#all the white people are big mad in the comments!!!

[natandacat]

boomer bird ID facebook group is already delivering

[leilanihours]

# IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf/iowa!reader

word count: 4880

warnings: suggestive content, arguing

summary: your "rivalry" with a certain uconn blonde has its speculation, but no one knows what happened behind the scenes.

⭑ from lani: why is every single thing ive posted based off of a song..anyways..hope yall enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it

masterlist !

AS YOU SLIP into your black jersey, adrenaline courses through your veins. you and your teammates have successfully carried iowa to the final four of march madness. you've all come this far and refuse to break the streak.

but similar to your previous game against lsu, there's a lot of speculation surrounding the tension on the court with uconn. people are going crazy over the paige bueckers and caitlin clark face-off, but they’re going even crazier over your own heated interactions with the blonde.

the internet has decided to constantly pit you two against each other after observing your intense taunting and confrontations in previous years. they believe that it’s merely competitive tendencies but they have no idea where it all actually stems from.

you haven’t always been a hawkeye. for your first two years of college, you were a husky through and through. the public knows this, of course, which adds to the stigma around your name. but after a season-ending injury, you decided you needed a change of pace and environment. it was nothing personal against your teammates, coach, or school in general, you just felt like uconn wasn't where you were supposed to be.

so after you were in the transfer portal, everyone went ballistic. there was a plethora of reactions - some encouraging and supportive, others targeted and calling you a "traitor."

that's what the public is aware of. but they have yet to discover the deeper scars.

"you gonna lock in, y/n?" one of your teammates asks from behind you. turning around, you are met with caitlin, the other hawkeye under extremely close observation tonight.

"i gotchu," you smirk, "what about you? you gonna carry the team again?”

"you already know," she says, mirroring your expression. the two of you have gotten very close over the past couple years, which honestly makes the whole paige situation worse as people make comments like "caitlin and y/n versus paige is crazy" or "ready for this 2v1 game tonight!” they piss all three of you off but really just add to the hype and buildup of the game.

soon enough, your coach is ushering all the girls out of the locker room and onto the court. screams and cheers fill your ears as the crowd observes your entrance. and damn, if your ego wasn't high before, it definitely was now.

the two sides of the arena were filled, one side a sea of navy and white, the other a myriad of gold and black. music blasts from the speakers and makes the walls shake with energy. as you make your way over to the bench, you raise your arms repeatedly to get the crowd going. gaining an immediate reaction, you smile big and put your hand to your ear to play into the praise.

your teammates shake their heads at your antics. they know how competitive you can get. you tend to interact with the crowd and cameras a lot, but no one (especially fans at home) complains.

the crowd before you quiets down for a split second as you focus back onto what your coaches are saying in the huddle. suddenly you hear echoes of booing and other taunts as everyone turns around to see the uconn girls run out excitedly. the last one to come out is none other than paige bueckers, blonde hair in her signature braids and ponytail immediately catching your eye.

part of the reason people always compare you to her is because of how similar you are. your game style, skill set, and energy has always resembled the husky's, but you never understood it until she does the exact same hand motions you did but to the uconn supporters.

as she turns away from the crowd, her eyes dart around to find yours, doing so in a matter of seconds. her icy blue eyes send a chill down your spine as she holds intense contact. fuck. she knows exactly what she's doing. 

you can tell from the few seconds your eyes are glued to hers that she still wants you. you just know. there's too much emotion behind the stare, saying everything that needs to be said and more.

coach bluder gives the run-down on defensive assignments quickly and explains some of the plays. somehow, by some force of nature, you're stuck guarding the one person you were conflicted with: number five, paige bueckers.

your teammates all turn to you as soon as the words leave your coach's mouth. they are well aware of your special history with the blonde as well as your complicated relationship now.

"you got that, y/n?" caitlin asks you.

"yeah," you shrug, "you don't have to worry about me. i'm good." and you meant it. you were sick of being compared to paige all the time and were ready to show people who's better.

did you still care for the girl? of course; you always have and always will. but will you let that get in the way of your winning streak? hell no.

the referee beckons each team to the center of the court for the tip-off. hannah sets herself up for the jump ball, standing across from aaliyah edwards on uconn's side. 

you confidently walk over to where paige is standing. your eyes meet hers once again as you wordlessly dap her up, offering a civil front. you already know you'll being seeing the clip on your feed a lot tomorrow morning.

despite the cordial interaction, your mind is running wild at the feel of paige's long fingers brushing against yours. you missed her like crazy, but were also upset with her for multiple different reasons. right now you were enemies, opponents, rivals. but in a few hours after the game? well, you would have to wait and see.

the ref throws the ball in the air and aaliyah manages to get her fingers on the ball first to swat in her teammates' directions. uconn almost immediately turns it over due to paige missing kk's pass as the ball goes out of bounds. it's just too easy.

------

the buzzer sounds loudly, signaling the end of the second quarter and halftime. you and your teammates jog to the locker room, sweaty and out of breath. the score was currently 32-26 with uconn in the lead.

you had to admit, that definitely wasn't your team's best first half but you were ready to come back twice as hard.

"c'mon guys," lisa yells, "we gotta seriously up our game right now and fight against their defense. keep giving them as many fouls as possible.

"caitlin, we're gonna try to give you more threes, so everyone else, if caitlin has the ball, set those screens, got it?"

you all nod wordlessly as you pay attention to her words. your coach turns to you, looking you directly in the eye, her stare deadly.

"y/n, you gotta push bueckers more, don't direct all your focus on getting cait the ball. really use that energy that i know you have."

"yeah i hear you," you pant as you wipe your forehead with a towel. 

one of the coaching assistants hands you a waterbottle, so you immediately squeeze the ice cold water into your mouth without putting the nozzle on your lips. it's a habit that you have whenever you're in a rush or busy thinking about something.

"and one more thing, y/n," you hear your coach call you before you make your way back on the court, "please, for the love of god, leave your emotions out of it tonight."

the words shoot a prick in your chest, not expecting such a direct statement. nonetheless, you nod firmly, agreeing with her as you jog to where your team is lingering.

you may or may not have had a few...touchy altercations with a certain number five.

like in the middle of the first quarter...

------

"bueckers with the lay-up, does she get it? no! it is rebounded by l/n!"

your hands grasp the ball tightly under the net but before you can make your way over to the opposite side of the court, another set of hands on the ball stops you.

you look up to see paige also grabbing the ball as it sits in your hands, starting to fight to get it in her possession. with the two of you pulling back and forth, the refs whistle blows to put an end to the quarrel.

however, you two continue to push until one of your teammates wraps their arms around you to pull you off. walking away, you laugh, energized by the interaction. you put your hands up in surrender as kate releases you from her grip.

you turn your head back around to see that paige has also been forcefully pulled away by one of her own teammates with a similar expression on her face, clearly as equally as fired up as you.

------

and the middle of the second quarter...

------

"THREEEEEEE! Y/N L/N!"

you flex your arms and let out a proud yell. it's your fourth score of the night and you feel amazing. your teammates clamor over to you, patting you on your back and bumping you with their chests.

paige failed to block your attempt, putting her arms up and jumping but not being able to reach the ball before it falls in the net.

seeing her tough front falter for a second, you point a finger to her just to spice up the game a little more and get the crowd really going. she shakes her head and chuckles darkly, waving you off with a hand.

"did you see that? bueckers and l/n back at it again with their supposed rivalry, what a dynamic duo, am i right?"

