#and I wouldn't be up thinking about them right now and i wouldn't go to sleep late and i'd be abke to study tomorrow and actually get into

[dollfacefantasy]

bucky barnes x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, boss/employee relationship a/n: i just watched brave new world so <3333 this is based on the request i am going to answer in a few moments.

1:30 pm, and a quick call to your desk. "sweetheart, could you come in here for a minute?" his voice crackled through the receiver. you knew what that meant.

not even five minutes later, he had you bent over the dark mahogany in his office, your pencil skirt hiked up around your hips, the pretty pink panties you'd worn for him pushed to the side so his cock could pump in and out of you with ease.

"fuck, mr. barnes," you whimpered, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. your hands slid as they pressed down on scattered papers beneath them.

a chuckle came from behind you. his hands gave your hips a squeeze. you could feel the mechanical flex on your left side.

"what'd i tell you about calling me that?" he asked.

"that- mmm- that i should only do it at work, but- ah!" you tried to explain, cut off by his tip brushing against a sensitive spot inside you. gripping the edge of the desk, you steeled yourself to finish your sentence. "but, technically, we're still at work, sir."

you heard him hum in acknowledgement, and in your mind, you could all but see that cute little smirk on his face. the one reserved for you. even when you were just his secretary, you were still the only one who got to see it so freely.

"smart girl. i guess that is true," he said, completing his statement with a particularly hard thrust.

you squeaked at the impact, and your eyes rolled back. despite your own noise, you were just happy the desk wasn't budging an inch under his momentum.

"but since we're 'at work,' you also know that you're supposed to be quiet," he said, his voice much lower and much closer to your ear. you could feel the crisp fabric of his suit against your back. his tie feathered along your side, causing you to squirm back on him.

"i- i am," you stammered.

"yeah? you think this is quiet? quiet enough that if anybody walked by those doors, they wouldn't hear you whining for me?" he whispered.

words of defense didn't come to mind. instead, you gasped as he nuzzled into your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses along your throat. your walls clamped around his length. you squeezed him, sucked him in with everything you had, your body wordlessly crying more, more, more.

"we wouldn't want any rumors going around, would we? people already talk about how cute my little secretary is, how she chases after me with stars in her eyes," he practically cooed. "they warn me about you, you know. i don't wanna get caught up in a scandal after all."

your knees almost give out beneath you, but being squished between him and the desk keeps you in place.

you knew what he was saying was true. people did talk about you and him. speculated if your relationship went beyond what was appropriate for a representative and his secretary. but fuck, you didn't care. not while sitting at your desk during the day or laying in his arms at night, and you certainly didn't care when he was fucking you like you'd been made just for him.

"they won't," you finally answered, words closer to a babble now. "they won't hear. only you can hear."

his lips curled into a smile against your skin. "that's right, baby. only me," he said with a soft peck to your cheek.

the moment of tenderness was brief though. his mechanical hand slid around to grasp your throat, giving him more leverage to drill into you.

at this point, you were right on the edge. he had settled into a rhythm that stroked you just right every time. your release was coming closer and closer every second.

you sucked in another ragged breath, unable to get the words out to articulate what you felt inside. but that was ok. he knew all your tells. he recognized the shaky legs and grabby hands and pulsing grip of your cunt.

his hand that wasn't on your neck wrapped around your body and snaked its way between your legs. the warm flesh of his fingertips swirled over your clit, rubbed back and forth in rapid stripes to give you the final push.

"i know, baby. i know it feels so good, and i know you're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. so cum for me," he murmured.

just in case, you covered your mouth with your palm. your body spasmed as you let release wash over you. to your surprise, you did remain quiet for the most part. only a few little sounds of ecstasy escaped your lips for your hand to muffle.

he groaned right into your ear, the noise quiet to the entire world except for you. it was only a matter of seconds before you felt the familiar burst of warmth and the uneven jolts of his hips against your backside.

once the two of you had both finished, you each took a few seconds to catch your breath. you couldn't take too long however because his lunch break was ending, and it wouldn't take a genius to figure out the both of you were doing a little more than going over briefings in here.

he eased out of you and then helped you clean up a bit. your panties fell back into place while your skirt unbunched to cover up your thighs again. you glanced in the mirror on the wall to make sure your makeup hadn't smudged. with a tug of your blazer, you were ready to go back out there.

"not even gonna give me a kiss before you go?" he asked.

that brought a little smile to your face. when you turned to him once again, he was put back together too. no remnants of you on his suit, all the buttons together again, every strand of his hair in place.

you leaned in for what was supposed to be a quick peck. but his arm looped around your waist and held you close for a few moments longer. your shy eyes connected with his when he finally let you pull away. he gave you a pat on the ass as you went to walk away.

"i'll see you after work, mr. barnes," you said with a little laugh.

[szatears]

had her first, stack.

summary: is it really cheating if he had you first?

pairing: ex boyfriend!stack x blackfem!reader

warnings: cheating kinda? (on reader's part), it's a little long, angst, ooc smoke, some mary hate, p in v, oral (fem receiving), heavy making out, descriptions of reader, use of n word, not proofread.

notes: this came to me in a dream i had during a nap LMAOOOO. also i hate using y/n i don't know why but i audibly groaned when i realised i had to 😖 what do we think of a part two?

It wasn't by choice that you ended up in the opening night of the juke joint. Your cousin Shirley, ever the music enjoyer, caught word of someone throwing a party to open up their juke joint, and as she usually did, she dragged you along with her.

Not that you would've said no if she asked, you knew when to appreciate good music too. If only you asked whose juke joint it was. Maybe then you would've prepared yourself a little more.

Shirley came by your mama's house to pick you up, the two of you walking the short distance to another friend's to hitch a ride with them.

You were ready by the time she arrived, your curls out of their usual bun, defined neatly thanks to your mama's hand. You chose something simple, not having enough time to be fussy about what to wear.

It wasn't a new dress, you'd had it for some time but rarely wore it. It was a deep green, almost emerald colour. Held together by spaghetti straps over your shoulders, the v-line at its front brought all attention to the dainty gold locket that hung from your neck. The dress, made finely from silk, reached your ankles, kitten heels also in emerald on show. It fit you perfectly, hugging your figure in every right place.

A thin shawl accompanied you with the dress, lazily hung over your shoulders to shield you from the breeze that would follow with the night, but also from any unwanted stares. You knew a certain someone would have something to say. That was, if he knew where you were off to.

When asked, you never said you were officially married, nor did you say you were spoken for. You usually left it at "I'm in a good place with someone right now." Because that's all he was at the moment. A good place. His name was Jeremiah, you met a few months back.

He hadn't made any attempt to show you he wanted to marry you, so you played as if that was the case. Though you wouldn't entertain anyone else, and neither would he. So in a way, he was kinda it for you.

Sure, you had your fair share of fun with him, but he couldn't ruin you if anything were to go south. Not when you already were, unbeknownst to everyone else except him.

"You gon' stare at yourself in the mirror all day, or...?" Shirley nudged you as you stepped out of the car, fiddling with the pocket mirror in your hand. You looked up at your surroundings, noticing the juke joint and the cars around it, then back at Shirley, a smile tugging at your lips.

"You know better than anyone what looks mean to a lady."

"Mhm. You sure it ain't 'cause you're seeing Stack again?" She smirked, taking your hand in hers as you walked towards the doors.

"You─── what?!" You stopped in your tracks, someone bumping into you as you did. Shirley widened her eyes a little, apologising for you. "Shir, what did you just say?"

"Girl, I been told you. This here's Smoke and Stack's juke joint. Looks like Chicago finally blew 'em back to what they know."

Your breath hitched as you fumbled at the thin shawl around you. "No, you did not tell me, otherwise I wouldn't have come." You didn't mean to snap at her, but of all people, Shirley knew what the twins, what Stack meant for you.

She sighed, turning to you. Smoothing your flyaway baby hairs with the tip of her fingers, she spoke gently. "I know you and Stack ain't leave it on good terms, but that was ages ago. You've moved on, right? Don't let him ruin your night, yeah?"

You sighed, nodding your head despite thinking something completely different. But there was no going back now. At least you were promised good food and music.

Stepping towards the door, you recognised Cornbread letting people in. He did a double take when he glanced at you, shouting your name out loud. "You ain't so lil' no more, though, my God! How you been?"

"Nice to see you too, Cornbread. God," Shirley rolled her eyes. The two of you grew up together, close since knee height, so everyone who knew you, knew Shirley too.

"Shut up, Shirley. I know it was you who took my dice at that last game," He bucked at her, referring to the last time the both of you saw him over at a gathering in town, years ago. "Anyways, y'all ladies have a good night, you hear?"

He let you both in, and immediately you were hit by the sound of the piano wavering through the joint, bodies dancing and mingling all over, the sweet smell of liquor that longed for you... You had to admit, it looked great.

"Here, let's get us something to drink," Shirley walked to both of you towards were the drinks were being served.

"What can I get you fine ladies... Y/N? Whatchu doin' here?" Annie's face lit up when she saw you, reaching over the counter to give you and Shirley brief hugs.

"I could ask you the same thing! This one here dragged me along with her," you budged Shirley, a bright smile on your face upon seeing Annie. It seemed not so long ago was the last time you saw her, but really it was years. Probably around the same time you last saw the twins.

"Girl, don't act like you weren't jumping at the chance to come with," Shirley laughed, handing Annie a dollar. "We'll take 2 corn liquors please, Miss Annie."

"We damn near the same age, calling me Miss Annie," she kissed her teeth, pocketing the money before pouring the drinks. "You seen 'em yet?" she asked, directed more at you. You took a sip from the small glass, shaking your head 'no' after.

Annie nodded slowly. She knew all that happened between you and Stack. Like you did with her and Smoke. The beginning to now.

Shirley finished her glass, handing it back to Annie before standing up from her seat. "Look, there's Pearline! You wanna go dance, or you're good here?"

"No, I'm alright here. I'll join you later though," you waved her off with a kiss to her cheek, choosing to sit with Annie for a bit longer.

The two of you spoke and spoke as she served customers, and yourself, about everything the last 7 years had done for you both.

You could see Annie's eyes wander off to something behind you as you spoke, and you, in your 'three corn liquors in' state, turned around to see what it was. More like who, it was.

Smoke took a drag from the lit cigarette in his mouth, his head slightly tilting to the side when his gaze settled on you. He was surprised, you could gather that much through his stoic expression. Never was one to give away much.

Tearing away from you, he nodded at Annie. "How's it going? Good?"

She blinked, before nodding. "Nothing wrong so far."

He nodded, turning back to you, taking another drag from the cigarette. "Good to see you, Y/N." He bent down to your seated height to give you a small kiss on the cheek, cigarette smoke still lingering around him. Smoke was respectful towards you most of the times, when he acknowledged you, mainly because Annie had a few words with him about his approach to some people.

"You too," you mumbled, fingers drumming the wooden table in front of you. You liked Smoke, even if most times you couldn't tell if he liked, hell even tolerated, you.

"You seen Stack yet?" He asked. When you shook your head, he only gave you a curt not, walking away as quickly as he did.

"Well he ain't changed one bit," you blew out a breath.

Annie laughed, wiping down a table.

─── ༉‧₊˚✧ ───

The joint was packed to the brim, fellas laughing whilst they rolled dice and racked up dollars, ladies dancing with their girls or men as the blues rang throughout the crowd. It was amazing, you had to admit.

You were leaning against a pillar, observing from behind the scenes as you tended to always do at events like these. You watched on as Shirley danced with a random man, occasionally looking over at you with a wink.

You shook your head with a smile, fiddling with the material of your shawl. You desperately wanted to leave it somewhere, but you knew you probably wouldn't end up getting it back.

Sighing, you began to make your way towards the stage so you could hear the words to the songs better, before bumping into someone.

It was a small bump but my, did it almost send you going backwards. It could only be a man with a chest that hard, and you couldn't control your facial expressions, a mean ass mug made its way to your face before you knew it.

"Sorry 'bout that, you good?"

You knew that voice anywhere. That bass, that drawl... From anywhere. Your head snapped up to his, the scowl still present.

You saw the realisation and surprise fill in his features slowly. Stack was lost for words, for once. He brought a hand to his mouth, removing the toothpick. "Hey..." he said, barely above a whisper. "Whatchu doin' here?"

Seven years and that was all he had? The scoff that left your lips was deserved at that point. "Excuse me," you waved past him, shaking a little at the fact that you just saw the man that left you in absolute pieces, acting like none of that even happened albeit he saw you for all of ten seconds.

"Y/N, hollon," you heard him say but didn't stop moving through bodies, desperate to get as far away from him as you could.

Just as you were about to round the corner to the edge of the stage, his hand caught your arm, pulling you back into what looked like a corridor.

"Elias, get off of me," you gritted, fighting the physical hold he had on you. He couldn't lie, hearing his name roll off of your tongue after all this time had him feeling giddy, but he ignored you as he opened up the door to one of the rooms in the corridor, pushing you inside.

"You hard of hearing? Let me out, I'm not playing." You attempted to push past him, but he stood planted, blocking the door.

"I'm not playin' either. I just wanna talk."

"You had seven years, why now? Hm?"

He deserved that, and so much more. He nodded his head, bringing a hand to his chin, stroking his goatee. When he took a step closer, you took one back, determined to keep this distance between you and him.

"Look," he sighed, trying to catch your gaze but you looked anywhere but at him. "I know I should've said something, could've wrote to you or whatever. But I had to protect you."

"Protect me?" You scoffed. "I ain't need your protection, what I needed was your love. Hell, you couldn't even give me that most times."

Stack didn't allow himself to be upset over your use of love in the past tense. "I did love you, I still do."

"Yeah? You tellin' ole girl the same thing too? What's her name again... Mary wasn't it?"

Stack kissed his teeth at the mention of Mary, the other woman who just couldn't let him go. He'd told you time and time again that she meant nothing to him, that it was just you, yet she still managed to be in the frame.

"Mary ain't shit to me, I tell you that all the time. And I mean it."

"You lie so much, I don't even know what the truth sounds like coming from you," you mumbled, walking away from him to sit on the unoccupied table. If you were going to have a conversation with this man against your will, you at least wanted to be comfy.

"I ain't mean to lie baby, it's the only way I can leave you out of all this mess." He walked towards you, hands in his pockets. "I missed you."

"A little too late for that. You don't miss Mary?" you tilted your head to the size, revelling in the way he rolled his eyes.

"How many times i gotta tell you I'on care about her?"

"As many times as it takes to convince yourself."

"Fine, I'on care about her. There." He stared at you, watching your reaction. When he saw the faintest twitch in your lip, he smiled, knowing he was getting to you.

He took another step closer to you, now stood between your legs. You let him part your legs, like he had done so many times before, his hands gently moving your thighs. He didn't let go of them when he stood in between them, just ran his hands slowly up and down them.

"I'm sorry," he looked right into your eyes as he spoke. "I was gonna come looking for you today, but i figured you wouldn't wanna see me. But when I saw you today... I had to speak to you."

"Elias..." you sighed. "You can't just come back here after leaving me like that all those years ago, acting like everything's okay. You don't know how much you hurt me."

"I do know baby, 'course I do. It hurt me too."

"Not as much as it did me. You ain't the one who had to pick up the pieces of me after you left, Shirley did that. All cause you weren't there and still won't tell me why."

