowing for sure. 

You let the test develop on the sink, contemplative, drying your washed hands slowly. You can hear Steve laughing like a kid in the kitchen, Bethie’s infectious baby laughter quick to follow. 

Avery shouts something like, “Stop, dad!” but you’re not sure what they’re fighting about. 

Trying for a baby is fun. It’s stressful, sure, but you enjoy the process (whoops) and there’s something so hopeful about waiting to see when it’ll happen. Steve is doubly excited, his anticipation contagious, and you want another baby so much you’ve started buying baby clothes, a wardrobe full of onesies and you’re stuffing in new socks and footie pyjamas every other day. You’ve even picked out the new wallpaper for the nursery. 

You really, really want another baby. 

The test finishes developing. You stare at it until your eyes cloud with tears. 

Last night, you took a test that didn’t come out with anything. Steve hadn’t baulked. He never does. He’d given you a short kiss and a longer hug, whispered, “It’s okay, we’ll just have to try again,” into your hair. 

You can’t help yourself. You grab the test and sweep out of the bathroom down the hallway to the kitchen. Bethie’s eyes glow when she sees you, her small arms held out to you waiting to be picked up. 

You’re very very sorry, but you throw yourself at Steve instead. 

“Hey!” he laughs, pushing you away. “I’m covered in sugar!” 

You wrap your arms behind his neck, “I don’t care!” 

“What?” he asks, totally perplexed. Then, despite his confusion, Steve hugs you tight and lets out a contented sigh. “Why are we so happy?” 

You make some space between you again to show him the test. His hand comes up under yours slowly, bigger, often gentler, cupping your fingers as he bends down to see it. “Oh,” he says. He falls quiet for a few seconds. 

When he looks up, he’s smiling. “Honey!” His smile abruptly catches, tears filling his eyes. “Oh my god.” 

“No, don’t,” you say, your voice wobbling. 

Steve tries to pick you up and spin you around, but there’s no room and you’re too heavy, too sure-footed, arms around his neck and kissing up his cheek. “You’re acting like I’m the one pregnant!” he says, fighting to kiss your cheek instead. “I’m so happy,” —he kisses you— “I could die,” —his lips press rough to the highest point of your cheek— “I could cry!” 

“You are crying,” you laugh wetly. 

Tears rush down his cheeks. “Three is so many.” 

“What? Don’t say that.” You wince as Bethie starts crying. “She thinks that too.” 

Steve picks Bethie up from her high chair and Avery in all her little Steve-ness gives you a brown eyed, doe-wide smile, pointing at your face. “Sad,” she says. “You’m crying, mom.” 

“I’m not–“ You wipe your cheeks with the backs of your hands. “I’m not sad, babe, I’m happy! Mommy’s so happy! It’s making me cry because I’m super happy, I’m not sad.” You smile at her sweetly. “Do I look sad, my love?” 

“Up, mommy,” she says, lifting her hands. You pick her up and laugh another round of tears down your cheeks as she starts to wipe them away. “Happy.” 

“Extremely happy,” Steve says. 

“Dad, you–” She looks between you both with a cartoonish frown. “Dad cry too?

“We are both so happy,” you say. 

Avery mumbles some strange garble of words in her high voice, and then asks more clearly for her buppy. Steve starts to open one of her bottles but his tears suddenly escalate, and he can’t see enough to finish pouring in her formula. 

“We’re having another baby,” he says to you. 

You breathe in a much needed breath. “Yeah, H. Another baby.” 

He passes you Beth, forcing you to manage both of the girls in your arms, and gets about halfway down the hall before he whoops loud enough to make you jump. 

“Okay,” he says, jogging back. “Can I call Robin? I’m so fucking excited.” 

You dot kisses against small foreheads. “We can tell, can’t we?” you ask, to Avery’s amusement. 

“Can tell, dad!” she parrots. 

Steve grabs you and pulls the three of you into an ironclad embrace. “I love you,” he says, much quieter now. You honestly don’t need him to tell you, you can feel it in every moment you spend together, but you take the confession greedily. 

“Yeah?” 