------

time flies rapidly as the clock runs down. it's the last quarter of the game and tensions are at an all time high. with less than ten seconds left, iowa has the lead 71-69. it's way too close for comfort.

everyone's on edge. the announcers narrating the game for folks at home, coaches, benched teammates, the audience on either side of the court.

when uconn forces a turnover, you stand out of bounds waiting to pass the ball in. 1.1 on the clock. paige stands with her back to you. no one could've predicted your next move. 

you take advantage of her guard let down and quickly bounce the ball off of her, chopping the time in half as she fails to catch it in time and lets it out of bounds once again.

you feel a second of remorse once you catch the defeated look on her face. but you couldn't let the game slip out of your hands that easily. not without a fight.

less than one second on the clock, there's no way for uconn to win. caitlin passes the ball to gabbie who simply throws it high in the air to run down the clock.

the buzzer sounds as you and your teammates run into a group hug, screaming and cheering. you have a small celebration before going to the handshake line. as you pass and commend the uconn coaches and players, you allow your fingers to linger on paige's for a second longer than others.

when she meets your eyes there’s a look of hurt apparent in them, yours filled with guilt. you know how important that game was to her, to her entire collegiate career. but this game was also important to you, she had to know that.

------

your teammates insisted on celebrating at a nearby bar and restaurant, feeling high off the recent victory.

you were obviously down to go with them, but decided to take a little extra time in the locker room showers just to get some peace and quiet to yourself. you tell the girls that you'll catch up in your own car.

so now you're changing into a fresh set of clothes in a dim, empty locker room. some people might find the setting eerie but you enjoy the stillness of it all, especially after the day you've had. 

you’re wearing a basic white crop top and a muted purple skirt, a thick black leather jacket draped over your shoulders to protect yourself from the cold evening air. as you grab your backpack and make your way out to the gym’s parking lot, you spot a familiar figure wandering around aimlessly.

of fucking course i'm left here with her, you think.

you let out an irritated sigh as you continue to rub a small towel against your head to dry your hair.

the sound of your shoes against the pavement catches paige's attention and causes her to turn around. when she observes your relaxed, freshly showered figure, her chest tightens. whether it's from hatred or attraction, she doesn't know.

"hey," she yells to you, stalking over.

you look up to her direction and laugh, "you look like a lost puppy, bueckers."

"damn," she says, "first you decide to beat me and now you're insulting me and calling me by my last name? way to kick me when i'm down, y/n.”

you try not to display how flustered you feel when she says your name like that, “i didn't decide to beat you, i just did. deal with it."

"attitude much? i'm just tryna be civil, ma, no need for the hostility."

that fucking nickname.

"did you need something from me? i'm just tryna meet up with the team so spit it out."

"you heading to the bar?"

"yes," you say skeptically, "how the hell do you know that?"

"i'm heading there too, dumbass," she replies.

"what the hell are you talking about?"

"your team invited mine to hangout," of course they did, "is that a problem?"

"might be," you respond shortly, "so why are you here if the rest of your team is at the bar?"

"i could ask you the same question, l/n," she mocks the way you say her last name.

"i asked you first."

"eager to hear me talk i see." before you can reject the idea she interrupts you, “it’s okay, i know how much you love my voice."

she's not wrong, of course, but you would never admit it to her face. you ignore the question with a roll of your eyes.

"i took a longer shower than everyone else,” you shrug, “told 'em i'll just meet them there. your turn."

she laughs nervously before answering, “uh, i was actually supposed to get a ride from azzi but i guess she forgot," she says as she looks around the empty parking lot. now it's your turn to tease her.

"that's crazy," you laugh and shake your head, "your own friends don't even wanna be around you."

"man, shut up," she scoffs.

there's a beat of silence before you begin to walk to your car, getting the hint that the conversation was over.

you hear paige groan behind you before asking, "yo..do you think you could give me a ride?"

the nerve.

"excuse me?" you say incredulously as you unlock your car door and slip into the driver's seat. the blonde jogs up to your car, resting an arm on the frame of your door. you become hyper aware of how close you are, and how good she looks.

for the first time since you started talking to her, you take in her appearance. she's wearing a light blue cropped tank top, almost like a sports bra, and dark gray distressed jeans. there's a white uconn hoodie in her hands.

the amount of skin exposed makes your body heat up. the way her arms are flexed against your car makes you think back to the many times they've been flexed underneath your weight.

“can i. get. a ride.” she staggers out, like it’s painful to ask you for a favor. you take advantage of her position immediately.

“i dunno, can you?” you smirk.

“i fucking hate you, do you know that?”

“i dunno, do i?”

“dude.”

you throw your head forward in a laugh, shoulders shaking at her irritation.

“you’re so easy to piss off, i love it.”

“yeah well there’s a lot of other things about me that i know you love but we don’t have to talk about that.”

“do you want a ride or not?” you deadpan, “’cause if you’re gonna act like this all night i don’t want you at the bar, bro.”

“‘bro’? that’s what we’ve come to? that’s even worse than just bueckers, y/n.”

“just shut up and get in the car.”

“yes ma’am,” she says with a mock salute as she closes your door and jogs around the front of the car to the passenger seat.

as you turn on the engine, paige settles into the spot next to you and immediately reaches for the aux cord .

“um,” you pause, “what are you doing?”

“blessing you with my awesome music taste? what do you think i’m doing?”

“absolutely not,” you say, “my car, my rules.”

“um, no. the ‘rule’ is that the passenger chooses the playlist while the driver sets up the queue. we’ve been over this.”

“okay but,” you start carefully, “that was when we were together.”

silence.

“so do you want the ‘late night drives’ playlist or the ‘oldies but goodies’ playlist?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

she brushes over your comment painfully fast. you had no idea why. you refuse to leave it at that.

“just put on our playlist."

more silence. you gotta be kidding me.

“i don’t-“

“don’t even try, paige, i know you still have it.”

“but-“

“don’t fight me on this. all i want is to celebrate with my team and get a drink so can you please hurry up so we can go?”

“shit,” you hear her say under her breath, “yeah.” she pushes her hips forward as she gets comfortable in the seat.

your eyebrows furrow at the reaction. this girl is so fucking complicated. you weren’t sure if you wanted to curse her out or take her right there.

———

“y/n!! you made it!” jada squeals as you walk into the bar, “and…paige? wait. are you two back together??”

“hell no.”

“definitely not.”

you and paige turn to each other.

“oookayy..” jada trails as she pulls you away from the blonde in the direction of where your team was sat.

the girls cheer your name as you take a seat next to caitlin. you can tell they’ve already had at least two drinks each.

“hey,” caitlin says with a warm smile, “you got some catching up to do. let’s go get you a drink.”

she ushers you to the bar where you are able to sit and observe the environment. the venue is fairly dark, the ceiling lights dimmed to a warm hue with a few candles on each table. the stools at the bar were a cold metal that gave you goosebumps. all the table booths have dark brown leather couches on one side and wooden chairs with intricate designs on the other.

“so,” caitlin starts after she’s ordered you a drink, lord knows what it was, “i saw you and paige walk in together. that mean anything?”

“please,” you scoff, “i’m done with her, cait, like seriously.” she stays silent, waiting for you to continue, “i mean, she’s so annoying and cocky and confusing, it’s exhausting - i hate her.”

“you sure about that?”

“yes.”

“then why do you still put up with her?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean,” she says as the bartender delivers two of the same drink, one for you and one presumably for herself, “just stop talking to her. ignore her.”

you pause to think. “but she’s always the one starting these dumbass petty fights.”

“then don’t answer her?”

“i have to.”

“and why is that?” she eggs you on, sipping on her drink.

“because,” you sigh, “i can’t let her win.”

“or,” caitlin smirks as the two of you get up to head back to your table, “you still like being around her.”

“as if.”

“okay. tell me this then - why do you two still smile at each other like nothing has changed?”

“we almost never see them, cait.”