He sighed, stilling his hands on your thigh to lift your chin up.

"I'm here now, and I ain't goin' nowhere. I'm not leaving you again, i promise."

"Your promises don't mean shit to me anymore, Elias. You can't just sorry your way back into my life. I'm not as easy as you used to think I was."

"And why's that, hm? Some to do with that so called man you call yourself having? What's his face, Jeziah, was it?"

"Fuck you, Elias." you pushed him away from you, getting down from the table. Before you could leave again, he grabbed your arm, pulling you into his chest. His arms caged you in, firm and secure in his hold.

"If that's the typa timing you on, we can do that. But I'm not letting you leave til you hear me out."

"I have heard you out. I don't wanna hear no more," you shook your head.

His fingers stroked the material of your dress around your waist, it was taking everything in him to not pull it off of your right there. "Nah, you didn't. Look at me."

He tilted your head up towards his. "I love you. Only you, you're it for me. What I did... I know it was wrong and trust me I wanted to come back to you so bad, baby. But I had to do it, for both of us. What kinda man I'd be if i didn't provide for my woman?"

The fluttering feeling at your stomach only intensified when he called you his woman, taking you back all those years ago.

"You left me without saying a word, Elias," you whispered, voice breaking as a tear ran down your face. Elias hushed you, wiping the tear away, both his hands cupping your face.

"And I will spend the next forty or however many years saying sorry. I mean that." He kissed your forehead, both of you closing your eyes in that moment.

You shivered when his lips left your skin, your palms resting flat against his chest. He pulled back from the embrace just a little, looking at you as he spoke.

"You gon' let me come back?"

He was serious, about it all you could see now. You didn't reply, just brought your hand to the back of his head, pulling him towards you. When your lips met, you swore your legs would've buckled if he wasn't holding you so tight.

Your shawl dropped to the floor as you kissed him, his lips meshing with your so perfectly it was like the last seven years didn't even happen.

Jeremiah was the last thing on your mind in that moment, you could only focus on Stack's tongue wrestling with yours. You let out a moan when his hands trailed to your ass, squeezing as you made out.

He was first to pull away, wasting no time in kissing down your neck to your collarbone, leaving little bites that were sure to bruise sooner or later. And you let him, throwing your head back against his other shoulder, letting him do his work.

It wasn't until he started to walk you backwards, when your legs hit the edge of the table, that you realised what you both were about to do.

"Wait, E, hold on..." your put your arm between him and you, his eyes snapping to your face.

"What's wrong?"

A lot was wrong in that moment, you knew it.

"If I let you do this, you bet not mess up again," you spoke seriously. He nodded, starving for a taste as he bunched your dress up at your hips.

"I told you baby, I'm not goin' nowhere, not away from you again that's for sure."

He kissed your lips, undoing the buttons to both his waistcoat and dress shirt, leaving him shirtless in all his glory. Your hands raked down his toned front, pulling him back onto you.

As he kissed you tenderly, Stack's fingers slipped into your panties, being met by your wetness, allowing him to easily slip into you. He groaned at the same time you did, your head thrown back as he nudged you to lie down on the table.

"He get you this wet, hm?" He didn't need you to answer, he already knew what it would be. It would be nice to hear it though.

You shook your head. "Fuck, Elias, just do it already," you whined, having had enough of his fingers teasing your clit.

"Aight be patient, I gotta make sure she remembers me," he smiled.

You were about to say something slick, before you remembered just how slick Stack could get. Besides, he already began to take your panties off, pocketing them in his trousers.

He lowered his head to your clit, kissing it gently. Your hand immediately went to the back of his head, lips falling apart as he licked a bold stripe up your pussy.

"Fuck, I missed it here," he mumbled into you, the vibrations driving you crazy. It's not like it had been ages since you were last pleasured, but it had been ages since you were last pleasured by Stack. He had such a way with you, a way that no one else did.

He continued to lick slowly, so agonisingly slow at you, and it wasn't until you squeezed his head with your thighs that he finally gave in. After all, he did have loads of making up to do.

His hands came to your hips, holding you just like he wanted. Taking your clit in his mouth, he looked at you as he sucked, his tongue swirling around it. You couldn't hold eye contact, not when he was looking at you like that, your juices coated around his mouth.

"Oh, my God," you whispered, writhing underneath him as he picked up the pace.

"Why you so quiet? He done turned you shy, huh?" he smirked when he noticed your state.

"Stop talking about him," you groaned, feeling your body jerk as he worked you out, tongue lapping you for all your worth. "Fuck, I'm gonna─── Oh, shit!" You came before you knew it, only Stack could work you like that.

He kept on eating you out through your orgasm, letting you ride out your high on his face. "Just like that baby, give it to me," he encouraged you.

You had no more to give, at least not in that moment. He let go of your hips, only briefly as he sat up. You caught the sight of his glistening face, his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick his lips.

"Come here," you mumbled opening your arms for him as you sat up. He pulled you towards the end of the table, meeting your lips halfway. The taste of yourself on him drove you insane, the kiss just downright nasty.

Stack fumbled at his belt, undoing it before he dropped his trousers down as you kissed the side of his neck, your hand wrapped around his throat as he took his dick out of his pants.

He saw the way your eyes glistened at the sight of him, smirking as he unzipped your dress. Stepping out of it, the pair of you were fully naked, nothing new between you both.

"I missed you," you mumbled, a tired smile on your face and he hadn't even fucked you yet.

"Yeah? You missed me or you missed my dick?"

"Ain't it a part of you? It's the same damn thing," you rolled your eyes as your hands caressed his broad shoulders, kissing them.

Stack slid into you with a groan, hooking your legs around his hips as he slowly pushed in, getting accustomed to be inside you again. he wanted to savour this moment forever, your face scrunched up, mouth falling open as you let out such sultry sounds.

He waited for a moment before he started to thrust in and out of you, biting his lips to hold in his own groans. He let go of one side of your hip, bringing that hand to cup at your breasts, squeezing as his thrusts hit you in the right spots.

"Don't you go quiet on me now," your hand wrapped around his throat, pulling his face closer to yours. Stack's brows furrowed at your sudden boldness, but you could tell you already affected him given the way his thrusts stilled for a minute.

"Shit, baby, whatchu doin'?" he groaned, his forehead resting against your as he dug you out. "Fuck, you feel so good, mama. S'like I was never gone."

He regained his composure, swatting your hand away from his throat and instead grabbing yours, not too harsh, just the way you liked it. The sound of skin clapping was the only thing heard in the room, save for your moans that not even your hand could suppress. Thank God this was a juke joint.

"Elias, shittttt..." you shut your eyes tight, the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching threatening to overwhelm you.

"Hold it," he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. He couldn't be serious, surely.

"Fuck, baby, I can't" you whined, nails scratching along his back as you tried to hold in your release.

"You can, just a lil' bit longer, mama." He sweet talked you, kissing your cheek as he neared his own orgasm. His hand left your neck back to your breasts, rubbing over your hardened nipples. It was too much, the way he was doing you.

"I can't─── shit baby I can't hold it," you whimpered, begging him to let you cum.

"Aight baby, give it to me," was all he said and you let go, a wave of pleasure blanketing you as you came, gushing all over his lower body. Stack fucked you through your orgasm as he came too with a low moan, pushing his seed in and out of you as he slowed down.

"Shit," he sighed out, looking down at the mess you both made. He slowly pulled out of you, kissing your lips as he used his dick to push his cum back in you. He was still the same nasty man you knew.

"I think fat ma missed me," he joked, laughing when you hit his chest. "C'mon, 'fore Smoke think I'm dead."

He helped you get dressed, conveniently finding and unused towel to wipe you both down. You dress now back on, you fixed your hair as best as you could.

Stack put everything of his back on too, tilting his head to the side when he caught you looking at him expectantly, "Yeah?"

"My panties, Elias."

"Nah, I'ma hold onto 'em fore you. C'mon," you rolled your eyes as he opened the door for you, being met with the sound of music yet again. You walked out before him, taking a deep breath and trying to act like that didn't just happen. You saw Shirley, walking towards her.

Before Stack could catch up wit you, Bo caught his arm, looking between the two of you with a smirk on his face.

"Ain't no goddamn way," he laughed. "You know she's in it with that lawyer guy up in Delta, right?"

"So, nigga? I had her first."

taglist. @childishgambinaax @abriefnirvana @blackisy2k @chrisevansmentee @siasoup @amethyst09 @heauxtales @skywalker0809 @thelightknight21 @klssngss @atomicearthquakemusic7 @oc3anbxbyxoxo @honestlyurslol @simpingfor-wakasa @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @favoritten @christinabae @junkie05

[luminasposts]

This might be out of character and is kinda unfinished and I also didn't check it for errors but hey, hope it's good and here we go :3

__

Practice had started as usual. Warm- ups, drills and a few scrimmages. The only thing different had been the mood.

Most of the time the team was in high spirits and complimenting each other on the court, but finals week had everyone stressed out of their mind. Jean had noticed it first when Cat rolled her eyes at Cody's constructive criticism before brushing them off. That seemed to have been the last straw for most of the team, because shortly afterwards Derek and Jesus got into an argument about the backliner not passing the ball correctly. They were followed by Travis telling Laila she'd miss less goals if her focus weren't elsewhere and Ananya throwing slightly annoyed glances at Pat.

Coach Rhemann had noticed the shift as well and the team was ordered on a Waterbeach after just fourty minutes of practice. The break room was filled with an unusual silence that made Jean shift uncomfortably in his gear. Instead of talking out their earlier arguments, most of his teammates withdrew to themselves with a water bottle and their school notes.

Practice resumed after fifteen minutes and nothing had changed in that time. Cat and Cody had managed some sort of making up and Derek had apologised to Jesus, but not much later they had all restarted their earlier arguments.

"Alright, one more scrimmage and I think we'll be done for today," Rhemann yelled across the court. Jean was somehow glad about it. Sure, practice was important, but a team didn't play at their best when everyone was fighting. He knew that now, and being able to recognise the faintest similarities between the Trojans and the Ravens on a good day made him involuntarily shrink.

At the beginning all went fairly well. Nabil and Jeremy each scored a goal and Shane blocked one from Ananya's shots. Then Lucas stole the ball from Cody and threw it into Jeremy's general direction. Jean knew from the beginning that Jeremy wouldn't catch it. Emma was already making a run for it and Jeremy had previously been distracted by his own thoughts. Jean's partner reacted a split second too late, costing him the time he would have needed to get to the ball first.

Emma took it into her net and ran for the goal, but even with Jean and Lucas trying their best to stop her, she scored a goal. Rhemann blew a whistle, the game halted and chatter filled the court. Then Lucas halted all conversation when he threw his racquet on the floor and started for Jeremy.

Jean was behind him in a heartbeat and luckily for Lucas he did not try to shove or punch his captain. He opted for tearing his captain a new one instead.

"What is wrong with you today? If that were a real game you could have cost us a victory! Good for you that it's your last semester and you're off to university next year, but maybe don't harm the Trojans reputation on your way out? He," Lucas spat pointing at Jean, "was bad enough! I want a future as a professional Exy player, you know?"

Jeremy opened his mouth to respond, but Lucas had apparently not finished speaking yet.

"And you know what, with that fail it's a good thing your parents want you off the court and in law school!"

The entire team collectively gasped and then the court got so quiet you could hear a pin drop. For a split second, even Lucas looked surprised at his own words, but Jean's gaze was fixed on Jeremy.

And Jean he thought then that he had never had seen his captain so close to a breakdown before. Not when he had told him about the pills, his parent's homophobia and even while talking about Noah Jeremy had looked calmer than right now. Without waiting another moment, Jean was in front of Jeremy and staring Lucas down with anger clouding his eyes.

That worm had no idea about Jeremy's life, or talent or the emotional trouble he was going through because of exactly that: his career.

"You are not better than him, so don't go around telling yourself that you are. Your footwork is sloppy, your passes are slow and calling calling your playstyle anything but horrendous would be an insult to every actual exy player. If you continue playing like that you can give up on your dream career because no professional team will ever want you on their court. And how dare you say words like that to your captain? Have you lost all sense of respect?

"You do not know anything about your captain's life either and you do not have the right to tell him that his dreams will not ever come true! Projecting your own failures on someone else to make yourself feel better should be beneath even yourself. So before you ruin other people's day, go study for that exam that you're about to fail and think about your own terrible playstyle, you tedious-"

Jean stopped. Not because anyone told him to, the court was still completely silent, but because he didn't know the English word for what he was about to say. Chewing Lucas out in French would be an option too, but then he wouldn't be able to understand what Jean said and that would be unfortunate.

Without thinking much, Jean spun around and looked at a still shaken Jeremy.

"Jeremy, connard sans talent en anglais?"

His captain was quiet so long that Jean thought he hadn't understood the question, but then Jeremy slightly shook his head. "I will not tell you the translation to that."

"Jeremy," Jean asked once more in a much softer tone," que signifie 'connard sans talent' en anglais?"

When Jeremy just pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head, Jean tried asking one final time.

"Dites-le-moi maintenant, afin que je puisse lui faire la leçon en votre nom. S'il vous plaît."

With a deep sigh, Jeremy finally opened his mouth and answered: "Connard sans talent means talentless asshole in English." While he said it, his eyes were glued to the floor, as if tge thought alone of contributing to Lucas' lecture made him feel bad.

"Thank you," Jean replied calmly, turned around and said to Lucas in the same furious tone as before: "Go think about your own terrible playstyle, you tedious and talentless asshole!"

Now it was Lucas' turn to stare speechlessly and after a few awkward minutes, the backliner dropped his gear onto the floor and left the court. The rest of the team' eyes were now nervously darting between Jeremy and Jean, and Cat looked genuinely stunned for once.

"Alright," Rhemann cleared his throat,"Let's end practice here today, yes? I think it's best if you all go study for now."

The End?

Jean tearing someone a new one in English but he forgets a word , so Jeremy supplies the word and Jean keeps going

[millers-girl]

a little sliver

a Dr. Jack Abbot one-shot (The Pitt)

pairing: Jack Abbot x f!reader

summary: the fear of being diagnosed with the very disease that took your mother's life keeps you away from the hospital – until a cut on your hand brings you in, and a certain ER doctor keeps you coming back.

warnings/tags: slow burn, hurt/comfort, age gap, serious health condition, medical anxiety

word count: 4.9k

a/n: in my angsty era, blame my hormones

You hadn’t looked up once from your shaking hands, not since you’d sat down. The fluorescent lights above made your skin look worse – washed out, tinged with a sickly pale hue. But it was the tremor your eyes were fixed on – slight, controlled, like your body was already beginning to whisper the secret and would soon shout it from the rooftops.

You barely even glanced at the doctor who escorted you back through the ED. Didn’t glance at the exam room door, didn’t care what the table looked like before perching yourself on the edge. 

Dr. Shen was kind. Gentle voice, competent hands. He didn’t comment on the tremor, not right away. Just asked you the procedural questions. 

“What brings you in today?” You dropped a glass and cut your hand rushing to pick up the pieces.

“Why did you wait so long to come in?” You thought you’d picked all the glass out. It didn’t hurt much.

“Have you noticed any muscle-twitching or stiffness? Not from the cut.

Now that response caught his attention.

Your voice held that flatness people only got when the weight was bone-deep, nearly crushing them.