“Too much,” he says. He starts kissing you again, an overflowing heap of them, until the girls are too jealous to speak and you’re as late for work as you’ve ever been. 

[be4chywritez]

sweet nothing | oscar piastri

oscar piastri x heiress!reader

I find myself runnin’ home to your sweet nothings

request : heiress of mclaren and oscar they meet at like a dinner at her estate or something and her dad or like father figure asks if oscar is single, and oscar says yes and her father figure tells them to go on a date and they end up going out maybe oscar is a lil asshole😊

beachy’s masterlist🐚

You brush the dirt off your hands, glancing proudly at the roses you’ve just planted. The soil is warm under your fingers, and you lean back, wiping sweat from your forehead. A small smile plays on your lips as you admire the neat rows of blooms, but your peace is broken when you hear your name being called.

You turn, blinking against the sunlight, and spot your grandfather standing by the patio, his brows furrowed in that way he always does when he’s trying to look serious. Lando stands beside him, grinning widely, and next to him is someone you don’t recognize—a tall guy with messy brown hair and a quiet expression.

Your grandfather calls again, his voice a little sharper now. “Come here for a moment.”

You dust your hands off on your shorts and shuffle over, feeling the light breeze cool the sweat on your skin. Lando’s grin widens as you approach. “Still playing in the dirt, I see,” he teases.

“Always,” you respond, flashing him a playful smile. Your gaze drifts to the new guy, and your curiosity piques. He stands a little more stiffly than Lando, like he’s not quite sure what to do with himself. There’s something about the way he glances at you—polite, but distant—that makes you feel like you’re meeting someone important.

“This is Oscar Piastri,” Lando says, nudging the guy next to him. “Newest McLaren driver.”

Oscar smiles at you, though it’s small and a bit shy, like he’s not used to all the attention. “Hi,” he says, his accent lilting in a way that catches your attention.

“Hi,” you reply, a little awkward, but you can’t help but smile back. You try to remember if you’ve heard his name before, but your mind draws a blank. Racing was never something you followed closely, even if it was always around you.

Before you can say anything else, your grandfather clears his throat, his eyes twinkling with something that makes you uneasy. “Oscar’s a fine driver,” he says, his voice heavy with authority. “I think it would be good for you two to spend some time together.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Wait… what?”

Your grandfather’s expression doesn’t falter. He crosses his arms, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “Oscar, are you single?” he asks, turning the conversation before you can even process what he’s suggesting.

Oscar looks a little startled, his eyes darting from your grandfather to you, then back again. “Uh, yes, sir,” he answers, and you notice his fingers fidget slightly, like he’s not sure how to react either.

“Good,” your grandfather replies, his tone firm. “Then I suggest you take my granddaughter out on a date.”

You feel your cheeks warm, your mouth dropping open slightly. “A—date?”

Oscar looks as surprised as you feel, and for a second, you’re not sure who’s more uncomfortable. But then he nods, his voice soft but steady. “If that’s what you want, sir.”

You don’t know what to say. You glance at Oscar, who looks just as confused as you are, but there’s something in his gaze—something careful and maybe even curious. He doesn’t seem like the type to argue with your grandfather, and honestly, neither are you.

Lando, ever the instigator, lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting.”

You smile awkwardly, not sure what to make of it all. Oscar offers you a small, almost apologetic smile, and you feel a strange flutter in your chest. Maybe it won’t be so bad. He seems nice enough, and if nothing else, it’ll be a chance to get to know him.

The next day, you find yourself standing in front of a trendy restaurant in the heart of the city. It’s not the quiet, tucked-away café you were imagining, but rather a bustling spot with large windows, modern decor, and a steady stream of people coming and going. Your stomach twists with nervous excitement as you spot Oscar standing by the entrance, looking cool and collected in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans.

“Hey,” he greets you with a brief smile, his hands in his pockets. There’s a casual confidence in the way he stands, but something about his demeanor feels a little… distant, like he’s already halfway checked out of the conversation before it even begins.

“Hey,” you reply, smiling back as he steps aside to let you walk in first. The restaurant hums with energy—clinking glasses, soft chatter, and the occasional laugh. You feel a little out of place, like maybe this is fancier than you were expecting.