“no, i know but…i saw the way you looked at her today. you still like her, y/n.”

you two have returned to your seats with the rest of the team. you find yourself looking for a particular blonde (again) across the room. the uconn girls were sitting at a similar table to the one you were currently at, just on the other side of the bar.

to your relief, caitlin drops the conversation to engage in one with kate about the game. you quietly sip on your drink as you continue to stare at paige. she’s smiling - laughing - with azzi and aaliyah. you missed them. you missed her. you didn’t acknowledge it until now, until caitlin knocked some sense into you. you did enjoy being around her, mainly because it reminded you of how it was before you transferred to iowa. even though your conversations consist of constant jabs and insults, it was better than radio silence.

but you also hated it. you hated how you couldn’t be with her like you used to. you hated how you left. you hated how she treated you when you left. you hated how she acted like nothing happened. that’s why you have to win every time you’re up against her - literally and figuratively.

paige scored four three-pointers in a game? you score five. paige got six rebounds? you got seven. paige had eight assists? you had nine. it wasn’t just for yourself, it was for the media. with how they constantly have a magnifying glass on your life, you can’t jeopardize your career. so you have to be better than her.

your jaw clenches at the thought of the pressure, the expectation. you down the rest of your way too light cocktail and make your way back to the bar for a stronger drink.

“hey,” you say to the bartender, “can i get a sex on the beach, please?” he nods with a polite smile as he walks away to make your order.

“still rockin with those?” you hear an all-too-familiar voice say.

“if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” you mutter, not bothering to turn to her.

she scoffs. what is her problem now? you think.

“you’re so damn predictable,” she laughs, “it’s hilarious.”

“at least i’m reliable,” you retort, “when’s the last time you had any stability in your life?”

“when i was with you,” she says immediately.

that makes you turn your head. you are greeted with paige’s cold eyes and an unreadable expression.

“what are you doing, paige? what are we doing?” you sound exhausted.

“you tell me. i never got a good explanation when you…left.”

“i tried. you wouldn’t let me. didn’t think you wanted to hear from me after our last conversation.”

“don’t pin this on me,” she says pointedly, “you left me.”

“i didn’t have a choice, paige, you have to understand that.”

“but did you have to leave me? you know we could’ve worked it out.”

“could we have?”

she sighs. the conversation has elevated quickly. you didn’t expect her to open up like this now, to bring all of this up now. maybe it was the ambient atmosphere or the influential alcohol, or both. the man behind the bar sets your drink down on a small napkin in front of you, but you decide against going back to your table.

“so…” she says quietly, “have you been seeing anyone? i know how the fans like to twist shit, but is any of it true?”

“wouldn’t you like to know,” you laugh.

“hey, i’m just tryna gauge where you’re at right now. scope out the competition, you know how it is.”

“‘scope out the competition’?”

she shrugs.

“have you been seeing anyone?”

“have you heard that i’m seeing anyone?”

god, this girl could not give a simple answer to save her life. but two can play that game.

“maybe i have. maybe i haven’t. and maybe i’ve seen you with a certain husky named azzi?” you have no clue where you got this idea knowing damn well that they’re nothing more than friends.

“and what if i am? you jealous, ma?” they’re nothing more than friends…right?

“hilarious.”

“that’s not a no.”

“no, it’s not..” you mumble under your breath, turning away from her to avoid her burning stare.

“good.” what the hell is this girl getting at? her avoidant yet suggestive responses set something off in you. “you never answered my question.”

“i am with someone,” you lie through your teeth, wanting to get a reaction out of her.

her breath hitches, “who?” her tone is targeted with a hint of…anger?

“why do you care? you’re with azzi right?”

“i never said that.”

“but you didn’t deny it,” you point out, using her own tactics.

“i am now. i’m not with her. so who are you with?”

“i don’t need to tell you anything.”

“so you’re not with anyone?” she laughs. this girl.

“i am.”

“then tell me.”

“no.”

“fine. be like that,” and suddenly she’s pulling you up from the barstool and into a poorly-lit hallway.

“where are we going?” you demand as you two turn a corner, the only light is the distant hue from the main part of the bar.

“we need to talk about this.”

“talk about what?”

“this,” she motions between the two of you as she pushes you against a wall, one strong arm preventing you from leaving.

“there’s nothing to talk about.”

“i’m not gonna let you keep dodging this, y/n. you left me to go to whole different state with no explanation whatsoever.”

“because you ghosted me first! what was i supposed to do?”

“we were supposed to work it out. remember? when we were teammates on and off the court?”

“you shut me out.”

“because, y/n,” she sighs deeply, “i knew i couldn’t handle it if i had to say goodbye to you. i would’ve-“ she stops herself.

“you would’ve what?”

after about ten seconds of silence, she whispers, “i would’ve begged you not to go - not to leave me.”

your eyes shoot to hers, but she’s looking down at the floor. her head is almost resting against yours as you observe her adamant yet vulnerable state. you’ve never seen her like this.

from what you’ve seen online, paige seemed to have the time of her life after you transferred. you assumed that she moved on so easily, so quickly. you didn’t consider that it was all just a front.

“paige,”

“what?” she barely gets out, still avoiding your eyes.

“look at me,” she doesn’t, “please.”

her head flies up at that, “what?” she repeats.

you don’t know what to say, you just needed to see her - really see her. her eyes are filled with such clear emotion yet you can’t put your finger on what she was feeling. from her body language you can tell that she misses you. and as you realize you subconsciously put your own hand on her waist, you body is telling you that you miss her too. 

you contemplate your next move for a second, questioning if all of this is worth it. but she’s worth it. in the time you’ve spent apart from her, you grew and matured. you also realize that you need her like you need oxygen. you come to the conclusion that you always have, but it took distance and space to accept it.

not wanting to get too in your head, you smash your lips onto hers as your shoulders instantly relax. you feel paige pause but eventually melt into the kiss, moving her hands up to the nape of your neck. you bring your other hand up to her wrist, resting it there as you relish in the feeling of her lips finally against yours after almost two years. you guide her hand down to your thigh as you move to grasp her shoulders. she glides over your upper thing, riding up your lilac skirt.

she breaks the kiss for a moment, “i’ve always loved you in purple.”

before she can resume the heated kiss, you push against her and observe your surroundings. to your left is the open area you just came from, all your friends oblivious to your activities. all the way down to your right is a door leading out to the back lot and a closer door - presumably a supply closet.

you weigh out your options: do you want to stop the interaction completely, drag her into your car all the way outside, or simply shove her into the closet and have your way with her?

smirking up at her, you pull her into the closet as she laughs at your desperation but follows you nonetheless. 

yes, there were still broken pieces in your relationship. yes, you have always claimed to hate each other. but no, you weren’t leaving without her, even if you had to use handcuffs.

she was never not yours, and you were never not hers.

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[mbsneur]

Last Room

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: you hate Alexia but your best friend salma wants you to get along well with Alexia

Warnings: Smut 18+

WC: 2078

please read this text before going to the story please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

You hate Alexia, her stupid sayings, her arrogant demeanor, the fact that she always wants to take control. You just hate everything when you're around her, she just makes you angry

You had training at Barca, it was a hard training session, you were sweaty and it was hot outside. You walked off the pitch and your best friend Salma came running and put her arm around your shoulder "How can you still have so much energy?" you says laughing and you go towards to the changing room. You all had to get your flight to Paris today. You all have an event with Nike. Salma, Alexia and you the thought of Alexia coming with makes you angry

You sit down at your place and take off your shoes. Alexia and Patri come in and your smile turns into a dull look. Alexia had her big eyes on you again and you were already expecting a stupid comment: "You were good today y/n Finally you do what you're told, you're getting better ," she says to you with a laugh and Patri pushes her to the side. You roll your eyes and want to get up and go to the shower. "A simple thank you would have been enough," she calls after you You wanted to go back and tell her that she should just leave you alone and that she was annoying you but Salma came to your side and pushed you towards the shower

You just want to forget what Alexia said and you take a shower. After a while Alexia came into the shower and you open your eyes briefly and see Alexia scanning your body with her eyes