He thought he caught the tremor when he began examining your hand but it was so slight, barely there, that he figured it might’ve just been a nervous tick.

But it wasn’t. 

You couldn’t control it. Your muscles twitched. Your grip had weakened, just the slightest. These subtle changes, in turn, caused a spike in irritability, aimed at whoever was in your line of sight. 

All in the last three days.

Independently, none of these symptoms were too worrying. But combined, it made him wary.

He ran through the possibilities.

A stress-related tremor – though you hadn’t been burnout or fatigued lately.

Caffeine overuse – you were a tea drinker. 

Multiple sclerosis – you didn’t have any vision changes or numbness. 

Hyperthyroidism – he sent your bloodwork to the lab to check your TSH levels, but it was unlikely as you weren’t presenting other symptoms.

“I don’t think it’s neurological but I’d like to bring in one of our senior attendings to take a look. Dr. Abbot’s got an eye for that kind of thing.” 

You nodded faintly, in the way people do when the words go in one ear and out the other.

Shen left for a moment, and you dropped your head to stare at your hand.

Your fingers wouldn't stop. The motion was subtle but consistent. It frustrated you to no end, especially at how familiar it all looked. How similar.

You pressed your thumb into your palm, hard enough to leave a crescent-shaped dent in your skin.

Another minute passed. Then, the door opened. You didn’t look up right away, just registered Dr. Shen’s rushed footsteps, followed by the sound of steady, deliberate ones.

Dr. Abbot introduced himself in a clipped voice, his tone lower and controlled. He sounded older, wasted no time – took one look at you and already knew it was more than just a hand injury. 

When you looked up at him, you saw that he was tall and broad-shouldered. Black scrubs, with a long sleeve rolled up underneath. Close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. 

Expression completely unreadable. 

He listened to you as you told him about your injury and symptoms. Didn’t interrupt, just watched you with unnerving precision. You knew he already suspected it was more than it seemed.

“Can I see?” he finally asked. 

You held out your hand and he took it without hesitation, fingers cool and sure. His touch was light but efficient. He palpated gently along the edge of your wrist, then traced the line of the cut. 

His eyes flicked back to your face. He noticed the fingernails you’d bitten, the raw skin at your cuticles. Your deepset, weary eyes, indicating sleeplessness.

He looked longer than he needed to, never saying anything, but you felt the weight of his gaze.

Dr. Shen, standing off to the side now, began listing what he’d already ruled out and what he wanted to test for. 

Dr. Abbot added, “Could be Parkinson’s, FNS, SCA, maybe Wilson’s – ” He paused, glancing over at you before doing a double-take, specifically at the bruise on your upper arm. “How’d you get that?” 

You shrugged, glancing at the bruise. “It’s dumb,” you muttered.

“How?” 

“I lost my balance and stumbled into my bookshelf the other day.” 

The way you said it was quiet, reserved. 

It made Abbot pause. His expression didn’t shift, but you saw something tighten in his posture. His voice changed – got flatter.

“Shen, let’s add a full neuro workup. MRI, metabolic panel. And order genetic testing.” 

You knew what he was circling even before he said it.

Shen, confused, asked, “For—?”

He looked at you again, and you answered for him, voice thin. “Huntington’s.”

Abbot’s eyes met yours, brows quirking slightly. He nodded once. No clipboard in hand, no tablet, but you could tell he was already categorizing, recalling data, mapping outcomes. Like you’d done for the past ten years.

You had this faraway look in your eyes, like you were already accepting your fate to be a brutal one. Like you already had it and now it was just a waiting game. Like you were already so used to bad news. Silently, he frowned to himself. You were so young; you shouldn’t have to be.

“Which parent?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

“Mom.” 

“How old was she when she was diagnosed?” 

“Forty-five.” 

There was a long pause before his next question. “Have you ever been tested?” 

You shook your head. The tremor felt worse when you did.

“Why not?” His voice wasn’t judgmental, but it wasn’t soft either. 

You looked away, shrugging. “I’m here now. Test me.”

The silence that followed was thick. You didn’t fill it. Neither did he.

Your words landed heavier than you meant. You weren’t trying to shock him by acting so blasé. You were just… tired. And, now, the idea of waiting for your body to betray you felt worse than knowing for sure. You were so far gone already – you didn’t have much fight left.

Abbot studied you, like he was trying to match what you’d said with the weight you carried. Something about the way you sat, arms folded protectively, eyes staring into the distance, gave him pause.

Eventually, he turned to Shen and gave him a short nod.

“We’ll order the bloodwork and genetic panel,” Shen said gently, almost apologetically, before exiting the exam room.

Abbot lingered for just a second longer than he needed to. Then he left, footsteps even and measured, like everything about him.

You didn’t watch him go. Just looked down at your hand again.

Still shaking.

Between that first visit and the time it would take for the genetic testing results to come back, you had plenty more reasons to return to the ED. 

And Dr. Jack Abbot was there every time. 

He always pretended it was a coincidence – half-shrugged when the residents teased him, brushed it off when Jess, the night charge nurse, smirked and said, “Your girl’s back.” It didn’t make Jack smile. But he never bothered correcting her either.

One of those days was more memorable than the others – the lab required a further test to conclude with certainty whether you had the mutation for Huntington’s. That test was a lumbar puncture, invasive and high-stakes. 

“I don’t want to do it,” you decided, voice flat, looking between Jack and the neurologist, Dr. Mehta. “I mean, there’s other ways to get what you need, right?”

Dr. Mehta glanced at Jack. He didn’t say a word, just stood with his hands in his pockets, eyes on you, waiting. 

“You don’t have to do it,” Jack said eventually. “But if you do… the results will have a higher accuracy.” He saw you squirm in your seat, and added, “I’ll stay.” 

You looked at him then. He wasn’t trying to talk you down, wasn’t trying to fix it. He was just there.

Quiet. Immovable. Present.

When the needle pressed into your spine, you didn’t flinch. Not really. But your fingers curled into the sheets, searching for something to anchor to. And then – his hand slipped between you and the sheet. Warm, calloused. Grounding.

When the worst of it was over and your body stopped shaking, you met Jack’s eyes and whispered, “Thanks.”

He didn’t answer. Just gave your fingers the barest squeeze.

Your other ED visits, though never fun, were never as bad as the lumbar.

Once, you showed up with a sprained ankle from a minor fall coming down the stairs. You told Jack you were just distracted, looking at your phone, but he noticed how you kept your weight off your left leg, almost as if your balance still wasn’t right. 

You were quieter that night, avoiding his eyes. He didn’t ask. Just brought you a snack from the vending machine to make you feel better, the same one he’d seen tucked in your bag that first night you met.

Another time, you cut yourself shaving. It was high up on your thigh, an unusual spot and uncommon angle. Again, you shrugged it off, but Jack didn’t buy it. He cleaned the wound, stitched you up, and in return, you learned his coffee order and bought him a cup as a thank you.

The third time, it was worse. You’d passed out in a coffee shop after not sleeping for three days. When paramedics brought you in, humiliated and defensive, Jack didn’t have to ask why – he could see the abstract formulae sketched on the edge of a crumpled napkin in your pocket, ink bleeding from sweat.

He tried to get the story out of you, but you clammed up. So he let it go. Put you on IV antihistamines, ordered fluids, made sure the light over your bed was dimmed. Hours later, as he passed by in the middle of his shift, he noticed you’d fallen asleep in the hospital bed, limbs awkwardly curled, blanket half-off. 

He adjusted it, pulling it up over your shoulders, careful not to wake you. 

In the morning, he was surprised to find you on the roof, in his spot, where he sometimes went to clear his head.

You sat on the ledge, a hoodie he’d lent you pulled tight around your shoulders, cup of tea in hand, half-empty. 

You startled when he walked out, shoulders visibly relaxing when you saw his familiar figure.

He sat beside you, thighs nearly touching, and you two just talked for a while. Not about the big storm cloud clearly floating over you, but about things that could distract you: memories of your mom, stories he had from when he served in the military, a patient he couldn’t save last night – guilt he didn’t tell anyone else. 

He didn’t cry, didn’t even look at you. Just spoke until the words ran out.

And you listened. Leaned your head on his shoulder, offered him what was left of your tea. 

Neither of you spoke for a while after that, just silently watching the sunrise.

After that last visit, something shifted. Jack started checking the patient board at the beginning of every shift. Not consciously, not at first – but there was a moment each time, just a flicker of anticipation. More often than not, your name was up there. 

While attending to whatever injury you had that day, you two made small talk over bad coffee and overpriced vending machine snacks. It was awkward and brief, until it wasn’t. Until you started to become obsessed with your symptoms, always having the same grim theory about what was causing them.

“It’s getting worse,” you revealed after the fifth visit, finally having the courage to say it. “I mean, it’s only been a few weeks. How could it be getting worse?” 

Jack’s gaze dropped to your chart, even though he’d already memorized it by this point. “It’s likely psychosomatic,” he said calmly. “You’re probably just stressed about the results. That can trigger tremors. Or – depressive episodes… I mean – have you been feeling hopeless? Uninterested in things you used to care about?” 

You blinked up at him like he’d grown an extra head. 

“Let me think,” you said, sarcasm thick in your throat. “I’m waiting on test results that could very well tell me I’m dying a quick death. Oh, but not before I lose my memory, motor function, and will to live. So yeah, Jack, I’d say I’m a little uninterested in anything else at the moment.”

That was new, too. You’d started calling him by his first name. It began as a joke, when you overheard Shen do it once, then it just stuck. 

And Jack never corrected you either. Besides, he’d seen the worst parts of you – this wasn’t just a brief professional encounter anymore.

Now, he watched you huff, crossing your arms over your chest – angry in that heartbreaking way when the body can’t figure out what else to do but hold itself together. 

In your chart, he quietly marked down an increase in mood lability. “Well, aren’t you just a ball of joy today,” he murmured with a frown, trying to crack the tension.

You instead transformed it into anxious energy. “I read this 2017 paper – the Neuron study out of UCSD, where they tracked prodromal HD markers before symptom onset. And they found cognitive changes—subtle, but measurable—years before motor symptoms even started…” 

You swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at him.

“I mean, what if – what if that’s happening to me? What if I’m already on that path and I don’t even know it? What if I’ve already gone too far to come back?” 

The room went silent.

Jack looked up from your chart, and something in his expression changed. His posture froze, brows faintly lifting.

“You read that paper?” he asked softly. You shrugged, but the motion was stiff. “That paper changed how I evaluate prodromal cases. It’s dense. Most people never get past the abstract. But you… read it. Understood it.” 

The air between you suddenly thickened with everything that wasn’t being said.

He didn’t press, but you explained anyway. Maybe because the look he gave you wasn’t pity, like anyone else would’ve. Wasn’t sympathy. It was parity.

“I was at MIT when my mom got diagnosed,” you said.

Jack’s brows furrowed. “MIT?”

“It’s a school,” you shrugged. “In Boston.” 

He tilted his head. “I know what MIT is, kid.” You didn’t smile at that, nor meet his eyes. He waited, then quietly asked, “What happened?” 

“I was studying bioengineering.” Your voice cracked, and you let out a dry laugh. “The universe has a funny sense of humor… Anyway, when she got sick, I started reading everything. Every case report, every preclinical trial. I used all my resources and funding and time and energy just to try and understand. Conduct my own research… try to find a cure.” 

You drew a shaky breath. 

“I became obsessed with it. It was all I did, all I could think about, for seven years… and she died anyway.” Your eyes glistened, but nothing fell. The restraint felt heavier than tears.

“And – and I’m not sick yet. Right? But the waiting is almost worse than a confirmed diagnosis. Like, there’s this little sliver of hope that maybe I don’t have it. And thinking about that sliver makes me sick. Because the odds aren’t in my favor. I probably do have it, and it’s gonna eat me like it ate her. And I won’t be able to stop it… again.”

You left the exam room in a fog, before he could even blink. Didn’t wait for him to call you back – just walked, blindly. Found yourself in an empty stairwell on the abandoned sixth floor, slumping down in the corner, hands in your hair, breath shallow. Shaking. Finally sobbing.

Meanwhile, Jack was staring at the spot you’d just occupied on the exam table. He shut his eyes for a moment, sighed, and when he opened them again, he went looking for you with a heavy heart.

He found you in record time, after Shen told him he’d seen you heading towards the staircase. 

He didn’t touch you – just sat beside you, quiet, knees pulled up. 

He didn’t speak for a long while.

He watched the waterline of your eyes, how the tears couldn’t stop falling. How quiet you stayed, even as your hand began to tremble again.

His hand finally reached out, thumb brushing away the tears, even as new ones quickly replaced them. He offered a tissue.

“You’re right about the cognitive markers in the Neuron study,” he eventually said gently, “But that cohort had a very specific, very rare mutation profile. One that you likely don’t share.” 

You looked up sharply. He held your gaze. “The odds are in your favor. The Neuron study is just one. There are hundreds more that show how a positive mindset changes physiology. Having that little sliver of hope, it’s enough to change your brain chemistry. Enough to weigh the scales in your favor, diagnosis or not.”

Your hand twitched again.

He steadied it with his own. 

In that touch—warm and comforting palm over yours—he realized that the pair of you were two sides of the same coin. Both wired for control, science, self-sacrifice. 

He looked at you—really looked—and something in his chest shifted. Whatever this was, it wasn’t born from pity or obligation, but understanding. Matching scars.

You let out a shaky laugh, brushing the tear off your cheek with your free hand. “Is your bedside manner always this… emotionally fulfilling?” 

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

With the ends of your lips tugged upwards ever so slightly, you replied. “No, just a ball of joy.” 

Then, something you couldn’t have ever predicted happened – he laughed.

Not a huff or a grunt, like you usually got. An actual, honest-to-god laugh. The sound caught you completely off guard. It was warm, low, a little raspy. Like he didn’t do it much.

He looked different like that. Younger, less haunted. Like the weight he always carried slipped for a second.

And then it hit you – hard, sudden, uninvited. You wanted to see it again. Wanted to make him laugh like that again.

The thought lodged itself somewhere between your ribs and never left. 

And the sound of his laugh – it made that little sliver in your heart widen just the slightest. 

Jack felt that tiny warmth flicker inside him, too – but it brought something darker with it. Fear: that caring too much meant opening a door he maybe wasn't ready to walk through.

Beneath that warmth was the weight of your secret – the truth he’d just discovered, the one you hadn’t shared in a week.

And it terrified him.

So, the next time you saw him, he buried that laughter, that hope, deep under the surface.

You could immediately tell something was off.

You didn’t know what exactly – it wasn’t obvious. He still said hello when he entered the room, still glanced at your chart, still examined your reflexes.

But something was off. 

He didn’t meet your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. Didn’t linger like he used to. Didn’t ask how you were sleeping or if you’d eaten today. Didn’t crack a dry, witty joke when you made some half-hearted comment. 

Just gave you the clinical version of himself – the stripped-down, by-the-book version that everyone else got.

You told yourself that you were imagining it. That it had been a long week, and you were sleep-deprived and anxious and inventing things that weren’t there. 

But even Jess noticed.

“Did you guys fight or something?” she whispered while re-taping your IV. “He’s been weird all day.” 

You shook your head, confused. “No, I mean – we barely talked.” 

What you didn’t know was that Jack had figured it out.