Oscar pulls out your chair, but there’s something about the motion that feels more like routine than a thoughtful gesture. As you sit down, he moves quickly to his own seat, already glancing at the menu like this is just another pit stop in his day.

“So, you like this place?” you ask, trying to break the ice.

“Yeah,” Oscar says with a short nod, eyes still scanning the menu. “It’s close by, and the food’s good.” His tone is polite, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s keeping things at arm’s length.

You fiddle with your napkin, glancing around at the other patrons—groups of friends laughing together, couples holding hands. You can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. You were hoping for something quieter, more personal, but this feels… different.

The waiter comes by, and you both place your orders. Oscar seems at ease, chatting with the waiter casually, but when his attention turns back to you, there’s a moment of awkward silence. You search for something to say, but it’s hard to get a read on him. He’s polite, sure, but there’s a wall up—one you can’t quite figure out how to get past.

“So, what do you do for fun?” you ask, trying to steer the conversation into something light.

Oscar leans back, shrugging a little. “Mostly training, to be honest. Racing takes up a lot of my time.”

You nod, not sure what to say next. He’s not giving you much to work with, and you start to wonder if this was a bad idea. Maybe he’s just busy, or maybe he’s just not interested. Either way, the conversation feels stilted, like you’re trying too hard to fill the gaps.

“Do you follow F1?” he asks, breaking the silence.

You bite your lip, feeling a little embarrassed. “Honestly, not really,” you admit. “I mean, I know about it because of my family, but I’ve never really been that into it.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Kind of ironic, don’t you think?”

You flush slightly, not sure how to take that. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t push further, just takes a sip of his water and glances out the window, his mind seemingly elsewhere. You feel a flicker of disappointment. This wasn’t how you imagined your first date going—Oscar seemed nice enough, but there’s a coolness to him that you can’t shake.

As the food arrives, you try to make the best of the situation, steering the conversation back to lighter topics. You talk about your garden again, hoping to spark some interest, but while Oscar listens, he doesn’t offer much in return. Every now and then, he glances at his phone, not enough to be rude, but enough to make you wonder if he’s distracted by something else.

“Sorry,” he says once, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Just… work stuff.”

You nod, trying to brush it off, but it adds to the growing sense that maybe this date isn’t a priority for him. You had expected a chance to connect, to get to know him beyond the racer image, but it feels like you’re barely scratching the surface.

Still, you don’t want to give up just yet.

“Have you always wanted to be a driver?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Oscar’s gaze flicks to you, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, since I was a kid. I was pretty focused on it, even when I was younger. It’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do.”

For a moment, you see a glimpse of something more—a passion that runs deep, something that makes him tick. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone again, his expression neutral once more.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of small talk and polite conversation, but the spark you had hoped for never really comes. As the check arrives, Oscar pulls out his card without hesitation, glancing at you with a half-smile.

“Ready to head out?” he asks.

You nod, feeling a little deflated, but you don’t want to show it. Maybe this was just a bad day for him. Maybe he’s just not the type to open up easily. Either way, you feel like there’s something you’re missing, something that keeps him at a distance.

As you both step out into the cool evening air, Oscar walks you to the curb where his car is parked. He pauses for a moment, looking at you, and for a brief second, you wonder if he’s going to say something that might change the tone of the evening.

But instead, he just smiles—a little tired, a little distracted. “It was nice hanging out with you,” he says, his tone polite but nothing more.

“Yeah, it was,” you reply, trying to match his energy, though the words feel hollow.

Oscar opens the car door for you, and as you slide in, you can’t help but wonder what’s really going on behind those guarded eyes. There’s something he’s not telling you—something that keeps him from fully being here with you.

As he drives you home, the silence between you grows, and you find yourself staring out the window, wondering if maybe you were hoping for too much too soon.

Despite the awkwardness of the first date, Oscar lingers in your thoughts more than you’d like to admit. There’s something about him—his quiet intensity, the way he carries himself—that draws you in, even if he hasn’t fully opened up to you yet. Maybe it’s just the mystery of it all. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s unlike anyone you’ve dated before.