“Que pasa Alexia, what do you want, keep your fucking eyes to yourself” you say annoyed She raised her arms innocently and smiled "Should I wash your back" she said ironically and she and a few others burst with laughter. You take your towel to go out

You get dressed for the Nike event in a simple white shirt and blue jeans with white shoes. "Hey, hurry up Alexia, we have a flight to catch" Salma calls loudly towards the shower. You are about to put your things in your locker to leave You all wait until Alexia is finally finished. When she's done you run out. You all say goodbye to the others and head towards to your shuttle. The ride was quiet. You listened to music and noticed Alexia's eyes on you every now and then You always wanted to say something but you held yourself back

When you arrived at the airport you all looked for your check-in You still have some time so you decide to get something from Starbucks

You also try to keep as much distance as possible from Alexia. You were at Starbucks and then your check-in started. You handed in your luggage and went to your gate. You had time and you passed the time with music until boarding started and you left on the plane and Salma really wanted to sit at the window so you only had a seat left next to Alexia. You didn't know if this was one of Salma's tricks to bring you closer together but you didn't think it was a good idea. So Alexia sat down the middle and you in the aisle

alexia is a matcho she sat there with her legs spread as if it were natural she unpacked her laptop "alexia can you just make more space and not make your legs so wide it's annoying" you say and look at her snidely ", you really complain about everything where are your manners" she says with a laugh and looks deep into your eyes. All these comments make you angry. You decide to let her just so you can have some peace and

quiet

So you put on your headphones and fall into the seat, dozing until you finally fall asleep When the plane landed you felt someone bumping into your shoulder. You startled slightly and your head moved up from Alexia's shoulder. "Alexia, sorry, I didn't mean to on your shoulder." You said sleepily and rubbed your eyes, obviously embarrassed "It's okay," she says with a slight smile. She's suddenly so sensible. Maybe it's just because she's tired, you think to yourself

You're happy when you finally get to the hotel and can sleep in your own bed

You pick up your suitcases and look for your shuttle in front of the airport. A nice man greets you all in a black car. He takes your all suitcases from you all and asks you all to sit down. It was already evening

When you arrive at the hotel, Salma goes to the reception to pick up your room cards. "How many are you? I still have three names on my display that haven't checked in yet," the lady at the reception says nicely. "Yes, that's us," Salma tells her against "good but unfortunately I have to tell you that we only have two rooms available because you are a little late so two of you would have to share a room"

"Okay, it won't be bad," Salma says, smiling "Well, I need a signature from you here that you have accepted the room cards" Salma signs and accepts the cards

"I'll take the single room, you can share one" says Salma and walks forward "Salma no, I'm so upset I'm happy with my own bed. You can't leave me alone in a room with Alexia."

Alexia looks at you shocked "wow okay, what's your problem, I didn't choose it either, what have I done to you y/n" Alexia snaps at you, you ignore her and devote yourself to Salma "Salma, we can't share the room, you know Alexia and I don't get along," you tell Salma seriously and a little angrily.

"You'll manage to be normal for one night. There's definitely a couch or something. Tomorrow we'll be out of here again," Salma says, holding her card up to the sensor

You look annoyed at Salma as she closes the door to her room. Alexia looks at you with a laugh. "I'm warning you, don't say anything, you can sleep on the couch," you tell her and go to your room You don't know how you're going to get through this with the woman you hate. You're visibly annoyed about the whole thing. "Can't we at least treat each other normally the night , it's so difficult," Alexia says quietly to you. You've found your room and are holding your card on sensor "no alexia it's not possible your presence just annoys me you can just shut up and go to sleep right now"

You look into the room and don't see a couch

"Okey Alexia, I sleep on the side of the window and you keep your distance from me, you understand"

Alexia looks at you "why do you hate me mh" she takes a step closer to you you stand in front of the bed and look at her disparagingly she comes dangerously close „ I hate you because you always try to tell me what to do and with your stupid things Sayings are annoying" Alexia comes closer and closer and you can literally feel her breath on your face

You get a little nervous and Alexia grabs your arm. You look down and try to pull away but her grip becomes tighter

"I think you just need someone to fuck the sass out of you"

She starts kissing your neck lightly and you take your bottom lip between your teeth "Alexia, you're not as good as you think," you tell her flippantly, "let's see what a big mouth you'll still have after I've fucked you mindlessly." She says and now lets her hands slide up and down your sides, lightly squeezing the side of your chest

"Alexia you are shit, you make me so angry and you think you can give me instructions and you can't even play football"

She grabs your neck and raises an eyebrow. She pushes you onto the bed with all her strength and your breath goes out of you slightly. She pulls your shirt over your head and nibbles on your exposed skin and making you ache "give me more, come tell me more" says she against your skin and her grip on your neck becomes loose "I hate you Alexia for everything you say you think you're funny but you're not you're a desperate slut " you spit

"who is desperate and getting fucked" she spits back turning you onto your stomach

She pulls your pants over your ass and helps her by kicking them off your feet. She pulls hard on your braid which makes you scream. She pulls you up from the bed so that your ass is in the air and she pushes your head into the mattress slaps your ass hard which makes you whimper and cry after 8 more strokes she comes closer to your ear and whispers "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your hate and beg for me not to let you go" you breathe hard and sigh in the mattress

She pushes harder and says "and I fuck you so much for the bad girl you are"

you close your eyes and feel a hand in your fold alexia pumps into your hole without warning you breathe hard "fuck alexia i-fuck" you say moaning slightly and try to support yourself but she pushes you down again "mierda you are so tight baby How long have you been waiting for me?" Alexia says in a rough voice and pumps harder into you. You don't answer but instead claw at the paint. Alexia pulls hard on your braid. "Puta answer me" she says harshly. "I don't notice anything about you Even bad in bed" you say and moan loudly Alexia pushes two more fingers into you which makes you scream loudly "Alexia no I can't take it it's too much please"

you feel your tears welling up in your eyes "you'll take it until you cum and tell me who's in charge" you start to squirm and take her fingers as she tells you your legs start to weaken and shake your moans get louder and you hear loud curses from Alexia she fucks you with four fingers and you start to like it you feel how she pushes you closer to the edge "Alexia I'm close don't stop it feels so good" you say Between moans and gasps, "You won't cum until you tell me who you have to listen to" Alexia says and pinching your back lightly

you moan and don't want to say anymore but you also want to cum you want to feel her "Alexia please let me cum I'm begging you I need you to cum"

Alexia scratches your back and gets faster with her fingers. You moan and fill the whole room. "Of course you need me, Bebita I know but you have to tell me who you have listen to“

you press yourself against her "Alexia i have to listen to you let me finally cum please" Alexia laughs and starts to give you kisses "say it again" she says with a playful laugh "Alexia i have to listen to you please let me cum I can't hold it anymore"

You scream and she whispers to you that you can cum. Your eyes roll back and you moan through your hard orgasm. Alexia slows down and gently removes her fingers

do you want a part two? <33

[f14fun]

big mouth, big brain (!youtuber x op81) ~ part 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, a video essayist pops up on oscar's youtube feed, and he falls in love with the way she speaks and tells stories

smau + prose (5.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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a little over a week later, on march 24...

yourusername:

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 211,009 others

yourusername: thx babe 🧡

view comments

oscarpiastri: np honey 🧡

user1: aight what is this sudden new development 😀

user1: i mean i'm NOT complaining but YOU SIR better take care of our pookie dookie wookie y/n 🧐🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: got it, got it 😁😁🫣

user2: girl you got him blushing and shiii-

user3: omg i saw her today at the melborne gp and she was so nice to me! like i'm not familiar with who she is really (i'm new to the wonderful world of mawmaw y/n!), but i just know she will be the perfect wag <3

user3: like she saw me struggling with my lanyard, wine, and duffle bag, and offered to literally hold all three, i love her so much

user3: and her outfits are literally so cute, oscar, you chose the right one!

liked by oscarpiastri

user4: omg SHE'S REPPING THE ORANGE HEART #teampapaya

user5: y/nscar, my mawmaw and pawpaw 😘😽💋

user6: like i know they are not official official, but these soft launches gotta stoppp, just hard launch already

user7: girl is he good in bed

user7: please please please give deets, ily!

user8: fam you mad weird for that one

user9: please for the love of god respect their privacy

liked by oscarpiastri and yourusername

oscarpiastri: ready for date night 2 night?

yourusername: always ready for u 💗

user10: the BLATANT FLIRTING NAHHH

user11: imagine if this is all one big fat skit i'm actually going to scream cry throwup kms

landonorris: so nice to meet you today, love a girl who finally makes oscar stfu

yourusername: LMAOO 😭😭 it was a please lando

oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄

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I was in fact, not alright.