He knew.

Of course he did.

You’d gotten the envelope a week ago. The results – a definitive answer to the question that had threatened to split you down the middle since the moment you first walked through the ED doors. 

And you never told him.

Never brought it up.

No, you came in for something else entirely – what was it, dehydration? Maybe just another phantom symptom you were too scared to ignore. And he scanned your name on the board and felt… different. Like the space between him and your name on the board had increased.

And suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about the envelope. 

You kept it tucked away in your bag, the edges worn and creased from being handled but never opened. Sometimes, when you sat down, you could almost feel it burning through the leather of your purse – a silent promise of everything you weren’t ready to face yet.

And Jack knew it had come. There was a date, a system, a rhythm to those tests – hell, he’d even tracked yours down. It was delivered a week ago. And you hadn’t said a word.

And that did something to him. 

Frustrated him. Scared him. Hurt him in a way he didn’t have the right to be hurt. 

You were practically his patient. He wasn’t entitled to anything. 

But the truth settled under his skin like a splinter he couldn’t dig out: he wanted to know. Not because of your file, or because of pure professional concern. 

But because he cared.

More than he probably should, if he was being honest with himself.

And caring that much was dangerous. Unprofessional. Messy.

He realized it as he stood near the nurse’s station, after he’d just lost another patient. And it widened the hole in his heart.

“You alright?” Jess asked quietly, glancing up from her computer.

He hesitated, then shook his head slightly. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this… being this involved.” 

She gave him a small, knowing nod. “Sometimes, you have to protect yourself. It’s not giving up – it’s just keeping balance.”

He let out a slow breath, the decision settling like a weight he couldn’t shake. Maybe pulling back was the only way he wouldn’t break.

So he made a conscious decision to take a step back. 

Small things first – a little less eye contact, fewer jokes. Keeping his hands busy so they wouldn’t drift to yours. No more check-in texts. No more vending machine snacks.

And you felt it, clear as day.

You didn’t understand it, but the difference was like walking into a house you’d lived in for years and suddenly finding the furniture rearranged. Same walls, same door. But nothing was where it was supposed to be.

You immediately wondered if it was you – if you’d crossed that blurry line between you two. Wondered if your hand had stayed in his too long. If you sat a little too close one time. If you said something that made him realize he didn’t want this anymore.

You even considered bringing up the envelope, but something stopped you – fear, maybe. Or that strange, tight feeling that if you said it aloud—if you broke the silence—you wouldn’t be able to handle his reaction.

At this point in your relationship, he felt like an anchor. And you couldn’t handle watching him drift.

But you couldn’t do anything about it either, especially if he didn’t want to talk.

So, instead, you let the space grow.

And that was something Jack wasn’t expecting. But to prove to himself that he was fine with it—that he wasn’t that deep—he said yes to a date with one of the visiting surgeons at PTMC.

Someone age appropriate. Polished. Settled.

They got dinner at some nice place in Regent Square, somewhere one of the hospital admins had recommended. She ordered the house salad, said all the right things, smiled at all the right moments. 

But the whole time, he kept staring at her martini glass and thinking about how you would’ve ordered a fruity mocktail instead. He stared at her hand, steadily reaching for the glass, and thought about how yours shook when you were scared but pretending to be fine. He heard her speak and thought about how your voice caught when you talked about your mom. 

And he knew, in the pit of his stomach, that he could sit at a thousand nice restaurants with a thousand nice women and none of them would ever be you. 

As his date talked about some surgery or another she’d done today, his eyes drifted around the restaurant. 

He saw you instantly, as if his gaze was magnetically pulled to you. 

You’d chosen the restaurant because its bar was quiet, familiar. Dim and lowkey, the kind of place where you could drink in peace, alone and lost in your thoughts.

You sat at the end of the bar, fingers curled around a hot pink straw, stuck inside a fruity, orange mocktail. You hadn’t drank more than a few sips. Your mind was elsewhere. You were just tired.

Bone-deep, soul-wrecked tired. 

Hair in a messy bun, dark circles under your eyes.

Jack’s hand twitched around the whiskey glass he suddenly didn’t want. His date was speaking, but he didn’t hear it. Didn’t hear any of it.

Because you were across the room, and you looked like hell, and all he wanted to do was walk over and pull you back from the emotional spiral you were in.

The woman across from him tilted her head. “Jack, are you with me?” 

He hummed, forcing his eyes to tear from your figure and meet his date’s once more. “What? Yeah, I – ”

The woman knowingly shook her head, softly saying, “No, you’re not.” 

He blinked. Looked at her, guilty. “No,” he said, honest. “I’m sorry. I’m not.” 

She looked over her shoulder, finding the object of his gaze. 

“She’s why you’re not here?” 

He didn’t lie. “Yeah.” 

She nodded, kind. “Then go.”

He didn’t offer an apology. Just set his glass down, muttered something half-hearted about promising to pay, and left the table.

Crossed the room like it was both the easiest and hardest thing for him to do.

You didn’t turn when he sat down beside you at the otherwise empty bar.

Didn’t greet him.

Didn’t pretend.

Just took another mindless sip of your mocktail and said, flat, “You should go back to her.” 

Jack exhaled. “She doesn’t matter.” 

You paused, the quiet swallowing the space between you.

“She looked nice,” you said slowly, voice low. “Like the kind of person you could have a future with. A good, long life. She doesn’t shake when she drinks… she won’t forget your name in ten years.” 

That stopped him cold. The weight of your words pressed down on him. He swallowed hard, jaw clenched, but said nothing at first.

The silence stretched, thick and fragile, before he finally broke it.

“I don’t want her.”

Your laughter was bitter, sharp. “You don’t want me either.”

That hit him harder than he expected. His jaw flexed like he wanted to deny it immediately, but his hesitation said everything. 

He looked down at your hands, then back up, voice tight.

“That’s not true. I just – I pulled back because I knew… I knew you got the results. And you didn’t tell me, and I didn’t know how to ask. I didn’t want to be the person who needed to know something you could barely bring yourself to even do the testing for.” 

You stared at your drink, silence folding over you like a shroud.

“And I thought maybe,” he added, quieter now, “if I put some space between us, it’d be easier. For you. For me. Like if I pretended I didn’t care as much as I do, maybe I’d stop.”

You looked up, eyes glossy, rimmed with red. “Did it work?” 

He shook his head slowly. “No… it made everything worse.” 

You turned fully toward him, vulnerability softening your features. “So what now?” 

Jack leaned in, hand finding yours as the overhead light caught the streaks of grey in his hair. He was closer now, speaking low, like the words were meant only for you.

Because they were.

“Now I stop pretending. I’m here for you. I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.” 

You didn’t blink. “What if the results are positive for the mutation? What if I have it?” 

His eyes didn’t waver. 

“What if I stop remembering you?” your voice cracked. “What if I stop remembering me?” 

Jack didn’t hesitate. 

“Then I’ll remind you.”

Your chest caved in at the words. You shook your head, blinking fast, mouth pressed tight. A single breath quivered out of you. 

Slowly, almost numbly, you reached into your purse, fingers trembling as they pulled out the wrinkled envelope. It looked so small now. Just paper and glue and ink.

But in your hands, it felt impossibly heavy.

You held it between you, hands shaking harder now with all the unspoken fears and hopes.

“Will you…” you whispered, words catching before you could finish the sentence. 

But Jack understood.

His eyes softened as he reached out, hand closing gently over yours, steadying it. The reassurance in his touch grounded you, made you believe wholeheartedly in his promise of sharing the burden and providing unyielding support. 

He lifted the envelope carefully, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. The world around you faded away, leaving only this quiet, fragile moment between the two of you.

Then, with deliberate care, Jack took a deep breath and broke the seal.

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. a farewell letter to you . twisted wonderland

in which they talk about their future aspirations before you joke about crowley finding a way home for you. how would they react?

featuring : housewardens

cw: gn!reader, angst, can be read as platonic/romantic, might be ooc for vil(i rlly struggle writing for him omg), bad grammars, reader is yuu

a/n : based on this ask!! thank u for requesting this!! i really enjoy writing angst and was in the mood to do so, so this really makes my brain immediately work in one sitting lolol (～￣▽￣)～

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

when the topic of graduation is brought up, riddle is always the first one to answer. he already made plans since he was a child—courtesy of his mother. his mother told him that he should be a strong medical mage, just like her.

yet, after spending two years in nrc acting as heartslabyul's housewarden, he's developed an interest in law.

"i think that there are many things that i don't know of to be so sure that i want to become a medical mage. i'd like to explore other options, too, like being an attorney. but i'll have to speak to my mother about it first ..." he sighs, before finally looking at you.

"what about you, name? surely you also have something you want to do in the future. would you like to pursue higher education? or just work right after you graduate? i recommend you go into higher education, though."

you laugh at his question, as if your answer is so obvious that even the dumbest student wouldn't ask. "what about me? well, i'll probably leave before i get to graduate. crowley's probably tired of me being here, haha!"

oh, he completely forgot about that. he forgot that you are not from this world, and that one day you'll be leaving him and whatever problems you have in this school.

... scratch that, riddle never forgets. he remembers—he just refuses to acknowledge it, and has been doing so for the past six months. time flies by so fast when you're spending it with your loved ones, it seems.

he would love to ask you to stay, or even pray to whoever so that crowley will take longer finding a way for you to go back home. but of course he can't do that, he's not that desperate anyways.

"... right. i apologize for asking such an obvious question."

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

"i'll go take up that internship to the sunset savannah." he smirks, showing his paper to you. "what's with that look? obviously i'm gonna take it, or else they're not gonna let me graduate at all after this. besides, not like they're gonna give a low grade to the prince, right?"

but of course he has a reason to choose something that he doesn't normally do. damn royals, you thought to yourself. he laughs when he sees your disgusted look, waving the paper in your face mockingly.

"heh, jealous you can't do that? well, that's alright, this prince can give you a few internship recommendations so even a herbivore like you can pass easily." he stops waving the paper, finally sitting down on the chair across yours.

it's your turn to laugh after he said that. "huh? what's so funny?" he scowls, looking at you like a lion ready to feast. "you know i'll leave this place before i even get to graduate, right? there's no need for you to give me recommendations, haha!"

he knows. there's no need to remind him of something that'll eventually happen, because he doesn't need to hear it from your own mouth.

he'd rather deal with the loneliness when it comes—not now, not while you're still here. he just wants to enjoy the times he gets to spend with you before you literally disappear completely.

"... shut the hell up. i'll still tell you about this, you might need it in your world or somethin'."

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

azul, just like riddle, has already made plans for the future. he wants to show everyone back at home that even an 'ink-spewing crybaby' like him can become something in the world. not just to them, but to himself, too.

so naturally, whenever the topic of graduation is brought up, azul likes to boast a little (just a little) about his future aspirations. "well, seeing that the mostro lounge is already so successful even before i bring it to the outside world, i would probably go into business or something connected to finance in the future."

he would then look at you, asking about what you'll do in the future. "prefect, i am sure that someone as wonderful as you would already have something in mind, right? what would you like to do in the future? become a teacher? or maybe, you'd like to assist me in business?"

you laugh at his attempt to rope you into another one of his schemes. "pfft—nope, i won't be scammed anymore! besides, it's not like i'll graduate here. crowley will probably find a way home faster than i could pass any classes." you reply jokingly.

right, you're not from this world. and he remembers too, of course. no, he doesn't feel sad about it or anything. he has tons of connection on sage's island, he doesn't really feel lonely if one of them disappears.

but you're not simply 'one of them'. you were a good friend, and now a part of his loved ones. he can't just deny that fact so blatantly. yet, for some reason, he can't bring himself to say that to you.

"ah, but of course! how could i be so forgetful?"

KALIM AL-ASIM

kalim is one of the many people who feels indecisive about his future. sure, he has a wealthy family and he would probably inherit his father's wealth or leadership capabilities. it's just that, kalim doesn't know what he wants to be.

he wants to do something that he can do by himself without much help from others. "ah, i don't know ... i'm so confused about all of this! maybe i'll become a doctor? urgh, but that doesn't sound right for me ..."

he'd ask others around him what they want to be in the future, including you. "nameeee! oh, thank goodness ... i finally found you!" you almost had a heart attack when he approaches you, looking all sweaty and out of breath.

"sorry ... for scaring you. uh, i just wanna ask, what do you want to be in the future? you know, after you graduate!" well, that was a rather direct question. you snort, making him look at you like a deer caught in the headlights. "why would you ask me? you know i won't graduate from here, right? i'll probably go home before i graduate, haha!"

oh. right. he immediately feels stupid for forgetting that you're not from this world. he would stand up straight, and look at you in the eyes, before tears started to fall from his eyes. "woah, k-kalim, what's wrong?!"

"hiks, sorry ... i shouldn't have asked that question, now it's made me all sad ..." he wipes the tears from his face using his hands. "i completely forgot that you're not from here ... but i wish i can change it somehow. i'm sorry ..."

kalim can't bring himself to accept the fact that you'll leave someday.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

vil is someone who already has his future planned. he knows what he'll be, and he doesn't spend his free time boasting about it with others. he doesn’t need to say it—everyone already knows he’ll enter the entertainment industry.

but when he looks at you, he can't figure out what you'll become after you graduate. which brings the two of you to this conversation. "yes, i'll join the entertainment industry. i already have some job offers, too. so it was not that hard for me to choose which internship i'll go to."

you nod, although you already expected his answer, you still find it cool and admirable that he can do something so grand at the age of eighteen. your train of thoughts were cut off when vil asks, "what about you? what will you become after you graduate?"

you laugh, and he raises an eyebrow. "well, it's not like i'll graduate from here anyways, right? crowley's gonna find a way for me to go home before i even get to reach the second year. probably." he scoffs quietly before continuing.

"well, that's obvious enough. but are you not gonna continue your education back in your world?" now that's a new one. you never really thought about what you'll do after you come back to your world.

you don't even know if your family thinks you're alive. "i don't know, i'll probably continue studying and pursue a higher education ... or maybe go to work immediately?"

"hmph, you're still a first year. you have many things coming in the future, so just focus on your studies." he replies sternly. he quickly masks the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but the faint twitch of his mouth betrays a wish for more time together before he graduates.

IDIA SHROUD

idia is a genius. he already received a job offer from olympus, the hardest company to get a job offer from, days before the internship assembly for the third years even started.

he's the type to not make small chats about people's future. heck, he doesn't even chat that much with people outside of you and ortho. but when you came barging into his room asking about his internship, he can't help but share a little.

"uh, w-well, i already got a job offer from olympus ... also, could you please NOT barge into my room so suddenly? you're gonna make me reboot myself out of crippling shock someday." he glares at you, making you laugh.

"hehe, sorry about that. but i heard that it's pretty hard to get a job offer from olympus, so that's pretty cool!" you grin, noticing the ends of his hair turns into a faint shade of pink. "umm, well, this is for research purposes but, w-what'll you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, not like i'm gonna graduate here anyways, hehe. so i don't know." he pauses after you said that. that's it, huh? he’s going to lose yet another friend, after working so hard just to get close to you, huh?

why's it always gotta end that way whenever he tries to make contact with anyone? ortho was enough, he doesn't need to lose you too. fate is such a cruel thing. he silently wishes his plans in the island of woe had worked. er, not really.

he laughs awkwardly at your reply. "oh. right. sorry 'bout that."