Your crush sneaks up on you slowly. You catch yourself thinking about what you’ll wear next time you see him. You imagine different scenarios in your head—how the next date might go, whether he’ll be more relaxed, more present. You convince yourself that it’s just a matter of time.

When the next race rolls around, you decide to attend. You tell yourself it’s because you’re supporting McLaren, but deep down, you know it’s because of Oscar. Even though things were a little off between you two, there’s a part of you that’s eager to see him again. Maybe things will be different this time.

The race is packed with spectators, and the air hums with excitement. As you weave through the crowds, you feel a mixture of nerves and anticipation. Watching Oscar on the track feels different now—you’re not just another fan in the stands. You’re here for him, and that thought makes your heart race a little faster.

The race itself is thrilling, and you can’t help but feel happiness as Oscar crosses the finish line. He doesn’t win, but he holds his own, finishing in a solid position. You smile, thinking about how you’ll congratulate him afterward.

After the race, you find your way to the paddock, your heart pounding in your chest as you spot Oscar among the throngs of people. He’s surrounded by his team, all smiles and handshakes as they celebrate a job well done. When he sees you, his expression flickers for a moment—recognition, maybe a touch of something softer—but it’s gone just as quickly as it appears.

“Hey,” you greet him, your voice a little too bright. “Congrats on the race.”

“Thanks,” Oscar replies, offering you a polite smile. His demeanor is cool, but not unfriendly—just… reserved. You start to notice the subtle distance between you, like he’s here, but not entirely.

“Maybe we could grab a drink later?” you suggest, your tone casual, but your nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Oscar glances at his watch, then back at you. “Yeah, maybe. Let’s see how the rest of the day goes.”

It’s not a no, but it’s not exactly the enthusiastic yes you were hoping for either. Still, you brush it off, telling yourself that he’s probably just tired from the race.

You stand there for a moment, watching Oscar disappear into the crowd. There’s a strange feeling lingering in your chest—something about the interaction seemed… off. But before you can get too deep in your thoughts, a familiar voice breaks through.

“Already scaring him off?” Lando teases, sidling up to you with his usual playful grin.

You turn to him, laughing despite yourself. “Please, Lando. I’m not that terrifying.”

He leans against the nearby barrier, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye. “Nah, just a little intimidating with your… I don’t know, your knowledge of roses or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a light shove. “Not my fault you have no appreciation for fine horticulture.”

“Fine horticulture,” he repeats with mock seriousness, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But seriously, how’s it going? Did Oscar hit you with that ‘strong and silent’ routine, or is he actually saying words now?”

You pause, trying to figure out how to answer. “He’s… quiet, yeah. But I think there’s more to him than he lets on.”

Lando hums, crossing his arms. “Oh, there’s definitely more. Just give him time. Maybe flash him a few more of those smiles—you know, the ones that make people all… swoony.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’ll be sure to use my superpowers wisely, then.”

Before Lando can retort, Oscar’s figure appears again, cutting through the crowd and making his way back toward you both. You feel a flutter of surprise. He was distant before, but now there’s a new intensity in his gaze.

“Hey,” Oscar says, glancing briefly at Lando before turning to you. “I was thinking, maybe we could grab those drinks after all?”

You blink, taken aback. “Yeah? I thought you weren’t sure about it earlier.”

Oscar shrugs slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting into the faintest of smiles. “Changed my mind. If you’re still up for it.”

Lando snickers quietly next to you, clearly amused by the shift in Oscar’s tone. “Well, that sounds like a yes to me.”

You can’t help but smile, a warm excitement bubbling up inside you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

The bar Oscar takes you to is tucked away in the city, with low lighting and soft music humming in the background. It’s more intimate than the first restaurant—smaller, cozier. It makes you feel like this is something real, like there’s something between you both that’s beginning to take shape.

You sit across from each other at a small table, nursing drinks, and for a while, the conversation flows. Oscar’s a bit more relaxed than usual, and it makes you feel like maybe you’re finally cracking the surface, finally getting to see the person behind the cool, quiet exterior.