It had been little over a year since I had been on an actual date (not counting the instances where I went over to a guy's house for some ramen, and all of a sudden that was the date) Used to all these low effort, casual efforts at being romantic, I was suddenly hit with the prospect of an actual man who wanted to treat me with respect.

Oscar Piastri.

The man who I idolized as I grew up, always admiring his grit and courage from afar.

And this hardworking man wanted to take me out on a date. For real.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that churned within me. I smoothed my champagne white colored dress and straightened my Cult Gaia necklace. Oscar had only asked of one thing of me tonight, which was to either wear white or beige.

My heart pounded relentlessly, a drumbeat of anticipation and anxiety. It wasn't just any date; it was a date with Oscar Piastri. The very thought sent my mind spiraling. How did I, of all people, end up here? (answer: being chronically online did)

Every interaction with Oscar had been a mixture of awe and admiration. I remembered the first time I saw him race, the way he navigated the track with unparalleled skill and determination. He wasn't just a driver; he was a force of nature, a symbol of relentless ambition and hard work. And now, here I was, about to go on a date with him.

Even though he got fourth at his home race today, I was extremely proud of him. Both as a fan, and quite possibly, his girlfriend by the end of the night (the delusional girl in me said the last part, clearly).

When he had dm'd me privately after tweeting publicly he would like to take me out, I remember completely blanking. I nearly blacked out when he insisted on calling to go over the nitty gritty details of everything with me.

From flying me out, to booking my hotel and making sure my stay in Melbourne was as comfortable as possible, I was feeling a swirl of new emotions. Sure, life was going fast, but I liked this pace. Especially if Oscar could be beside me whilst life passed us by.

Balancing my studies at the prestigious university I attended and my growing presence as a vlogger had never been easy. My days were a blur of lectures, assignments, and shooting content for YouTube and various brand sponsorships. I had started with simple vlogs, but over time, my content had evolved into elaborate video essays on various topics, from Formula 1 analysis to a break down on the world's current events, both in pop culture and politics.

My followers had grown steadily, and so had the demands on my time.

Yet, despite the chaos, I had always found solace in my passion for vlogging. It was my creative outlet, a way to connect with people who shared my interests. My video essays, in particular, had garnered a lot of attention. They were meticulously researched, edited with care, and infused with my personal touch. The positive feedback I received made all the sleepless nights worth it.

But tonight, I wasn't thinking about the next video essay or the pile of coursework waiting for me. Tonight, I was focused on one thing: Oscar.

I had documented my journey to Melbourne in a vlog, capturing every moment from the airport, to the breathtaking view from my hotel room, to the race in Melbourne as well.

My followers were eagerly anticipating the next installment, but for now, they would have to wait. This was my time, a rare moment to step out from behind the camera and live in the present.

As I made my way to the lobby to meet Oscar, my phone buzzed with notifications. Messages of encouragement from friends and comments from my followers flooded in, but I silenced them. Tonight was about more than just content; it was about experiencing something real.

Exhaling as the elevator door slowly opened, the incessant ringing of jazz music seemed to warp and slow as I made eye contact with Oscar from across the lobby. He seemed nervous, fidgeting with his cufflinks.

Earlier in the day, we couldn't see each other, as media duties for the both of us consumed our time. So here we were, for the first time, meeting each other in person.

He was much taller in person than I had actually expected.

It was one thing to see him plastered across a big screen and splattered across billboards in New York City, but it was another to see this man in all his glory, in the flesh.

His shoulders seemed to broaden as I approach him, and a million thoughts were swirling in my mind. I just hoped the same million thoughts were swirling in his mind as well.

His fluffy brown hair looked newly tousled with, but not to the point where it looked terribly unruly. He looked human, with that crooked smile, and his eyes folded into little half moons—like parenthesis—he was happy to see me. As I was too.

All eloquence, sense of being, and peace of mind disappeared in an instant. Mouth slightly gapping widely, I was at a loss of words for once in my life.

Oscar Piastri is beautiful.

We simultaneously reached out for a hug, our laughter breaking the awkward silence that had settled upon us as we sized each other up for the first time. The hug was amazing, enveloping me in a warmth that felt almost surreal.

His arms wrapped around me with a gentle firmness, and I felt a sense of comfort and safety that I hadn't experienced in a long time. It was as if I had come home, even though we were standing in the middle of a bustling hotel lobby.

The hug lasted a little longer than usual, neither of us wanting to let go. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my own, and the scent of his cologne, fresh and slightly woody, filled my senses.

When I finally, reluctantly let go, his hand lingered on my waist for a moment longer, sending a shiver down my spine. The touch was intimate and unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we both felt.

As his hand finally released its gentle hold, I felt butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. My cheeks warmed, a blush creeping up as I tried to steady my breathing. I glanced up at him and saw that he was blushing a little bit too, his cheeks tinged with a soft pink.

His bashful smile mirrored my own feelings, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, we both knew this was the start of something special.

Oscar cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "I, uh, got something for you," he said, his voice tinged with nerves.

He flipped the bag he was holding around, and I could see the words Valentino sprawled across it. I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise.

"Oscar, you didn't," I whispered, my heart racing even faster.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure which one you wanted, so I got both," he admitted, looking sheepish yet proud. "One in red and one in blue."

I was completely floored. "Oscar, this is… wow," I stammered, at a loss for words. I had never expected such a grand gesture, especially not on our first date. It was one thing to admire him from afar, but to have him go to such lengths for me was overwhelming.

He shifted slightly, his nervousness palpable. "I just wanted to do something special for you," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "You deserve it."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "This means so much to me."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made my heart swell. "I'm glad you like it," he said, stepping closer. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."

I looked down at the beautifully crafted bags, my fingers tracing the elegant lettering of Valentino. Each bag represented more than just a luxury item; it was a symbol of his consideration and effort. It was clear that he had put thought into this, wanting to make a good impression and show that he cared.

"I can't believe you did all this," I murmured, still in awe. "It's… beyond anything I could have imagined."

He took a deep breath, his confidence growing slightly as he saw my reaction. "You deserve to be treated well," he said, his voice firm. "And I wanted to make sure you knew that."

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you," I repeated, my heart swelling with affection. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, his hand gently brushing against mine. "Just enjoy the evening."

As we stood there, the world around us seemed to fade away. In that moment, it was just the two of us, sharing something special and unforgettable. And for the first time in a long while, I felt truly cherished.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," I confessed, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "This is all so surreal."

Oscar's eyes softened as he took my hand in his. "It's real, Y/N. And it's just the beginning."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my cheeks flush. The thought that this was just the start of something more was both thrilling and terrifying. But as I looked into his eyes, I felt a sense of reassurance.

"Let's make tonight memorable," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Absolutely."

With a gentle squeeze of my hand, he led me out of the hotel lobby. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and as we walked towards his black McLaren that was waiting for us, I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Oscar had gone above and beyond to make this night special, and I was determined to cherish every moment.