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he overblots immediately

jk sorry

malleus is not familiar with how the human world operates, being a nocturnal fae himself. so he was pretty confused by the fact that he was supposed to learn something from an internship in just three months. that's like three days for him.

so, he went to your dorm, hoping to learn something valuable from a human like you. "child of man, i was tasked to fill out this form for my internship, but i do not understand how we're supposed to learn anything in just three months. could you please enlighten me?"

you then sat him down on your couch, telling him that time flows differently for fae and humans. three months might seem short, but for humans, it’s enough to learn much. "you are right, i apologize for being so ignorant about our differences. hmm, i am curious though. what would you do after you graduate?"

"me? well, i'll probably leave before i graduate. not like i'm gonna stay here forever, right? hehe." you laugh, making him go silent. he almost completely forgets that you come from another place, and that someday you would leave him behind in this world.

he clenches his fist in quiet devastation. then, a thunder strike was heard from outside your window, signaling an upcoming storm. "woah, there's gonna be a storm happening. is it okay for you to stay here? uh, but i guess you can just teleport back, right?"

your voice is muffled due to the rain, mixing together with the background noises. malleus is angry, but is mostly sad that he'll be alone yet again. he's already feeling sad enough by the fact that lilia will leave this school soon, but now you'll also leave?

"...leus? malleus?" he snaps out of his thoughts when you wave your hand in front of his face. "are you okay?" you ask him, and he only chuckles at your question. "... yes, i'm alright. i apologize for scaring you, i shall leave now." he immediately teleported out of your dorm after that.

you tilt your head curiously, questions like, "why was he acting like that?" filled your head. unbeknownst to you, blot has already begun to seep into his magic pen.

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use (with or without permission), do not recommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xv

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons and/or events

series: part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv

bonus: one, two, three

July 7-8, 2025

[Excerpt: ATP and WTA Stars Take On "Nearest The Pin Golf" Challenge]

Y/N L/N steps up to the small green and then turns to the camera. "I just want to formally apologise to Lily in advance for messing this up."

The first few balls disappear into the water, but at least she's launching them in the right direction. Some of the other tennis players ironically struggle with even hitting the ball, or keep sending it far away from where it needs to land.

"Ugh, please tell me Casper didn't get this in one go," Y/N references one of the few tennis players that is pretty decent in golf. "I feel like it's almost impossible?"

Then she's asking if she can call a helpline. "It can't be a professional golfer, but it can be someone who thinks they are a professional golfer?" She grins slyly, then proceeds to call Carlos Sainz Jr.

"You know who is going to be so mad? Lando, for calling me instead of him," he can be heard saying in the background, before Y/N shows him the challenge. "I'll make it up to him, don't worry."

With another try, and some additional tips from Carlos, she manages to get the ball to bounce onto the lonely island with the pin on it. "I guess that's the best I'll do. Did I win? What did I win? Eternal glory? I'll take it!"

July 9-11, 2025

[Excerpt: Post-Semi Final Press Conference]

"ESPN here. Of course it's never fun to lose, but is there a part of you that feels relieved perhaps, knowing you can now fully focus on your individual tournaments?"

Jack shifts forward. "I mean there was only one other match to go. I'd have been more than happy to make that sacrifice and see if I could win two titles, instead of just the one."

Y/N nods along. "If we hadn't wanted to take this all the way, we wouldn't have committed to the tournament altogether."

"Hi, I'm with SkySports. Jack, you'll be facing Carlos Alcaraz next in your individual semi-final. Considering Y/N's history with Alcaraz, have you asked her for any tips on how to best handle him?"

There's some huffing in the room, and Jack seems to be slightly lost for words. "I - uh, no. I have not asked her for advice."

"And who will you be rooting for, Y/N?" The interviewer continues, making Y/N all but roll her eyes. "I think you know the answer to that, seems pretty obvious to me. But I'm mostly rooting for us to get better questions."

Another interviewer waves their hand. "Hi, I'm with Tennis News. Y/N, you could be just one step closer to your Season Slam if you manage to win this week. How do you switch between this loss and the next potential victory?"

Y/N smiles at that. "Well, I credit my team for it and my family and friends, first of all. But also, if you really want to be a champion - you have to learn how to take the losses. I think in this sport, but also probably in others, that to be a true professional athlete, it means you need to become good at losing. You can't be precious about them, or too superstitious or anything. Because you'll lose so much more than you'll win across your entire career. So if I couldn't deal with losing, I wouldn't be able to fight for the wins. Or at least, that's what I try to tell myself. I'm not always successful at it, but so far I haven't smashed a racket here," she jokes. "Thanks for the lovely question. More of that please."

A/N: pleased to share i have now caught up with the race weekend and have seen the video of lando walking into a wall, and it will 100% make an appearance in this fic at one point 🙃 next chapter features Lando at the Wimbledon final (obvi) and the aftermath or perhaps afterglow?? who knows?? :) :)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @its-elias-world @sarah-thatstings-ann @jessicanotta @fairyjinn @destinyg237 @verogonewild @annimausi @taetae-armyyyyy

[lyricwritesprose]

"Miss Sevrene! Miss Sevrene you gotta help save my chicken!"

There's something about the place, is all. There's something about the people. There's something about the way the people look at me.

"Sorry, Miss Sevrene, I know you have things to do, but Estasia's chicken really has—I don't know, there's been some sort of—"

"It's turned into a werewolf!"

"It has not, it just—it's a lot more hairy? And bigger, and fangs. Can you take a look at it?"

Because I remember the way the the soldiers went quiet when I came near them, the way the trainees talked about me—just one look and you'll never stop screaming, or, I heard that she dissolved a squadron into jelly and rags—I remember how even General Latos spoke to me with respect, how I liked that at first, how I slowly started to realize that respect based on whether you can blow someone's head off with a glare—isn't respect. It's something else. Something I don't want at all.

I thought it was just that the villagers didn't know what I could do.

And then the Winteroak came out of the forest, a corrupted tree with twigs and roots and vines that could grow into a body in seconds and leaf out of mouths and eyes faster than you could choke, a monster that didn't kill but took people (took my people) as seeds to make more monsters, twisting everything they saw and were and wanted, and I took it down in an explosion of superheated sap and ripped its remnants out of the villagers and I know—I felt what they felt—I know that some of them got a glimpse of me. Of what I can do. Of how quickly I could end them, how thoroughly I could torture them, how completely I could rewrite them.

I walked off and went to my thatch-roofed hut and wondered what, if anything, I should bother to pack. Whether I wanted to be out of there by sunrise.

Half a bell later there were four people bothering me into going to the tavern so I wouldn't be alone with memories of the war. Estasia's mother Tiala brought a casserole.

There is a whole three-act drama going on with Tiala's husband being unkind to her and being encouraged to leave and now I think she's set her sights on me, and I am going to have to deal with it in some way eventually, but I don't even know how, because—there is something so unbelievably refreshing about someone who looks at you and is clearly thinking, "I like the looks of her and she'd keep me and my daughter safe."

I don't know how to deal with being a safe person.

I just know I'm starving for it.

"All right," I say, picking up my notebook, "I have got to see a werewolf chicken. Show me?"

Estasia grabs my hand to lead me there, and Tiala smiles like that's where I'm supposed to be.

After the long war, you return home, as a famed battlemage, hoping for peace and time to heal your bruised soul. But quiet life escapes you: children beg for stories, villagers need magic, and monsters keep intruding. Yet somehow, this chaotic little town is exactly what heals you.

[sydwritess]

Do You Hate Me?

Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Summary: You and Max are at an after party for the race he had just won, but he seems to be distancing himself from you. But that doesn't stop you from asking him what's up.

First Person POV

Me and Max had been friends for some time now. We first met when I started Journaling for F1, and we just clicked some how. We started hanging out together, doing what friends do. Max had just won the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix. Everything was going great. People were happy for him, his team was happy, his friends were happy, it may have been a tough weekend for others but for him it seemed to just blow by in the breeze.

Right now we were at a big, fancy restaurant, celebrating Max win, everybody was there, including his friends from other teams. There was music playing from the DJ, drinks being passed around by the bar, food being served, the works. Usually I would have avoided these things, but Max insisted I go. Which was odd seeing how he hasn't even talked to me tonight. The only full sentence he's said to me within the week was "Can you go to my after party." Of course I accepted. But now I'm regretting it.

I was sat at the corner of the bar by myself, swirling the straw that was in my drink out of boredom.

"Hi y/n." A voice said, I look over to see Charles standing there.

"Hey." I smiled.

"What are you doing over here? Shouldn't you be with Max?" He asked.

"Uh, no he's busy." I said pointing to where he was standing. He looked over.

"Oh yeah. Got to love the non stop questions right." He said sarcastically.

"I know right." I laughed.

"So how has work been for you?" He asked.

"Pretty good. Easy at least." I said.

"Is it just journaling that you do?"

"Yeah."

"What does it in tale?" He asked.

"Basically, for every race, I go around to different drivers, writing down answers to my questions, publishing them to the media, writing articles, publishing them online. Stuff like that." I paused. "So like one day I could go up to Kimi and ask him questions, then Lewis, then Max, or whoever." I said.

"Sounds easier then my job." He laughed out.

"Honestly, I think I'd love to have your job, sometimes it get's annoying, typing and writing all of the time." I smiled.

"You'd love to drive at 250 kilos, having people almost crash into every weekend?" He joked.

"I think so. I'd love to drive that fast one day. Something about the adrenaline rush." I said.

"Yeah, it is great some days." He said, holding up his glass before drinking out of it.

"Yeah, not the after part though. I couldn't imagine being all sweaty and gross." I said laughing.

"Yeah, that. That is something else." He laughed out.

"Leclerc! Picture time!" Someone yelled from the distance.

"Duty calls. Hey maybe next race you can come and interview me." He smiled.

"I definitely will." I said, he walked away. I look away from where he was walking to see Max looking straight at me, looking like he's about to strangle the person who was talking at him. I then saw him hold up a finger to the person, signaling that he needed a minute away, and started walking to me.

"Hey." He said shortly.

"Hey, how's the party?" I asked.

"It's alright, that guy back there wouldn't stop talking." He said, letting out a breathy laugh.

"I could tell."

"Max!" I heard in the distance.

"I think someone's calling you." I said. He just rolled his eyes.

"Be right back." He said, walking over to the voice that called him.

"Wow, getting more attention then Max is tonight." A voice behind me said. I turn around to see George standing there.

"Hey George." I smiled.

"How's the fellow co-worker doing tonight?" He asked, sitting down at a bar stool next to me.

"Good. Better then being home writing." I said, smiling.

"I feel you there. At least week have a break this week." He said.

"Yeah, definitely. It's got to be more of a break for you though." I said.

"Yeah, I'm even greatful for summer break." He said.

"I bet. It's got to be tiring, going place after place." I said.

"Very."

"I don't know how you guys do it. I know when I first started I was so jet lagged I didn't sleep for weeks." I said.

"Yeah, it definitely is a struggle some days." He laughed. "So, what did you think about the race today?" He asked.

"It was good. Intense, but good." I said.

"Yeah, but hey, at least you get free admission right?" He joked.

"Right, that is pretty nice." I said. Just then Max walked back over to me, standing right beside me.

"Russel." He said sharply.

"Max." George said, looking at me, then Max. "I'll be going. Hey, maybe in Monaco you can come interview me next." George said, earning a sharp look from Max as he walked away.

"What does that mean?" He asked. I just shrugged. We both sat there in silence for what seems like forever.

"What's been up with you?" I ask.

"Nothing. Why?"

"You've been distant." I stated.

"Just. Busy." He said. Clearly not good with confrontation.

"Mhm." I said, looking back at my drink, then up again. I saw Charles waving me over to where he was standing.

"Brb." I said, getting up from the chair. Max looked at me but didn't say anything as I walked away.

"Hey what's up?" I said cheerfully.

"Picture time. Ready?" he said, holding up his phone. Me and him took a bunch of selfies.

"Oh, more pictures." Lewis said, popping up behind us.

"Lewis the photobomb." Charles laughed out. The three of us took more pics.

"Hey Lewis." I said. "How's your dad doing?" I turned around to face him.

"Good surprisingly." He said smiling.

"Surprisingly."

"Oh my, let me tell you." He said, putting a hand on his hip, like a girl. "When he first saw you at the race in Japan, his jaw dropped. He hadn't seen you since you were a kid." He said laughing.

"Really?"

"Really."

"He should have said hi." I said.

"He wanted to but he thought it was going to be awkward after many years. I said 'dad, your how old, it's not awkward.' but he insisted on not saying hi." He sighed at the ned.

"Well bring him to Monaco next weekend. Drag him to say hi." I said.

"I'm going to. I'll see you around." He said, walking away.

"How do you know each other?" Charles asked.

"We grew up together." I said.

"Wait, so you are secretly like 40 some years old?" He questioned.

"No, no." I laughed. "I don't know, our families new each other. So we saw each other often and everything. He's like a brother." I said, he nodded. Then looked behind me.

"What?" He nodded his head behind me. I turn to see Max starring at us from the bar, then quickly looking away.

"Looks like he's lonely." He joked.

"Yeah. I'll go. See you." i said, waving at him before walking away. I went and sat at the bar next to Max, who had an unusual expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Seriously what's wrong. One minute your starring me down. The next your quiet." I said. He sighed, putting his hands on the bar.

"I just-" He sighed. "Can you come with me?" He asked. I nodded, we walked out of the building together. on this little balcony area, enough space for the two of us. He leaned on the railing, arms, crossed, looking over the city view.

"What's up. You've been like distancing yourself." I said, pausing my words. "Are you mad at me?" I said. He looked over at me.

"I could never be mad at you." He said quietly.

"Then what? Did I do something?" I said.

"No. It's not that... It's me." He said.

"Are you hurt?" I said, he just sighed.

"Listen. Honestly. I like you. A lot. I thought that distancing myself would make things better. But it made me realize how much I can't stand to be away from you." He said slowly. Looking me in the eyes for a sign of disagreement.

"That's why you've been distant." I said, my voice really quiet. He nodded.

"I thought, maybe you didn't like me back."

"That's why you stared me down every time I talked to someone." I said, laughing lightly.

"Yeah. I guess." He said, his face breaking into a smile. I took his hand gently, holding it.

"I like you to." I paused. Looking into his eyes. "You didn't have to hide from me." I said quietly.

"Didn't want you to think less of me." He said, looking at the ground.

"Listen. I won't think less of you." I said pulling him into a hug. He hugged back. Tighter then ever before.

"Besides, if thee Max Verstappen thinks he has to hide from me, clearly somethings up." I said laughing. He laughed to.

"So will you be my girlfriend?" He asks. Pulling away from the hug, looking me deep in the eyes.

"Of course I will." I said smiling. We hugged again. Then went inside, holding hands, ready to tell the world.

Hey loves! First F1 piece! Hope you like it! Many more pieces to come! Comment if you want to be added to the F1 tag list!

[oscopastry101]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗TROPHY

lando norris x actor!male reader

synopsis: little lando norris is in love and has fully soft launched. too bad the internet doesn't believe he's in a relationship

smau, fluff, honestly no clue what else!

warnings: pinterest guys as fc.. was going to do more andrew garfield but forgot as soon as i started, lando kinda being shit on tbh

REQUESTED!!! request is here

author's note: uhmmm yay, idk if i did the request totally right but i have major headache! soz guys, and i would've done football player reader if i knew shit about it but i dont so!