“So,” you say, taking a sip of your drink. “What made you change your mind? You seemed… hesitant before.”

Oscar looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to come up with the right words. “I guess I just thought it might be fun after all. Figured it couldn’t hurt to get to know each other better.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of hope. “Yeah. I’m glad you did.”

For a few more minutes, the conversation rolls on, and you find yourself leaning into it—into him. He’s attentive, even charming in his own way, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race a little faster. But then, just as things seem to settle into a comfortable rhythm, his phone lights up on the table.

You catch a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of your eye—a name you don’t recognize, followed by a few messages that he quickly swipes away without reading. It’s subtle, almost like he’s trying not to let you see it, but the moment leaves a faint unease in the back of your mind.

You push the feeling aside, convincing yourself it’s nothing. Probably just a friend or someone from the team. But when his phone lights up again, this time with a more persistent vibration, it’s harder to ignore.

“Everything okay?” you ask, trying to keep your voice casual.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, his tone clipped as he checks his phone again before silencing it. “Just some messages. Nothing important.”

You nod, but the way he’s so quick to brush it off leaves you feeling unsettled. It’s like there’s a part of him still walled off, something he’s not telling you. But you don’t press, don’t want to ruin the moment.

As the evening goes on, you notice him glancing at his phone a few more times. The distraction is subtle, but it’s there, casting a small shadow over what otherwise feels like a perfect night.

You try to brush it off, reminding yourself that he’s a busy guy—he probably has a million things going on at once. But as the drinks dwindle and the conversation slows, you can’t help but feel like there’s something—or someone—else that’s occupying his thoughts.

The days after your drink date are… strange. You had hoped that spending more time with Oscar would bring you closer together, but instead, things feel more distant than ever. He’s not cold, not exactly, but there’s a guardedness to him that wasn’t there before.

He texts you, asks how you’re doing, but it’s never as warm as you want it to be. You tell yourself that maybe he’s just busy, that it’s just part of being a driver in such a high-stakes sport. But deep down, there’s a little voice in your head whispering that something isn’t right.

You push it aside, trying to focus on the excitement of seeing him again. When he suggests going to the beach, you jump at the chance, eager to spend more time with him.

The breeze is warm, a gentle contrast to the coolness of the sand beneath your feet as you walk side by side with Oscar. The beach is quieter than usual, only a few scattered people, and the rhythmic crash of the waves fills the gaps between your conversation. There’s a lightness to the moment—a sense of possibility. You sneak a glance at Oscar, feeling a small spark of excitement flutter in your chest.

You tell yourself not to read too much into it. But there’s a softness in his smile when he looks at you, a hint of something more, and you can’t help but wonder if this is what falling for someone is supposed to feel like.

“You’ve been quiet,” Oscar says, his voice cutting through the hum of the waves. He nudges you lightly with his arm, a playful gesture that makes you smile despite the nervousness you’ve felt creeping in since the start of the date.

“Just… thinking,” you reply, your eyes drifting out to the horizon where the sun is starting to dip low. “This is nice, though. I like spending time with you.”

You mean it. Despite the moments of awkwardness and the hesitations that have clouded your other dates, something about being here—walking with him along the shoreline—feels right. You’ve never had a relationship that felt this natural before. There’s always been some underlying expectation, some hidden motive from the people in your life who wanted you for your family’s name and status.

But with Oscar, you want to believe it’s different. You want to believe he likes you for you.

Oscar clears his throat, breaking the moment. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he says, his tone almost too casual. There’s a flicker of discomfort behind his words, like he’s trying to keep things light.

Before you can dwell on it, a voice cuts through the air, drawing both of your attentions.

“Oscar! Is that really you?”

You turn, and your heart sinks as you see a tall, stunning woman walking toward the two of you. She’s dressed effortlessly, her dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, and she carries herself with a confidence that immediately makes you feel small.

Oscar’s reaction is immediate—his posture stiffens, his eyes darting away from yours as he rubs the back of his neck. “Hey, uh… didn’t expect to see you here.

Her eyes flick between you and Oscar, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she takes in the sight of you together. “It’s been a while,” she says, her tone smooth, easy. “Didn’t think you’d be back in town.”

You stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say, and the moment stretches painfully long. The familiarity between them is palpable, and a sinking feeling starts to form in your stomach.

“I’m just here for a bit,” Oscar replies, his voice suddenly lacking the warmth it had moments ago. He seems uncomfortable—like he’s trying to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.

The woman shifts her gaze to you, her smile widening just enough to make you feel scrutinized. “And who’s this?” she asks, as if you’re a new accessory she’s appraising.

You offer a small, polite smile, though your chest feels tight. “I’m—”

“Just a friend,” Oscar cuts in quickly, his voice sharp and clipped.

The words hang in the air, and your breath catches. You look at him, confused, hurt—but he won’t meet your gaze. The woman gives a small, almost amused laugh before waving it off.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she says with a teasing tone, her eyes lingering on Oscar for just a second too long. “Catch you later, Piastri.”

With that, she walks away, her footsteps light on the sand, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. The sound of the waves seems distant now, like you’re underwater, and the weight of what Oscar just said presses heavily on your chest.

Just a friend.

You force yourself to swallow the lump forming in your throat, pretending the words didn’t sting as much as they did. “Who was that?” you ask quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Oscar sighs, his hand dropping to his side. “No one important,” he says, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He turns to look at you, but there’s something distant in his eyes—something guarded that wasn’t there before.

You nod slowly, feeling a pang of disappointment settle deep in your chest. The connection you thought you were building suddenly feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

For the rest of the walk along the beach, neither of you says much. The easy conversation, the subtle glances—all of it feels like it’s gone. Replaced by a silence that only grows heavier with each step.

You’re quiet when you get home, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that happened at the beach. You try to shake it off, but the look in Oscar’s eyes, the tension between him and Ellie—it’s all you can think about.

Your grandfather is in the sitting room when you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you.

“How was the date?” he asks, his voice gentle.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words get caught in your throat. You want to tell him it was fine, that everything’s okay—but you can’t lie. Not this time.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “don’t force people to like me.”

Your grandfather’s face falls, his brow furrowing in concern. He reaches out to you, but you pull away, the tears already starting to form.

“I just… I don’t want to be an obligation,” you say, your voice breaking. “I want someone to like me because they want to—not because they feel like they have to.”

That night, after you’ve retreated to your room, your grandfather makes a call. He doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t let on that he’s taken matters into his own hands. When Oscar picks up, he’s met with your grandfather’s firm voice.

“I’m sending the two of you to the ranch in Texas,” your grandfather says. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”

Oscar tries to protest, but your grandfather won’t hear it. “You’ll go,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You owe her that much.”

You sat in the plush leather seat of your grandfather’s private jet, the tension between you and Oscar thick and palpable. Neither of you had spoken much since the beach incident, and you weren’t sure how you felt about being sent off to Texas together. The thought of spending more time with him, especially after everything that had happened, made your stomach churn.

Oscar sat across from you, his eyes flickering up occasionally, as if he was gathering the courage to say something, but each time, the words seemed to die in his throat. You focused on the window instead, watching the runway lights blur as the plane took off.

“I know you’re upset,” Oscar finally said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet yet steady. “I want to explain, but I don’t think words are enough right now.”

You glanced at him, biting the inside of your cheek. Part of you wanted to hear him out, to understand why he had been so distant, but another part of you didn’t care anymore. The truth was, you felt used—like you were just another part of the game, just another person he didn’t really care about.

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” you said, shaking your head. “We’ll go on this trip, but when we get back to London, we tell my grandfather that it didn’t work out. And Oscar…” You hesitated, the weight of your next words crushing you. “Please don’t let anyone know that I was the other woman.”

Oscar’s face twisted, regret filling his expression. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

You nodded, turning away from him. The rest of the flight passed in heavy silence.

When you arrived in Texas, the sprawling estate greeted you with its endless fields and the familiar scent of wildflowers. Despite the awkwardness between you and Oscar, the comfort of being home, away from the pressures of your world, settled over you. As soon as you were alone, you made your way to the garden.