As we approached the car, Oscar immediately took the initiative to ensure everything was perfect for me. He opened the passenger door and motioned for me to sit down, but not before adjusting the seat settings. He carefully moved the seat forward and tilted it slightly to match my height, ensuring I would be comfortable during the ride.

"Is the seat okay?" he asked, looking at me with genuine concern.

I nodded, already feeling the comfort of the perfectly adjusted seat. But he wasn't done yet. He leaned in and adjusted the air conditioning, making sure it wasn't too chilly. "I know it can get a bit cold sometimes," he said with a small smile, "so I set it to a warmer temperature."

I smiled back, appreciating his thoughtfulness. Once he was satisfied that I was comfortable, he turned his attention to my belongings. Gently taking the old bag I had brought with me, he began transferring my items into the new red Valentino bag he had gifted me. He was meticulous, making sure that nothing was left behind and that everything was placed neatly in the new bag.

"Here, let me help you with this," he said softly, his hands moving deftly as he organized my things.

Watching him, I felt a warmth spread through me. He wasn't just being thoughtful; he was showing me that he cared about every little detail, making sure that I felt special and valued.

Once he had finished, he handed me the new bag, his eyes shining with pride. "There you go," he said, his voice gentle. "Everything's all set."

I took the bag from him, my fingers brushing against his for a moment. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "You didn't have to do all this."

He shrugged modestly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to," he replied simply. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

And as he closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his kindness and attention to detail. Oscar Piastri was proving to be more than just a racing legend; he was a gentleman, someone who cared deeply and went out of his way to make me feel cherished.

Oscar didn't act like an immature, twenty-three year old boy, like some people made him out to be. Unlike the bummy guys I had known and casually dated before, this was a step up.

He maneuvered the car with ease, backing up with one hand on the steering wheel while his other arm rested casually on the back of my seat. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles shifted and tensed underneath his white collared shirt, the fabric stretching slightly over his broad shoulders. It was impossible not to find it incredibly attractive. My cheeks heated up, a blush spreading across my face. Oscar noticed and turned to look at me, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Are you blushing?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, no...I mean, maybe a little." I laughed nervously, trying to brush it off, but the warmth in my cheeks only intensified.

He chuckled, a soft, bashful sound, and I noticed a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "I guess we're both a bit flustered tonight," he admitted, glancing back at the road. The air between us felt charged with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

As we settled into the drive, the initial awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable silence. I watched the city lights blur past us, the rhythm of the car soothing my nerves. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Oscar took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You know, there's a lot of pressure in Formula 1," he said, his voice thoughtful. "It's not just about the races. There's so much that goes on behind the scenes—training, media obligations, sponsorships. It can be overwhelming sometimes. But having someone like you here tonight, it makes it all feel worth it."

I smiled, touched by his openness. "I can only imagine how tough it must be," I replied. "Balancing my studies and vlogging is already a handful. There are days when it feels like I'm barely keeping up with everything. But tonight...I'm really grateful to be here with you."

He glanced over at me, his eyes soft and understanding. "Sounds like we both have a lot on our plates," he said. "But maybe tonight, we can just focus on ourselves and leave all those distractions behind."

"Agreed," I said, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Tonight is just about us."

We exchanged smiles, a silent agreement to make the most of this evening and cherish the time we had together. The city lights blurred past us as we drove on, the world outside fading into the background as we found solace in each other's company. The pressures of our respective worlds felt miles away, replaced by a shared sense of tranquility and excitement for what the night had in store.

The McLaren navigated smoothly through the city streets, and with each passing moment, I found myself more captivated by Oscar's presence. His occasional sideways glances and the genuine interest he showed in our conversation made me feel seen and appreciated in a way I hadn't experienced before. It was refreshing to connect with someone on such a deep level, especially amidst our busy lives.

"I've always admired your dedication to racing," I said, breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between us. "It must take an incredible amount of discipline."

Oscar smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you," he replied sincerely. "It's my passion, but it's also a demanding profession. Every race, every decision matters. It's a constant balancing act, trying to perform at your best while managing everything else."

"I can relate," I admitted with a small laugh. "Trying to balance university assignments, vlogging, and now, this unexpected but wonderful evening—it's a lot to juggle."

He nodded thoughtfully. "You're doing an amazing job," he reassured me. "Not many people can handle all of that with such grace."

The compliment warmed my heart, and I felt a surge of gratitude towards him. "Thank you, Oscar. And for what it's worth, I think you handle the pressures of Formula 1 admirably."

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The city lights cast a soft glow on his features, accentuating the earnestness in his expression. "I appreciate that," he said softly. "Having you here tonight, it's a reminder of why I do what I do."

A comfortable silence settled between us once more, filled with unspoken understanding and a growing connection. The air inside the car was charged with an undeniable chemistry, a magnetic pull that drew us closer with each passing minute. It was a rare and precious moment, where time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor each other's company without the weight of responsibilities and expectations.

Oscar glanced at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face, "if you keep blushing like that, I'm going to think you're a better driver than me."

I laughed, my cheeks still warm. "Oh please, you know I'm terrible with directions. I'd probably get us lost before we even reach the restaurant."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, don't worry, I'll be your GPS for the night. Just don't expect me to be as reliable as my car on the track."

At a stoplight, he turned to look at me, and to my surprise, he brushed a loose strand of my hair away from my face to the back of my head. Holding my chin, he smiled, and a small smirk blossomed across his face.

Imagine my shock horror when I started blushing again. It felt like that one Grey's Anatomy episode where a girl wouldn't stop blushing, and got surgery to treat her incessant blushing.

Yes, I really felt like Kelly Roesch every time I was around Oscar.

"Y/N, do I really make you blush that much?" Oscar smirked and looked forward, as the light had changed back to green. Pressing the gas pedal, he sped off, and I let out a gasp from how fast the car was going.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, maybe I am blushing, what about it?" I dared to challenge playfully, immediately regretting my boldness and the sudden surge of moxie.

Oscar turned to look at me, his smile widening. "You're adorable when you blush," he remarked, his tone warm and affectionate.

Embarrassment tinged with delight colored my cheeks even more. "Well, you have that effect on me," I confessed, feeling a rush of courage.

He chuckled softly. "Good to know," he teased gently, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the road.

The playful banter eased the tension between us, infusing the car with a light, flirtatious energy. As we continued driving through the city streets, our conversation flowed effortlessly, alternating between laughter and more serious topics.

Oscar shared anecdotes from his racing career, injecting humor into tales of close calls and victories, while I recounted memorable vlogging experiences and the challenges of managing a demanding schedule.

Each exchange deepened our connection, fostering a sense of mutual understanding and admiration. There was an unspoken chemistry between us, a magnetic pull that grew stronger with every shared laugh and meaningful glance. I

t was as if we had known each other for much longer than just this evening, our bond forged in the shared pursuit of passion and ambition.

By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the initial nervousness had transformed into a comfortable familiarity. Oscar held the car door open for me with a gallant smile, his gestures both chivalrous and endearing.

As we walked into the restaurant together, hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that brought us here.

When we arrived at the front entrance of the restaurant, I was once again struck by the thoughtfulness of his choices. The place was elegant yet intimate, with a cozy ambiance that made me feel instantly at ease.

Oscar had clearly put a lot of thought into every detail, and it was impossible not to be touched by his efforts.

As we sat down, I couldn't help but smile at him. "You really went all out, didn't you?" I teased gently.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Only the best for you."

I blushed, feeling the warmth of his words wash over me. "Thank you, Oscar. For everything."

"You're worth it," he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, I knew that this was more than just a date. It was the beginning of something beautiful, something that had the potential to grow into a deep and meaningful connection.

And as the night unfolded, filled with laughter, conversation, and a shared sense of excitement, I realized that I was ready to embrace it wholeheartedly.

As we settled into our seats at the cozy restaurant, the atmosphere around us seemed to hum with a quiet energy. Oscar and I exchanged glances, a knowing smile playing on both our lips, as if silently acknowledging the unspoken tension between us.