1hr lando posted a story ! 10m oscarpiastri posted a story !

[caption: hehe yum] [caption: lando was the one who invited me btw]

user1 replied: now hold on! thats yn ln.

carlossainz55 replied: i'm surprised people believe this one ↳ lando replied: me too, i think ive posted enough they finally believe it! ↳ carlossainz55 replied: i doubt it, amigo

user2 replied: that hoodie has been in landos vlogs before?

charles_leclerc replied: HES ACTUALLY WITH YOU?

user3 replied: everytime u post one of these i just assume u pretending to have a man 😭

user4 commented: WHY IS IT ALWAYS A HOODIE?? WE NEED FACE PROOF LANDO

user5 replied: he invited you and hes asleep first?? 😭

georgerussell63 replied: holy, is he actually dating him

user6 replied: IS THAT NOT YN LN??? LANDO WAS TELLING THE TRUTH?????

user7 commented: this guy could always be oscars cousin

user8 commented: lando could have a whole husband and u guys still wouldn't believe him 😭

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 492,145 others lando.jpg long night before he goes ;(

user9: oh we're making men up again and using pinterest pictures huh

user10: u got separation anxiety from an imaginary bf??

user11: he's real guys that arm IS yn lns??? LIKE SPIDERMAN?

oscarpaistri: this is my roman empire 😂 ❤︎ by author

comments are limited

3m lando posted a story!

[caption: he bought ice cream :(]

user12 commented: do you guys actually believe oscar would do ts with him??

user13 replied: LANDO WHOOOOOOOOO

oscarpiastri replied: mcdonalds ice cream is goated, good choice ↳ lando replied: thank you mate, i agree, so does yn

carlossainz55 replied: why is he driving? ↳ lando replied: he likes driving, always makes me be passenger

georgerussell63 replied: wow so he actually is ln 😲 ↳ georgerussell63 replied: happy for you mate

user14 commented: i still don't believe it

user3: STOP PLAYING W US.

user8: IS THAT THE BF???

justaninchident: ik they were giggling under there

smoothoperator: this is a good angle hahah

user15: TELL ME THAT IS NOT YN LN. ↳ user11: I BEEN SAYING?? ↳ user16: and so has lando, maybe we have to stop thinking everything lando says is fake...

8m oscarpiastri posted a story ! 3m oscarpiastri posted a story!

[caption: they did it again :(] [caption: uhm you didnt see that]

user17 replied: WAS THAT THE BF

user18 replied: WE SAW THAT OSCAR U HARDLAUNCHED THEM!!

user11 commented: OHHH THATS YN LN WHO TOLD U SO!!! ↳ user20 replied: u did... ↳ user11 replied: EXACTLY! never doubt me, i told u ↳ user21 replied: but lando also told us?? like ages ago, nobody believed him because its YN LN? ↳ user11 replied: details

user1 replied: are we in the wrong..

user22 commented: its yn ln, i went back and matched the ears!! ↳ user1 replied: pardon..? ↳ lando.jpg replied: oh...😥

charles_leclerc replied: i thought we were SOFT launching? ↳ oscarpiastri replied: i panicked okay? ↳ charles_leclerc replied: YOU panicked??

user6: this is so insane

user23: lando norris and a spiderman varient.. is this even real.?

user24: i like how lando said this all the time in the beginning and nobody believed him but now yall do??

smoothoperator:🤦🏻

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။ lover - live from paris taylor swift

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 1m others

ynlnofficial✓ you guys always need so much proof.. 😓

tagged: lando

lando: and even now i bet they won't believe me ❤︎ by author

carlossainz55: tell them your favorite color next lando ↳ lando: it's actually brown lol ↳ oscarpiastri: NO ITS BLUE ↳ ynlnofficial: its both, depending on the day

user4: ARE YOU GUYS.. RESPONDING TOGETHER?

user25: THE HOLD, THE HANDS, IM SICK. VOMITING, DYING.

user9: it's all real.. 😲

maxverstappen1: i've been knowing but cute ig. ❤︎ by author

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။ till forever falls apart ashe, FINNEAS

liked by ynlnofficial, lando and 921,322 others

oscarpiastri sorry guys! at least i can post all this now

tagged: ynlnofficial, lando

ynlnofficial: oh this is cute :( ur forgiven ❤︎ by author ↳ lando: UHM NUH UH ↳ oscarpiastri: papa y papa? ❤︎ by ynlnofficial ↳ lando: uh no but funny

lando: yn is right this is adorbs osco ❤︎ by author ↳ oscarpiastri: i am sorry but about time

georgerussell63: best trio ig. ❤︎ by author, ynlnofficial and lando ↳ oscarpiastri: thank you george 😂

BONUS 1!!

MCLAREN BOYS QNA (FT. surprise guest!!)

Q: who is the better driver? oscar: me. lando: absolutely not! oscar: statistically lando: only barely for this year! lando: besides i win vibes wise, always yn (in background): he got lost on a track once oscar: SEE lando: WHY IS HE HERE?

Q: who takes longer to get ready? oscar: lando lando: me, but only because im in love and want to look nice oscar: oh my god. yn(in background): thats kinda cute oscar: i hate this

Q: are you guys roomates?? oscar: no. lando: basically, he sleeps over all the time yn: he invites himself over, actually oscar: because you guys forget to feed yourselves and im SCARED youll die? lando: thats love oscar: how are you a driver

Q: who's the messiest roommate? oscar: lando lando: me yn: him lando: OSCAR YOU'RE NOT EVEN MY ROOMATE? oscar: and yet we agree

Q: icks? oscar: probably people who swallow their water super loud lando: people who don't like oat milk yn: you've actually called it "nut water". oscar: he did. i have it on video

Q: is yn dating lando or both of you oscar: i WISH it was both lando: hey! oscar: shut up yn: im legally obligated to say lando. emotionally, its complicated??

Q: do you all sleep in the same bed? oscar: not by choice yn: he tucks himself in like a victorian child and sleeps against the wall lando: hes warm though :( oscar: IM LEAVING

BONUS 2!!

groupchat: nut water lovers😽

1:16 am lando: i miss him he's only been gone 3 days this is hell

oscar: what the hell its 1am and he's literally filming, not dead and you facetimed like twice yesterday

lando: HE LOOKED SO HANDSOME im spiraling

oscar: he said "be back on monday" and you said "ok" and now you're laying on the floor and listening to taylor swift

lando: how do you know that...

oscar: i can hear it through the walls, mate

5:34am yn: hello. hi. im alive

lando: DO YOU MISS ME?😭😭😭😭

yn: i miss you like a fork misses soup

5:41am oscar: that's beautiful write that in the vows

lando: what are you doing :(

5:46am yn: filming a stunt they said "do not text while hooked up" so naturally, i texted you guys!

oscar: I SWEAR TO GOD

yn: also one of the stunt guys said i "looked familiar" so i think he knows we're dating or he just watches a lot of f1 either way i panicked and said im oscar

oscar: IM SORRY YOU WHAT 😕😕

lando: NO THATS SO FUNNY you're gunna ruin his PR rep 😭 👎by oscar

yn: anyways im safe and good they're feeding me snacks and letting me nap lots im basically a dog

oscar: you've always been one

lando: pls take a picture, i miss your stupid little face

yn: stupid and little?? do i look like a lego man to you??

lando: a really hot lego man🙂

oscar: okay im gone. this relationship is giving me a headache 👎by lando and yn

lando: hey wait oscar

oscar: what

lando: if yn was a lego man would you build him a house

oscar: im going to bed

yn: he didn't say no! ❤︎ by oscar

lando: HAHA I WIN 👎by oscar

authors note!! that's a wrap! second time around i think i like it more, idk if i really displayed trophy husband well but i still think its cute guys, and dont mind the random oscar addon in the end, in my heart they're roomates.. or worse! thanks for sticking around :)

to everyone who will like, comment, or just read quietly: thank you!!

[no-144444]

please consider making a part 2 or series out of the wont change k. antonelli story. it was wayyyyy to good to not keep it going 😮‍💨

꩜summary: everyone knew that seat was yours. what happens when your kind-of-boyfriend takes it instead?

꩜pairing: andrea kimi antonelli x fem! reader

part one

“Y/n, focus, last lap starting now.”

You were about to become a Monaco winner. You were about to step on the top of the podium for the 5th time in the season, meaning you’d won every damn race. Somehow you’d dodged Alex’s 11 car pile up. Somehow you’d dodged the walls of Monaco. Somehow you’d done it. This was yours. Pure talent, pure racing, pure skill. No one could take this from you. Kimi couldn’t touch this. 

When you raised that trophy, you didn’t look out at the crowd in front of you, you didn’t care that Toto was standing beneath you, you didn’t notice George beside him, or Kimi beside him. You saw Susie, the woman who gave you a chance. You saw Doriane. You saw yourself, the first woman leading the championship, the first woman to win an F2 race, the first woman to win in Monaco, the winner of Monaco. 

This wasn’t a situation where you had to take it on the chin. You could (and would) gloat all you wanted. This was it. This was showing you were the championship favourite. This was proving your worth. This was showing the teams with a free seat next year, that you would and could work for them and their team. 

Knock, knock. 

Jak walked in, his arms open and ready, the proudest smile on his face, it even made you smile a little bit. “Monaco winner baby!” he cheered, picking you up and spinning you, making much more of a fuss than what you had planned. “Holy shit,” he smiled down at you. “You fuckin’ did it.” 

Jak had always been one of your closest friends, all throughout karting and the switch to single seaters. He was loud and annoying, and you were quiet and stand-offish. He’d practically adopted you on the first day of NACAM Formula 4, which you had to do since no European team wanted a girl. He was kind, he always had been. And when he watched you raise that trophy on the podium today, his own P2 trophy in his hands, he was reminded of something he’d always known, you were the next great. And surely that was something to celebrate, right? 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, we’ve to fly to Barcelona tonight,” you chuckled, letting yourself enjoy the hug he was still giving you. He rolled his eyes, taking his hands off you and resting them on his hips, paired with the annoyed look on his face, he looked a lot like his mother. You laughed. 

“You genuinely can’t ever let me enjoy a podium, can you?” he scoffed. “Come on,” he begged. “One drink. That’s it. I’ll let you get back to your ridiculous training regiment tomorrow, just one drink?” 

You knew it was a bad idea, because where Jak was, Ollie found him, and where Ollie was, Kimi was, and when all three of them were together, there was always heavy drinking involved. You thought back to the first night Kimi had ever confessed to you, he was rosy-cheeked and giggly, too drunk to think about what he was saying, and he just blurted it out, in front of everyone. The F1 Academy girls, half the F2 grid, and a bunch of F3 drivers. He got so embarrassed he ran off and nearly cried, until you came over and told him it was alright, that you didn’t mind, that you thought he was cute. He clung to you from that day on. You hadn’t minded. “One drink. Just us.” 

Jak grinned, bright and happy. “Perfect, I wouldn't want it any other way,” he gave you one last hug, and bolted out of your driver’s room, showing you who was waiting behind him.

Kimi. 

He’d seen the whole thing, and that pit in his stomach that had been building for the past 4 minutes exploded when he saw the unimpressed look on your face. He lunged to the door, trying to understand, to rationalise, to explain something. Ask why Jak could hold you like that and not him. Beg you to let him hug you again, or let him celebrate you after his race. 

You rolled your eyes and tried to close the door, but he stuck his foot in and burst through. “Jak?! Seriously?!” he demanded, and all rational thinking went out the window. You ignored him, just going about packing your bag up. “Perché non Ollie? Tanto vale scopare con il mio vero migliore amico.” Why not Ollie? Might as well fuck my actual best friend.

You stared at him, his chest heaving as he pacing your driver’s room. A look he’d never seen before was plastered onto your face, it looked somewhere between disgusted and hurt. He stopped in his tracks, mostly because… well, you were looking at him. For the first time in months. He knew what he said was out of line and disgusting. He knew you wouldn’t take it, and he was already sorry, but the anger and the adrenaline rushing through his veins meant he was fucked. He had no idea what he was doing, or saying, or seeing, but he knew he just wanted you back. 

“Fuck you Kimi,” you scoffed. “Not everything is about you, and not everything is romantic. Jak is my oldest friend-”

“And he’s in love with you-!”

“He cares about me! A lot more than you clearly do-!”

“I called it months ago, I told you he was in love with you, I begged you to ask him to leave you alone-!” his voice overlapped yours as you tried to get your point across, telling him that Jak would only ever be a friend, then you remembered you had absolutely nothing to prove to him. If he wanted to think you were dating Jak, he could think all he wanted. His animated Italian hand gestures held no weight, his words held no weight, he held no weight against you, because he wasn’t your boyfriend anymore. He wasn’t even your friend anymore, and he was barely a colleague. 

He could tell he was losing your attention, but he had called it months ago. He’d brought it up after Imola last year, in your hotel room while you were kissing him. You told him he had nothing to worry about, that Jak was just a friend, that you only liked him. He’d believed you. He still believed you, but it was hard when he wasn’t exactly sure where you two stood.

“Kimi, get the fuck out of my driver’s room, right now,” you tone was firm, dangerous. He stopped again, those big brown eyes pleading, panicked, sad. You didn’t have it in you to care. “Today is my moment. This is my moment, and I won’t let you ruin it with your fucking unwanted jealousy.” 

“So you admit I have no reason to be jealous then? Amore, please,” he reached a hand out for yours, but you snatched it away before he could take it. You leaned in close, so close he thought you might just kiss him. His breath hitched. 

“There’s no reason for you to be jealous, because you’re not my boyfriend, Andrea,” your words were sharp, but their meaning was even sharper. You took a step back. “Now get the fuck out of my room, thanks.” 

Kimi’s heart broke on the other side of the door, and now he had to go race Monaco. Brilliant.

navigation for my blog :)

mercedes & williams masterlist

taglist: (just comment to be added!)

@almostjollypizza @wherethezoes-at @ezzybakeoven @kori20 @emneedshelp @aleatorio1234

[keirareidss]

Mean!reader shoves her fingers in Spencer’s mouth when she wants him to shut up when he’s rambling….. do what with that you will….. I need something of this

I'm obsessed. Literally, I love this. Thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! (decided to make this a blurb because I'm working on bigger fics right now, but I did still really want to write this)

wc: 0.8k

You loved Spencer's rambling. Of course you did, it's part of what made you fall in love with him, His ability to be so passionate about what he's interested in. But sometimes, it was a tad bit much for you. Especially when you were trying to make a move on him.

"But, really, when you think about it, the 'it's all relative' aphorism is not that applicable especially in broader terms-" You kissed a long his neck as he spoke but he wasn't deterred. "The main issue lies in confusing 'relative', which is dependent on context or comparison, with 'subjective', which is based on perception or personal opinion. But while many experiences are subjective that doesn't mean they are relative-" You decided to try a different tactic, moving your kisses to his lips.

He hums against you and you know that means he has another thought brewing that he wants to tell you about. You pull his bottom lip in between your teeth, determined to prolong the kiss to avoid another ramble that will keep you from your seduction. But poor, poor, adorable Spencer doesn't realize that.