The garden had always been your escape—a place where you could get lost in the rhythm of tending to the plants. As you knelt in the dirt, your fingers delicately brushing over the leaves of the roses, you found solace in the simplicity of the task. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, but the sun was starting to dip low in the sky when you finally stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.

Unbeknownst to you, Oscar had been watching from a distance. He stayed near the old oak tree at the edge of the garden, watching as you moved gracefully through the rows of flowers, completely absorbed in your work. There was something peaceful about the way you lost yourself here—so different from the world of fast cars and expectations.

He leaned back against the tree, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure how he’d fix this—how he could make things right after everything he had done. Watching you, Oscar realized how much he had hurt you, and it wasn’t just the beach incident that weighed on him. It was everything—the emotional distance, the Ellie situation, the lies he had told himself.

But for now, he kept his distance, unsure of how to approach you or if you’d even want him to. You, lost in your world of flowers and dirt, were completely unaware of his gaze.

As the night crept in, you finally left the garden, retreating back inside the house. Oscar stayed behind, his thoughts heavy. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about his career, his public image, or what other people wanted from him. He was thinking about you.

The morning sun was bright as you headed to the stables, hoping a horseback ride might clear your head. Despite still being upset with Oscar, you welcomed the chance to be alone in the fresh air.

As you prepared your horse, Oscar approached, looking out of place. He glanced around nervously and gave you a hesitant smile.

“Morning,” he said. “I thought I’d join you, if that’s okay.”

You barely glanced at him, focusing on securing your saddle. “Sure. If you think you’re up for it.”

Oscar tried to act composed, though his eyes darted nervously at the horses. He awkwardly mounted his steed with the help of a stable hand, gripping the reins as if they were a lifeline.

As you led the way onto the trail, your horse trotting confidently, Oscar’s horse lagged behind, its rider stiff and uncertain. You could hear him muttering to himself, trying to calm his nerves.

“So, what’s it like riding horses?” Oscar called out, his voice a bit too loud, trying to mask his fear.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” you replied curtly, keeping your distance both physically and emotionally. You weren’t in the mood for small talk, especially not with Oscar, given the recent tension.

The trail wound through picturesque fields, and as the minutes passed, Oscar’s discomfort was evident. His horse seemed to be enjoying itself a little too much, leading to a few unplanned jolts that made Oscar clutch the reins tightly.

At one point, his horse decided to trot faster, and Oscar’s face turned pale as he tried to control it. “I think it’s going to bolt!” he shouted, trying to sound calm but clearly panicking.

You slowed your horse, turning to watch with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Just breathe and let the horse do the work. It’s not going to run off.”

Oscar managed to regain some control, though he looked more like he was bracing for a bumpy ride than enjoying it. “Easy for you to say,” he replied, trying to laugh off his fear. “You make it look so effortless.”

You remained distant, nodding but not engaging further. “Just keep your hands steady and trust the horse.”

By the time you returned to the stables, Oscar dismounted with an audible sigh of relief. His face was flushed, but there was a small smile of accomplishment as he looked at you. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I think I’ll stick to less adventurous activities in the future.”

You gave a noncommittal nod, barely meeting his eyes. “You did alright. Maybe next time, we’ll try something less… unpredictable.”

Finally, the time came to return to London. The flight was quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts. When you arrived back at your grandfather’s estate, you both faced him, sitting in his study.

“We talked,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “And we’ve decided that it’s best if we just remain friends.”

Your grandfather’s gaze shifted between you and Oscar, disappointment and concern etched on his face. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, nodding firmly. “It’s the best decision for both of us.”

Oscar added, “I appreciate everything your grandfather’s done for me, but I agree. We should just be friends.”

Your grandfather sighed, looking at Oscar with a mix of sympathy and understanding. “Very well. I’ll respect your decision.”

As you and Oscar left the study, you found yourself rushing toward your room, letting the tears fall freely down your cheeks.

You weren’t sure why you were crying, maybe it’s because you genuinely felt something with him or you thought you did.

Oscar Piastri was making you go crazy.