"So, Y/N," Oscar began, his voice low and playful, "tell me more about your vlogging. Any juicy behind-the-scenes stories?"

I chuckled, stirring my drink slightly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Endless editing sessions, occasional tech disasters. But it's all worth it when I get to share something meaningful with my followers."

"Sounds like a lot of work," he mused, his gaze lingering on mine. "But I bet you enjoy every minute of it."

"Most of the time," I admitted, feeling a rush of warmth at his attentiveness.

As I settled into recounting the tea ceremony mishap, I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory, though at the time, it had been far from funny. "So, there I was, kneeling beside this beautifully arranged tea set," I began, gesturing animatedly with my hands. "The camera was perfectly positioned to capture this serene moment. I was about to take a sip of the freshly brewed tea when suddenly, the tripod leg gave way."

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes fixed on me with rapt attention. "No way," he interjected, clearly intrigued.

"Yes way," I confirmed with a laugh. "And in that split second, everything descended into chaos. The camera toppled over, knocking into the low table where the tea set was displayed. Cups shattered, tea leaves scattered everywhere, and I, in a desperate attempt to catch the camera, managed to knock over a delicate vase of flowers."

Oscar's laughter filled the air, a genuine and infectious sound that made me smile even wider. "You must have been in shock," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

"I was," I admitted, recalling the moment vividly. "But somehow, amidst the chaos, I kept rolling. I think I was in such disbelief that I just kept filming, capturing the aftermath of the disaster. Tea leaves floating in the air, water dripping from the overturned vase—it was a scene straight out of a comedy."

"And your viewers got to witness it all?" Oscar asked, still chuckling.

"Oh, they did," I confirmed, a grin spreading across my face. "And surprisingly, they loved it. I received so many comments about how refreshing it was to see the behind-the-scenes reality, even if it meant watching me fumble through a tea ceremony."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his chair. "It just goes to show," he mused, "sometimes the unplanned moments make the best stories."

"Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, ready to share tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Well, there was this one time in Australia," he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "During one of my rookie years, I had a near-miss with a kangaroo. It came out of nowhere, right in the middle of the track. I had to swerve so hard I thought I'd end up in the barriers."

I gasped, eyes wide. "A kangaroo? Seriously? Only you would have an experience like that!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Yep, only in Australia, right? But that wasn't the end of it. The kangaroo didn't just stay on the track. It jumped over the barriers and ended up in the audience. People were screaming and trying to get out of its way. It was pure chaos."

"Oh my God," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, thankfully," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling. "Security managed to corral the kangaroo and get it to safety. But it was definitely one of the most chaotic moments I've ever experienced on the track. The race had to be stopped for a few minutes until everything was under control.

The whole time, I was just sitting in my car, watching this kangaroo cause mayhem and thinking, 'Is this really happening?'"

I couldn't stop laughing at the mental image. "I can't believe it. That's insane. Did they ever find out how the kangaroo got there in the first place?"

Oscar shook his head, a smile still playing on his lips. "No idea. It was one of those freak occurrences. But it definitely made for an unforgettable race. Every time I go back to that track, I half expect to see another kangaroo waiting to jump out."

I giggled, feeling a warm connection building between us. "Well, I hope not. One near-miss with a kangaroo is more than enough for a lifetime."

He nodded in agreement, his smile broadening. "Yeah, definitely. But hey, it makes for a great story to tell on a first date, right?"

I blushed at his words, realizing just how special this evening was becoming. "Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of other dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, ready to share more tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Oh, I have plenty," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "There was this one time when..."

As he launched into another story, I couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly we were connecting, each story weaving us closer together in this unexpected evening of laughter and shared experiences. The initial awkwardness had completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfort and camaraderie that felt both exciting and natural.

"You have some pretty wild stories," I said, still marveling at the idea of a kangaroo on the track. "I can't imagine how you keep your cool in situations like that."

He shrugged, a modest smile playing on his lips. "You get used to it, I guess. Racing teaches you to expect the unexpected. But it's not always as dramatic as dodging wildlife. Sometimes it's the little things that make a big difference, like dealing with sudden changes in weather or handling a tricky pit stop."

I leaned in, fascinated. "Tell me more about the pit stops. They always seem so intense on TV."

Oscar's eyes lit up as he delved into the intricacies of pit stops, explaining how every second counts and how the coordination between the driver and the crew is crucial. "It's a lot of pressure," he admitted, "but when it goes smoothly, it's one of the most satisfying parts of the race."

I nodded, absorbing every word. "It sounds like such a team effort. I never realized how much went into it."

"Exactly," he said, clearly pleased by my interest. "It's one of the things I love most about racing—the teamwork and the camaraderie. Everyone has to be at their best for the team to succeed."

We continued to share stories, the conversation flowing easily. I told him about my vlogging adventures, from the hilarious mishaps to the rewarding moments when a video resonated with my audience. Oscar listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and laughing at my anecdotes.

As the night grew later, the atmosphere around us became more intimate. We moved closer, our shoulders almost touching. The moonlight glimmered off the water, casting a soft glow on Oscar’s face.

"That sounds amazing," he said, his voice low and warm, his Australian accent adding a melodic lilt that sent shivers down my spine. Every word he spoke seemed to resonate deep within me, his low vibrato giving me butterflies.

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Thanks. It's not always easy, but it's definitely worth it."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was light, almost tentative. "I can tell," he said softly, his accent making each syllable feel like a caress. "Your eyes light up when you talk about it."

My heart skipped a beat as his hand lingered on my cheek. He leaned in, and before I could fully process what was happening, his lips brushed against my cheek in a soft, lingering kiss.

"You’re really something, you know that?" he murmured, his lips close to my ear. His breath sent shivers down my spine, his accent making the words even more intoxicating.

I felt my cheeks flush, a smile spreading across my face. "You’re not so bad yourself," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. The way his accent rolled off his tongue was doing things to me I hadn't anticipated.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I've been wanting to kiss you all evening." His accent made the confession sound even more alluring.

"Is that so?" I asked, my voice playful yet breathless. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering wildly.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Absolutely. You’ve been driving me crazy with that smile of yours," he said, his accent making the words feel even more intimate and personal.

I laughed softly, feeling a mixture of flattery and nervous excitement. "Well, I guess I'm guilty as charged."

He leaned in closer, his lips now brushing against my ear. "Maybe we should make a habit of this. I like seeing you happy," he whispered, his accent sending delicious shivers down my spine.

My heart raced as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You’re pretty good at making that happen," I admitted, feeling a surge of boldness. The way his voice, with its rich accent, played over my senses made me feel something stirring inside.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he reached for my hand. "Follow me," he said, his voice filled with playful promise. His touch was electric, sending a thrill through me as I placed my hand in his.

"Where are we headed to next?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. I was clearly blushing and super happy, unable to hide my excitement.