"There's actually another popular misconception that philosophy is directly related to-"

"Spencer..." You cut him off in a sultry voice, using two fingers to tilt his chin up. He looks into your eyes, his own going wide. You slide your two fingers up his jaw to his bottom lip, tracing it.

"I-"

"Shh, baby." You cut him off, pushing your fingers past his lips, his tongue finding them immediately out of instinct. "Don't speak." His mouth closed around your digits, sucking dutifully as he looked up at you with half lidded lust-filled eyes. You slowly pulled your spit-soaked fingers out of his mouth, a string a saliva following. You brought your hands down to his waistband, unzipping his pants. He swallowed, saying your name on a whimper.

"Please. Touch me."

"Good job, Spence. You're getting better at that." You'd been trying to teach him to tell you what he wants in a rather... unconventional way. And by that you mean edging him until he finally spits out the words. But it seems he's learned and for that, you'd reward him.

You pulled down his pants and boxers, his cock springing out. You instantly grasped him in your fist, stroking up and down and using his own spit as lube. He moans at the feeling, his hips jerking.

"I- I want- ngh, please..."

"Come on, use your words, genius, you were talking so much before." You teased and he whined.

"I want- I want your mouth." You grinned, leaning forward and slanting your lips over his, purposefully misunderstanding him.

"You want my mouth here?" You asked, barely pulling back from the kiss. He shook his head, breathing heavy.

"N-no."

"Where then?"

"I- I want it... I want your mouth on- on my cock." He stammers out. He blushed instantly at the vulgar terminology, squeezing his eyes shut. You chuckled, moving down his legs until you were able to bend down. You flicked your tongue out, licking at the head of his cock and he jolted.

"If you want me to suck you off, you're going to have to open your eyes, baby." You said and he huffed out a breath, forcing his eyes open to look down at you. He knew he wouldn't last long. he never did when you made him watch you but he hadn't realized that that's want you wanted. You had a bet with yourself to see how fast you could make him cum. Your best time was 56 seconds. But that's a story for another time.

Once his eyes were on you, you wrapped your lips around his length, slowly sinking down on it. He shuddered, letting out a long moan. No matter how many times you sucked him off, you never got used to the sounds he made. They were so needy and desperate, it made you wet just thinking about it.

You bobbed your head up and down, drawing said needy noises from the man above you, circling your ruthless tongue over his tip. You let your teeth graze his shaft as you moved your head down and then up again.

"Ah! Shit, I'm close, I'm gonna-" And then he was cumming down your throat, letting you swallow him up dutifully, spit dribbling down your chin. You sit up, wiping your mouth and grinning at the man twitching and panting before you. You check your watch.

"Damn it." 72 seconds. You'd have to try to beat your record another time. You brushed Spencer's hair back from his forehead, looking into his eyes.

"You're amazing." He murmured, entirely fucked out. You press a loving kiss to his lips.

"Thank you, baby. Now, let's put that mouth of yours to good use."

Taglist: @superbeaglewitch, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @dramioneforevertilltheend. @cynbx, @diminombre

[webslingingslasher]

J! I just got a Spidey plush!! And he’s adorable and so cuddly. I love him.

Idk if you’re taking requests (if not, please disregard lol), but a drabble/blurb (idk the difference) about Trouble w/ a Spidey plush. And Peter getting jealous bc she’s choosing to cuddle with it instead of him

'i found spider-man today.'

peter wasn't out in the suit today so he's not sure what you mean. 'you did?'

'mhm, i took him home with me.'

now peter's imagining a copy-cat walking around in some halloween costume, pretending to be a hero, and allowing girls to take him home. when peter said spider-man could be your hall pass, he didn't expect you to actually find him.

'what?'

'what, what?'

'what do you mean you took him home?'

you smile, 'oh. yes, i took him home. i almost didn't but he was so cute i couldn't say no.'

a fake spider-man is running around and flashing his face. 'you saw his face?' you shake your head, peter thinks that might be worse. 'no, but i know he's cute. wanna see him?' you start digging through your bag before he can say anything, if you show him a picture of someone touching you, he'll scream.

but it's no real threat. it's a miniature, stuffed him.

'aw.'

'i know, right? he's perfect cuddle size too.'

peter waves you off. 'nah, i'm perfect cuddle size. he's too small.'

you hug spider-man to your chest and squeeze tight. 'he fits right between my arms. i can't wait to hug him all night.' peter's eyebrows slightly furrow, 'i thought you were spending the night?'

you nod. 'i am.'

'then how are you going to hug him?'

you sway back and forth, hugging spider-man a little tighter. 'like this.' peter looks at you, looks at his bed, looks at spider-man, then back to you. 'but that's where i sleep.'

'nuh uh. it's more like me laying on you and you trying to escape me the whole night.'

'you make me hot!'

you shoot a wink his way, 'right back atchya, baby.' you trace the black lines of the plush mask spider-man is wearing. 'it's a win for you, petey. you won't get all sweaty tonight.'

peter wears a frown and crosses his arms over his chest. 'what's the point of spending the night if you're not going to cuddle me?' your mouth drops, 'okay, mr. sassy.'

'well, i just don't get why you'd want to sleep here if you don't want me.'

'i do want you! i'm sharing a bed with you, duh.'

'while cuddling...' peter's eyes narrow on his new enemy, 'him.' you try to hold a straight face but you're unable to swallow your laugh. 'there's no way you're jealous of a stuffed spider-man right now.'

peter exaggerates a head nod. he's jealous and he doesn't care if you know. 'i only get trouble cuddles two nights a week, three if i'm lucky. and you want me to give up a whole night for that thing? no way. not happening. i'll allow it in the bed but cuddles? no, that's me and me only.'

you hold spider-man closer to your chest. if he had ears, you'd cover them. 'we went from him to it real fast, parker.' peter gives spider-man a death glare. 'it's taking you from me. i don't like it.'

'well, maybe if you didn't complain everytime i try to cuddle you i wouldn't have to find someone to take your spot.'

'someone? someone? that is not someone, i'm someone!'

you give spider-man another squeeze. 'fine. but he's sleeping next to me and if you give me any lip about getting off you, i'm turning my back and won't turn back around until morning.'

peter smiles wide. 'deal.' 

[howlingday]

Winter: He's a soldier.

Yang: A cowboy.

Raven: A knight.

Cinder: An asshole.

Blake: A terribly complicated man.

Ruby: Probably the easiest person to understand.

Tyrian: A riddle wrapped in a mystery wrapped inside an enigma~!

Nora: A real-real, no play, son of a bitch~!

Robyn: A true huntsman.

Mercury: He's a killer.

Jessica: A pretty good kisser.

Velvet: A man too good for his own good.

Neo: (Sighs, Shrugs)

Flynt: A damn hard target.

Coco: A damn good leader, even if he doesn't think it.

Emerald: The scariest guy I have ever met, and I've met Tyrian!

Cardin: The SECOND best huntsman from Ansel~.

Yatsuhashi: A thoroughly untrustworthy fellow who I'd trust with my life any day of the week.

Neptune: A terrible swimmer you wouldn't want to meet.

Fox: He's kind of an ass.

Sun: He's a damn cheater is what he is!

Russel: Talk about your laugh riots!

Qrow: Someone who knows where he's going, and he knows how to get there.

Marrow: A wet rat. He smells EXACTLY like a wet rat.

Weiss: I don't know if I'll ever get married because every time I meet someone, I can't help but compare them to him. And there's no way they could ever measure up.

Oscar: He never told me what he was like when he was my age. As far as I can tell, he's never told ANYONE. But there's something to him that makes me feel like he's been where I'm at right now; where you're not sure of who you are or what you're doing, but you just know you have to do it. He's gotten used to taking a life just as much as life has been taken away from him. And that's why I think he's the greatest huntsman I've ever met.

Ren: He's a man I know better than any other man alive, but I'll be damned if he doesn't find a new way to surprise me. And seldom is it in a good way.

Ozpin: I could tell you what I know of the man. Things I imagine few others do. But I must admit, I'm far more interested in what YOU have to say. So please, Miss Lavender, if you don't mind...

Ozpin: What do YOU think of Jaune Arc?

--------------------------------------------------

Jaune: They're all wrong, you know. Every single one of them.

Jaune: Well, except for Neptune. I can't swim to save my life.

Lisa: Okay, then why don't you tell me yourself... WHO IS JAUNE ARC?

Jaune: I... can't really say.

Lisa: Can't or won't?

Jaune: Can't.

Lisa: Why not?

Jaune: Because I don't know. The only thing I can say for sure about Jaune Arc is...

Jaune: He's a work in progress.

[lsc72]

Back To Love

In the North it’s always gone be cold shoulders and mean attitudes. That’s where they get it from, being in Chicago for 7 years. But now they back. You can’t be like that here, not in the South. Southern Hospitality speak way more than money ever did. Don’t get it twisted Smoke.

Now when I came to help with this juke everything was clear cut. No highways or byways in case anything happened or changed. I knew Smoke and Stack had that handled.

So when Peter John came up with 50 cent, 30 in dimes and 20 in plantation credits, I ain't know what to do. I wasn't sure how exactly if the twins woulda went for it. It was good for business cuz he'd of kept coming back, but sale wise them credits wasn't shit.

Thankfully Stack took over, but on the other side of the counter Smoke barked harsh as usual, Asking us to talk. When we gathered in the separate room he immediately went off.

"This ain't no house party and we damn sure ain't no charity. We taking cash, U.S. muhfuckin dollars." He roared with the clap of his hand.

"This ain't Chicago Smoke." Annie offered.

"The fuck that mean?" Smoke asked nose flaring. Up north it's icy, cold even, everybody wanting only money and less pleasantries. Down south everybody was kind to one another. Southern hospitality was always known about us. That's how we stay together.

Hell back in Annie's shack he'd said it himself up north was nothing but money and power. For seven years I guess you would get used to it being like that but home, Mississippi, wasn't the same.

"Them niggas worked they ass off for them wooden nickels. This 'sposed to feel like it's for them. Let them come here and enjoy themselves." Stack explained.

Looking at the bigger picture was what'll give them longevity but in Smoke's eyes it only brought them closer to a closing. Thinking about the money.

"They gotta feel wanted if you want this here to work." Annie spoke softly. He knew that just as well as they did.

"When you was selling ass out there in lil rock you let them pay with a damn promissory note?" Smoke countered knowing the scenario was still the same. That shit wouldn't fly!

"Hell nah!" Fuck this nigga thought, Stack started but Annie turned big eyed trying to get him back on topic. "See but I wasn't selling ass in the delta." He smiled easing up again. Again, it’s a different story for the North.

Smoke was irritated. Irritated with how the black community was cheated and costing them money. It wasn't right and it wasn't his problem. His focus was the money.

"I don't know hoodoo and I can't talk slick, but I know business and this is bad for business." His voice striking. He looked from his brother who nodded and shrugged and then to Annie who held a serious stare.

"It's opening night, ‘sides it's only gone be a few of em like this." Stack tried to ease the tension.

Smoke couldn't fight too much it was a joint decision to open up. They was 50/50. So he was gone let it slide tonight. But if it didn't go well the next time wasn't going for that.

A frustrated sigh was released from the tense twin. "I need a cigarette." He growled. Annie exhaled twiddling with her finger glad he wasn't to the point to set it off.

"Coming right up." The slick brother smiled. Finally cracking through that hard exterior and personality.

He'd have some rolled up on the side for his brother to have. Smoke couldn't do it with the tremor in his hands and didn't mind helping providing what'll help take the ease off.

"There you go." He handed over two cigarettes between his fingers. Smoke took both, placed one in his pocket and the other between his lips.

The click of Stack's lighter sounded as the small flame lit between em. Smoke leaned over holding the rolled cigarette to the flame and watched it curl up. The cherry of the tobacco a bright red and orange.

Annie looked between the two boys wondering if all the nonsense was finally finished. Her part was done and those plates wasn't gone sell themselves.

"Alright you two, ima gone back to the fish, if yall ont' need me here." She stated and walked behind Stack as he exited out himself.

She stepped aside to walk between the door and Smoke. He stood big, chest out with smoke flowing from his nostrils.

"Hol on'" his empty hand grabbed my arm and pulled me back to stand in front of him. His head tilted as his eyes squinted at me. He had a possessive hold on my forearm, like he was getting ready to personally scold me next.

"Yeah mon? What you need baby?" I gave him a sweet look. I know he needed a lil more to take the edge off. The chuckle that sat in the back of his throat made a slight appearance when he nodded his head.

His eyes low and dark, almost like stalking his prey. He moved slowly removing the cigarette after his last pull before putting it out against the door and placing it down on a lil table.

His other hand now sat occupied as it held my chin firmly. Analyzing, deciding what he wanted first. Keeping my eyes on him I watched his eyes flicker between my lips and back to my eyes.

I smiled knowing exactly what he wanted. My lips slightly parted waiting for him to say those words. To let me know what he needed right now.

"Give me some of that sweet shit." His voice spoke low. The vibrating tone going straight to my core.

My hands moved first, holding onto his torso, gripping his dress shirt tightly. The heat rose in my throat as I bit my lip holding in the squeal I wanted to release.

When he Finally m lowered his head and lifted my chin to meet him halfway, it was explosive. Giving me everything and then some. He took my bottom lip between his, moving closer in proximity. "Hmm" a soft expression broke free between us.

It was already hot in the juke but I was hotter for another reason. The smack of our lips as we pulled away but it was only for a second. Our lips met again. Tongue taking wager between our teeth as both of ours curled around each other.

The tobacco and vodka mixed freely as our saliva bind together. Spit transferring and sat on both our lips. My mouth opened wider to get more of him, I wanted it deep. It was like a potion as we gripped one another not being able to get enough.

His left hand gripped the back of my head pulling me in deeper and deeper as the other slinked down to hold my ass. I felt like I was melting into him, I wanted so much more.

"Damn Smoke..." I whispered cursing into the air with much fervor as he released me. I needed to catch my breath after that. My lips felt swollen from him sucking them strongly. I felt dizzy and shaky.

There was more than one heartbeat now. And this new one thumped with arousal in my bloomers. I felt the slick feeling dripping out of me and into the seat of em. How could he let me walk back out there after doing that to me.

"Gone handle that business for me." He finally allowed me to leave and go sell the fish to the juke. Getting to the threshold of the door a searing pain on my ass festered. This time the air was withdrawn from me gasping. My head lowered as I hissed from pain and pleasure.

My hands held onto the trim of the door. My feet stood solid in form now. "Pa you gone let me go do what I need for you?" I asked with a slight whine. I couldn't handle anymore teasing right now. The remnants of that sting pounded my entire body. Everything felt so shaky. My body been betraying all upkeep.

"I ain't stopping you Mrs. Moore." He challenged. I looked back over my shoulder to see his jacket removed and one hand sat utop of his bottoms. Almost like a trap he created, testing me.

He knew he had Annie, but still wanted to give her whatever to let it be known she was his forever. He needed her just as bad right now.

The jumping of my chest sprung as I looked at the party on the other side of the door. They all danced, not paying no mind. I wanted him, and i wanted him bad. That fish can wait.

"Come on so daddy can give you this load mama." He said surely. Knowing exactly what he’d caused he sat his hat behind him along with his suit jacket. The chattering of his belt had me gripping the door tighter. Then the whip of him snatching it out the belt loops made me look back again. Then I watched as he unzipped.