Beachy’s notes🐚: Mama is a lil rusty😞

[blackbirdsblackberries]

Don't drink the Kool-Aid pt.1

I'll create a tag list if people want to be tagged. There's a meaning behind Savior Anwir's name! This chapter is a bit short considering it's technically a prologue.

Your day is a boring loop yet one you’ve grown to love.

You wake up, get ready for the day, wait in line for your tray of shitty food, sit with your “team”, finish eating. 

During the morning you spend your time exercising until you’re about to collapse. This will end around lunchtime in which you’ll get your lunch delivered to wherever you are in the place. Afterwards you are expected to show your devotion to your higher-ups, your family, your saviors. The rest of the day you either practice combat or defense.

Tiring as it might be, it was your life and you loved it. 

You don’t remember your life before joining Savior Anwir in her division of the Daughters of Eve. The division is based in Gotham City, a place even the devil himself had abandoned. Atleast, that’s what you’ve been told. 

You see, you’re not allowed out of the confines of the estate. It’s too dangerous, what if men take you away and use you? What if you get lost? What if you accidentally get killed? It’s terrifying to think of and keeps you away from the outside world.

Today however things have gone a bit differently, after showing devotion to your saviors you and everyone else is herded to the main hall - which was just the foyer area. This only happens when they take on new members. 

Will they be mean? Would they be overjoyous? There’s so many options and you don’t like any of them, you don’t like new people or change, you like how everything is now.

You take your place in the second row. 

The first row is for kids, the second for teens, the third for young adults, the fourth for adults, and the fifth for people over that age.

Savior Anwir stands atop the stairs in front of everyone, two people next to her. 

One is a girl with blonde hair, tanned skin and striking blue eyes, she’s in a purple hoodie and black leggings. The other is a girl with short black hair, brown eyes and beautiful clear skin, she herself is in a blackish gray graphic t-shirt and light gray sweatpants.

People start to murmur, a teammate of yours turns to you. 

“They seem off, right?” You don’t know why she’s asking you. Frankly, you don’t care, your team is full.

“I guess, but they seem nice enough.” Is all you say, no point in conspiring against people who haven’t even been in your presence for more than a minute.

The murmurs die down as soon as Savior Anwir raises her hands.

“Now, I understand everyone is excited for new sisters to be joining us,” Savior Anwir glances at the two beside her as if silently asking if she’s correct to call them sisters. Savior Anwir doesn’t actually care, she is simply doing it to make them seem more welcomed - you’ve been around long enough to know that.

She continues.

“But we must calm down and not cause strain on their mental capacities!” Savior Anwir puts a hand on either girl’s shoulders. “Please, introduce yourselves.”

The blonde one speaks up first “I’m Stephanie but everyone can call me Steph!” She seems energetic and like she doesn’t truly belong here.

The other one doesn’t speak up. Steph chuckles and speaks up again “This is Cassandra, you can just call her Cass! She’s mute.” Mutism is common here due to many people coping by not speaking at all. That’s probably why she’s mute, she was attacked and now chooses to be mute!

Right? Right.

Silence envelops the room then and you don't miss how Steph awkwardly looks around as if expecting applause - something you will not do until Savior Anwir says so.

Savior Anwir nods. "Thank you girls, you are very lucky to be joining today, it just so happens we've found some of our trainees have been plotting against us. So we have openings for you!"

You raise a brow, who would be so stupid to plot against your own family? The very family that graciously took you in and nurtured you, protected you and showed you true love.

Savior Anwir holds her hands out. "The two traitors who have decided they do not love us are none other than Mary Hailstone and Annie Malcomb! Please, come up here and shake hands with your replacements!"

You freeze, Mary and Annie belonged to your team, you three were as close as people get in this cult. They wouldn't of betrayed you... Right?

You watch as the two slowly ascend the staircase, heads down and hands shaking.

When you betray DoE there is only one punishment.

Mary and Annie both shake hands with Steph and Cass before Savior Anwir hands the traitors a gun each.

They had a choice, shoot each other or shoot themselves. They chose themselves.

You watch as Steph's eyes widen in horror and Cass's eyebrows twitch slightly.

You suppose you should pick up on little things they do now considering they'll be your new team members...