I huffed practically drooling as I watched him move. I needed him so bad but I knew there was no mercy when he got pent up frustration like this. My breath couldn't keep up when I turned around to him bringing my arms to my sides.

He didn't give me enough time to close the door before he was pulling the britches down. I rushed towards him after the door slammed and pulled his face to mine.

I hummed with the orchestration of our mouths together. Only time we parted was to breathe, but we found each other quickly again. The twirling of our tongues and the roughness of his beard sending bolts of pleasure into me.

He sucked and held my bottom lip between his lips and walked me back toward the table. My mouth agape as my breath grazed his lips. When my ass hit the table my hands gripped the edge as I pulled my mouth away. Smoke frowned.

The smooth jazz Slim played flowed through the walls. Canceling out the noise from our doing in the back. I felt that third leg against my torso and hummed hungrily. I was always taken back from the size of him. God took time carving him and I was forever thankful.

"Mmm papa, I need it." I whined breathless as he lifted me onto the wooden table. I took my tongue and dragged them up his lips trying to get every flavor he had to offer.

I wrapped myself around him and pulled his briefs down to spring that hot sword free. Taking him into my hand I moaned as he grunted off in my ear.

The hard rod filled my hand, then I rubbed from his hairy base to the tip and circled it slowly. The smooth skin and veins thumped under my palm as he stood ready and waiting.

"Annie, shit" he gasped hissing as I took over the scene. His hands gripped my hips tightly and my tongue lined around his ear. I nibbled from his earlobe down to his neck. I licked from his collarbone to his pulse point as he titled his head exposing the skin more.

"Come on daddy. Give it to me please." I begged into his ear softly. I pulled back to finally look into his eyes and he twitched slightly, my lip pulled between my teeth.

His swift hands moved under my dress and pushed my bloomers to the side. The rough pad of his finger pressed firmly against my clit and I lost all free will. He knew just how to snatch that power back and I let him.

I gasped before releasing staggered breaths as his fingers circled quickly around my clit. "Fuck Smoke!" I leaned back onto my hands to open up my legs more. Allowing him to get all I had to offer.

"Damn that shit wet baby." He spoke and inserted two fingers into my pussy. The stretching sting had me singing to the ceiling, head thrown back. It was so much going on from the pleasure Smoke was giving, to the wet squelching around his fingers, and the feel of his mouth on my neck.

"Daddy you gone make this pussy cream? It's waiting for you!" i needed to feel him inside me now. I was a whimpering mess. The slickness of his hair became scruffy at the nape of his neck. Where I held in my palm.

The fast pull of my hips startled me as I fell back onto my elbows. He pushed my dress up and held my left leg back against my stomach. His dick jumped as he came in contact with her wet center. It clapped against her clit and the noise that sprung from her shook him badly.

Smoke quickly pushed into her. The tight heat was good enough to make him bust right there. Annie jerked, her back arching up as her mouth hung open and moaned loudly. He would never get enough of this.

"Fuck me please!" She cried and pulled him deeper from his shirt in her fist. He craned over her and pulled her other leg over his shoulder as the other was held by his hand.

Finally getting his footing and sense he moved sensually. He exhaled cursing strongly how good it felt. Annie moaned like the air was removed from her lungs then gasped loudly.

The slow stroking drove Annie insane. He was teasing her something awful and this ain't what she needed. She got it slow earlier, now she need it fast and hard.

His head hung low staring as how he moved in her and pulled out slowly. He felt her trembling in his hands. The slow roll of his hips was just perfect. His eyes felt like lasers as he watched.

"Fuck Annie, yo pussy so good. Daddy giving it to you?" He bucked his leg up on a stool beside his feet. He rocked slightly faster. Chuckling as Annie tried to reply but couldn't regain focus.

"Y-yes Papaaa! You makin me feel so good!" Her moans grew an octave feeling him deep inside her. He was stealing her breath away. Barely could breathe but if she were to die like this she wouldn't even be mad. In the woes of passionate love.

He didn't give a fuck what was happening outside that door. Only fuck he was giving was to his woman and he ain't care how long it was gone take. He was gone show her how lucky he was to have her. She deserved it. After how he ain't seen her in 7 years, he hated himself for it being that long. But he needed her to feel just how sorry he was. He'd do everything to make it up to her.

His hands held the back of her thighs possessively and he pulled out. Annie gave protesting whimpers before she felt him bend down and his mouth latched onto her clit. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she laid back on the table. She didn’t have the strength anymore.

"Oh my God Smoke. What you doing to me?" She moaned and trembled. The intensity bloomed into her and she cried out. Her body twitching and jerking with every pass of his tongue. She exhaled and threw her head back biting her lip as a moan sang from her throat. Mouth forming the letter ‘O’.

She hummed deeply as he spit adding more wetness and pushed back into her harder. She would be nomore. She felt out of her mind. When he thrust faster she put one hand to the wall behind her just so her head wouldn't be bumping against it.

Smoke felt it. The flutter of her walls. Fuck he knew she was on the brink and he'd be a fool if he wasn't behind her.

"Look at me Annie." He commanded. Quickly I brought my eyes to see him staring straight into me.

His lip was tight between his teeth as he tried to hold on longer. He wasn't done just yet.

"Tell daddy what you want baby." The low frequency of his tone rumbled from his throat. He switched thrusting from fast to slow then fast again. Annie couldn't catch a grip. Fuck he was ruining her. All that anger she held before was long gone. After this she'd want to be at his becking call. He deserved it

"I want cum all on that dick pa!" Heavy breathing came from her. Her left hand sat on his stomach. It was too much. She didn't want it to end.

"Nah don't run from it. Take that shit mama." He ordered and pulled me by my hips lower. My hips now hanging off the table which gave me no leverage.

"Fuck baby! I need it so bad. Give it to me, please." I sat up and shifted to hold around his shoulder as my other hand held me up from the table. I felt myself teetering on the edge. I needed his big strong body to hold onto.

My thighs gripped his torso tight between them. That teetering special was coming up. It was tingling so good. I knew I would be a mess when it hit.

"You gone let papa give you that seed? You gone have my baby?" He asked and I shook my head vigorously. That was all I wanted with him. After losing the first and then him after I couldn't bare life without him. Without our family. I wanted it so much.

"Yes daddy I-i wanna have yo baby again. Fuck!" I practically rose onto him, clinging tightly. My arms wrapped around his neck and he held my ass and drive my hips up and down.

"Cum on daddy, baby. I'm right behind you." And that I did. My nails clawing into his back through his shirt. I bore down, stomach balled and I heard liquid rushing at his feet. I was squealing into his shoulder.

The piano outside could only cancel out so much. They'd definitely get the idea of our activities had I not covered my mouth.

"Shit you squirting baby, fuck I'm cumming!" He grunted giving long and deep strokes. Each one slow from base to tip as he stuffed me.

Finally he held my legs stagnant as we both tried to catch our breath. My eyesight slowly going back to normal. They were closed shut or rolling in the back of my head this whole time.

"Damn that was good." He huffed. He turned his neck to see my head still resting against his shoulder. So he walked back to the table and sat me down before rubbing my thighs.

"My goodness Smoke, the hell was that?" I leaned back and hissed from him pulling out of me. I surely missed him already and we wasn't even two steps away from each other.

"That was seven years worth of sorry. I ain't mean to stay away all them years. You my everything and I'm not going anywhere ever again. I gotchu. You forgive me?" He'd pull my chin to look at him. Holding eye contact precisely to see if I had any doubt in my eyes.

This was far from doubt. The tears stung as I felt a cry surging up my chest. God I hoped he knew how much I loved him. My man, my husband, Elijah.

"Yes I do Elijah. I love you so much." I hugged him tightly to distract the tears from falling down my face. His lips went to the side of my head in a kiss before he helped me off the table.

"I love you too, let's get back to this party." He'd straightened up and took my hand as we flowed into the crowd of people.

Lordyyyyy! Yall this was sprung off my head after watching the movie for the 6th time. I’m so obsessed. Apologies for any errors. It’s so hard to write for them because I just want it to be perfect. Please let me know how you all like this! 🫶🏽💕

[nocreativityfornames]

I must love being tortured with unrequited love, because why does my brain keep cooking up different ways for Sylus to break nonmc's heart with this trope? Guess I should thanks @comatosebunny09 and her writing of Second Best for this (check it out right now!), because now I'm thinking of this trope with a nonmc who's a dragon, like Sylus.

He finds them through rumours of "the last of the dragon species" being captured and placed to be sold at an upcoming auction, and although he doubts the legitimacy, he goes to check. Sure enough, there they are- broken and bleeding, one wing torn as they tremble in the corner of the cage.

Crazy amounts of money are being put on the line, because dragons were believed to be extinct for centuries now and who wouldn't want to get their hands on the last one? But Sylus is the most fascinated, hopeful, for he'd long ago accepted he was alone grieving the death of his kind. He'd never been more glad to be proven wrong.

Of course, his bid surpasses all others and he gets the "product." But it's not that easy, since he still has to work to get their trust—the trust of a dragon who'd lived in isolation from society their entire existence, and very much acted like an animal still.

Even after showing them his dragon form, it was a struggle for them to allow him close enough to examine their wounds. But Sylus has taken strays before. He thinks of the street cats, used to being mistreated and fending for themselves in a world with no allies. He approaches them with the same gentleness, slowly gaining their trust by just hanging around, silently watching from afar as they eat the food he brought.

It's a slow process, but they go from hiding in the corner of the room to just being weary of him, and then letting their guard down in his presence, eventually allowing him to check on their injuries. And when it becomes clear that he isn't a threat, they start being the one to approach him. "Can I... see your wings again?" And he lets them take in his form a second time, now with more ease. Even lets them touch him when they reach out for his wings and horns.

He essentially teaches them how to be human from then on, and part of him heals with each step, being able to give someone what he never had and had to figure out on his own. Sylus sees them as part of the family he deeply cares for and he treats them as such, unaware that they've been developing feelings all along.

Then she comes around, and he starts putting all his time on her. What Sylus cares about, they do too, but it becomes too much. They rarely ever see him, and the routine that had built over the years is broken by him not being around, shared daily activities that a "complete day" couldn't go without long forgotten.

And they have to hold back from attacking Sylus' human whenever she's around, because just like him, they have urges to feed on the oh so tempting Aether Core. They need to show restraint, but they're not nearly as good as him at doing so, and it's not as though Sylus is around to help them either, with how much time he's investing into better things.

So it's incredibly hard to keep control. Especially when she's so worried about them avoiding her and looking away from her when they talk, nails digging into their palms like they need to escape before something tragic happens. Always so kind and ready to help others—in another life, they think they could fall in love with her, too.

Then it comes the day when they're hungrier than usual. Happens to every dragon, a period of time where they're more insatiable. They do their best to send her away but she keeps on pushing, sweetly wanting to ensure that they're okay. And when she places a gentle hand on their shoulder, they attack.

When the scent of blood rushes through their nose, their stomach churns. They scramble away from where she's bleeding on the floor and cover their mouth, holding back from vomiting as they call the twins. Please, please, please–

To everyone's relief, she ends up okay. Bedridden and still unconscious, but on the way to recovery. But Sylus is furious, and they'd never been a target to his anger before, especially not like this.

So they mostly just stand there quietly as he yells.

"I know but I didn't mean to! I-I'd never hurt her, Sylus. I swear, I couldn't control–"

"Well, if you don't have any self control, then maybe you were always meant to be alone in the first place." His words cut deep, freezing them on the spot.

They didn't know what to say after that, and the relationship that was already broken felt beyond repairing. By the next morning, all of their belongings were gone from the base and they were nowhere to be seen.

[futbolfatale]

Origin Story PT 2

Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader,

Summary: You get invited to a Barca game by an Alpha at your school who wouldn't accept.

WordCount: 0.7K

Comment or send me an ask to be added to the woso A/B/O taglist

Okay, maybe going to the after-party was a stupid idea you stumble your way to your 7 am lecture with a pounding headache and an ache in your cunt. You left Mapi’s apartment at 5 and caught a cab to get to your apartment so you could change and get to class on time. There is no doubt that you reek like them, but you didn't have time to shower and get to class on time. Leaving early had the added benefit of avoiding any awkward conversations since they didn’t know where you went to school, and you hadn’t exchanged numbers with any of them. Surely they wouldn’t want to see you again after last night. You can’t help but wonder what life would be like if you were with them, as unbelievable as that is. How happy you would be if you had always had a special connection to the omegas in your life, and this pack has two, so it's like heaven for you.

Your lectures wrap up about four hours later, and you trail out into the hall, trying to avoid Maddie like the plague. But her lily and patulio scent hits you like a brick wall, making you stop in your tracks. It seems your efforts are for nothing as Maddie rounds the corner, walking directly toward you. So, of course, you, like any normal person, turn and start speed walking away from her. “Are you seriously running away from me right now?” She growled, snatching your wrist. “Oh, sorry, Maddie, I didn’t see you.” You smile falsely at her. “You owe me. I can’t believe you just abandoned me at the game, You could have at least helped me out.” She glances down at her sweats, and your eyes naturally follow. “I don’t believe I owe you anything.” You try to pull away, but her grip stays strong. She pulls your hand to palm her cock through her sweat and you bite back bile.

“Bebita, there you are,” a voice down the hall calls at you, the strong scent of (Insert Here) filling the hall. “Oh, so you're a slut just not for me” Maddie spits. “Get your hands off my omega,” Alexia growls. She grabs Maddie’s wrist, holding it so hard that you fear it might snap. “And who do you think you are?” Maddie tries to pull away, but can’t, and a look of fear crosses her face. Alexia just pushes her away and pulls you behind her and out of the school quickly. “How did you know I was here?” You ask as Alexia helps you into her car. 

“I made a call, Mapi and Ona were so sad when they woke up, so I promised to come find you and let them tell you how much of a bad girl you are.” She leans across you to buckle your seatbelt, and her scent overwhelms you. “Im the bad girl’ you ask, slightly annoyed with her. “You left without saying anything. It won’t be safe for you by yourself anymore.” Alexia warns as she pulls out of the parking lot. It hits you that you are in a car with this woman you barely know; this is the beginning of every kidnapping. “Maybe I should go.” You try to pull on the door, but it’s childproof.

“Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you, but you can’t go alone.” Her eyes never once leave the road as she speaks. “And why can’t I go alone?” You say with some bite, your scent no doubt turning sour. “The paparazzi will be all over you. Pictures from the party are all over. Plus, I wouldn’t be surprised if my pups were already in you.” She smirks, and it makes you want to bite her and not in a sexy way. “I can’t have your pup. I can't have anyone pup in school full time.” You try to open the door again to no avail. “Mapi and Ona can’t have pups till they retire. We need you.” Alexia’s voice has turned to a needy whine. “So you want me to be a baby maker?”

“No, I want you to be our omega, and pups would be an added bonus. Just see if you like it for one week. If you hate it, you can go back to school, and we will leave you alone,” Alexia promises. “ I can’t not go to school; I’ll lose my scholarship.” You are over this whole conversation, but she doesn’t seem to be letting it go. “ I will sponsor your school, please. Just try, that's all im asking you. ”I can even make up a contract if that will make you feel better. Alexia looks like a kicked puppy, and you can’t kick her again. “Fine, one week”.