Oscar’s smile widened. "A yacht," he said simply, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and 220,018 others

yourusername: finally, date night!

view comments

user1: i'm going to totally pretend that your now "chill" caption truly encapsulates how you are feeling (you were freaking out on priv earlier)

oscarpiastri: priv??! let me follow the account @/yourusername

yourusername: priv... what are you talking about i don't have a priv

oscarpiastri: 🧐🫵🏻

francisca.cgomes: what a beautiful girl 💋💋

yourusername: you're talking! babe you ae so beautiful as well 💋

oscarpiastri: are you flirting with my girl @/francisca.gcomes???

user2: MY GIRL SJIJSJORJDSS

user3: that's so alpha male of you oscar

yourusername: so what if she is 🙄

oscarpiastri: i've had her for less than a day let gooo 😥

francisca.cgomes: idc 🙄🙄

charles_leclerc: children please stop fighting

pierregasly: @/francisca.cgomes ... babe what about me

user4: LMAO KIKA NOT ANSWERING BAHAHA

user5: mawmaw yi pawpaw

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

user6: guys i just happened to be at the same resturaunt as them tonight bc of a family dinner and let me tell YOUUU, they were so flirty with each other omg. like i sat at the table adjacent to their left so i got a birds eye view of all of the blushing. like he kept intentionaly touching her hand and stuff it was so cute 😵‍💫🫠🥰

user7: landonorizz you got some competition @/landonorris

user8: yeah lando, i fear oscar may have more rizz than you

landonorris: 🙄👊🏼

user9: call him, oscarizz...?

user10: 💀💀 nahh that didn't hit LMAO

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 628,100 others

oscarpiastri: i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it

view comments:

yourusername: NO OSCAR THE CAPTION 😥😥😥

yourusername: HE DOESN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

yourusername: OSCAR AND I DIDN'T FUCK

oscarpiastri: exactly, a gentleman never does such thing on a first date

yourusername: WHY IS THAT YOUR CAPTION NOOOO

oscarpiastri: people are not misunderstanding 🫷🏻🫸🏻

yourusername: OSCAR THEY ARE MISUNDERSTANDING IN THE COMMENTS

yourusername: I DID NOT DO SUCH DEED

user1: i love how y/n is literally freaking tf out and oscar is chill

user2: LMAO i can just see the cartoon silly steam leaking from her ears everytime oscar does anything

user3: god i don't even know if i want to be her or oscar

user4: i choose both.

user5: THEY FUCKED??? 😡😡🤬🤯🤯🤯😰😰😰😰🫨🫨🫨🤐

user6: oscar MY MAN the caption feels a little... sus

user7: had to clean my glasses to reread the caption

user7: because y/n's beauty was genuinely blinding me

user8: aight oscar who wrote that caption 😵😵

user9: ignoring the weird??! caption, they look SOOO CUTE UGH

yourusername: TYSMMMM <3 (pls ignore the weirdass caption yes, yes pls do that)

user10: LMAO

charles_leclerc: ...

oscarpiastri: father, please look away

yourusername: oh!- so NOW your embarassed

charles_leclerc: sending a screenshot of the caption to your mother brb

oscarpiastri: i hope you are reffering to alex

charles_leclerc: no, i definitely mean nicole

oscarpiastri: DELETE DELETE DELETE

logansargeant: bro your cooked

charles_leclerc: "OSCAR JACK PIASTRI" - what your mom said, she said it, not me

charles_leclerc: "HAVE SOME MORE DECORUM YOUNG MAN" - nicole

charles_leclerc: "TREAT A LADY WITH RESPECT"

oscarpiastri: ma'am yes ma'am 🫡🫡🫡

yourusername: god i love your mom @/oscarpiastri

yourusername: ty for doing me a service 🙏🏼🙌🏼 @/charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: no problem, a future leclerc-piastri deserves the best 🫡

charles_leclerc: (you better wife her up)

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oscarpiastri posted on his story

caption: i finally got my dream girl her dream bags 🫶🏻❤️🧡💙

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 (part THREE yay or nay?!)

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.” They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[ratskinsuit]

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

———————————————————————

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

———————————————————————

Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

———————————————————————

A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

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Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

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Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

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An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

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The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[thewulf]

If You Insist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - What if one of reader's love language Is act of service,She used to prepare a lunch box for her and her (now ex) boyfriend but he never appreciated the gesture,because he isn a kid and could buy food like his other team mates... Read Rest Here

A/N: This is just PURE fluff. Insecure reader a little bit and a very confident fluffy Jake!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k +

While you finished putting the leftovers away into glass containers Jake finished off the dishes beside you humming a song you didn’t recognize. You danced alongside him regardless, his bounciness rather infectious. You found everything about the blonde man beside you mesmerizing. Even after as long as you’ve known him and as long as you’ve been dating him you never ceased to get butterflies by his flirty comments. He never grew tired of making you blush. The day you stopped was the day he knew he fucked up.

No matter how tired he was after a long day in the air he made sure to never let you have the brunt of the chores when it came to housework. He knew you worked just as hard, if not harder, as a patent lawyer for a local firm that kept you very busy. Jake didn’t know the half of your job but when it came to listening to you dominate a conversation on the phone he knew he was absolutely head over heels for you. He found you so damn attractive when you put people down with legal jargon he could hardly understand. He was rather helplessly in love with you. Not that he minded, not a bit. He loved being in love with you. It was easy with you. Blissful with you.

Good thing too, because you were just as in love with him as he was with you. While he hadn’t proposed just yet he had big plans too. He knew he wanted to do something with the jets he flew on a daily basis but just hadn’t figured out the perfect plan. So, it’d just gave to wait a little while he talked it through with his coworkers formulating a fool proof plan that’d surly have you saying yes to him.

You and Jake had met by complete chance at the national air show during fleet week in San Diego. You’d been dragged out by your roommate who claimed you never did anything fun, so you had to prove her wrong. To your absolute horror you quite literally ran into Jake, spilling your nacho cheese all over the front of his Navy whites. You’d become a stuttering mess of a human and nearly cried you were so embarrassed when you saw the fake yellow cheese coat his perfectly pristine uniform. But Jake took it in stride. He calmed you down reassuring you that he wasn’t mad or upset. He was actually thrilled you ran into him because you were ‘quite stunning’ which brought out a brilliant blush to your cheeks. That same blush Jake strived to get from you on a daily basis. He had yet to fail.

From that moment on the two of you were glued at the hip. You’d taken it slow going from acquaintances to friends to best friends before he finally worked up the courage to ask you on a date a year after the nacho cheese fiasco. Fast forward another year and you’d never been happier in your life. You’d been dating and falling helplessly in love with your best friend. A man you only knew as Jake but heard of the stories of him as his callsign Hangman.

“Thank you.” You smiled sweetly at your boyfriend as he took the last plate from your hands.

“No need to thank me sweetheart.” He put the plate in the dishwasher, cleaned his hands and walked right up to you before planting a soft kiss right on your forehead, “Teamwork, remember?” He raised his eyebrows at  you referencing an earlier conversation the two of you had regarding housework. You felt guilty early on in the relationship when he would do random chores or cook you dinner. You felt like a failure of a girlfriend. That’s how your ex would’ve framed it anyway. He wasn’t the best guy you’d come to learn as you figured out what a loving relationship was actually supposed to be like. Jake had reassured you that as partners he would take on some of the housework and help you out. He’d made it clear it was a partnership that was always going to be worked on.

You hummed acknowledging him, “I know, I still appreciate it though.” You leaned up on your tippy toes kissing his cheek with a slowness about you that wanted to cherish the still moment you were having with the man you adored, “I appreciate you.”

He scooped you up in his arms with ease, “Of course darlin’.” Kissing your nose this time he walked over to the couch carrying you in his arms where he set you down softly before pulling you into him once more. Not that you were complaining. You learned quickly how much of a physical touch kind of guy he was. You initially weren’t. But you’d come to love it. You loved giving him what he needed and craved, it made you feel good.

“Thank you for dinner.” He squeezed your hip, “It was delicious.” Jake lived for moments like these. Moments where it was just you and him. The house was quiet. Life was relaxed. You were as beautiful as ever. It revived him after long days of relentless thinking and berating from his superiors. You recharged him without doing a single thing. That’s how he knew you were his one and only. He just wanted to be around you, no question. He’d choose you over and over again without so much as a second thought. He thought he knew love before you, but he was sorely mistaken. Each and every day with you was a gift he made sure to cherish and relish. He just hoped you knew how much you meant to him. How he literally couldn’t do life without you anymore. You were his shining beacon, his north star, the guiding light he never knew he needed. And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing that thing that kept him chugging along. He needed you. Now and forever.

You grinned up to him, brushing his overgrown hair out of his face, “You know it babe. I know you’ve had a rough week. Want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to but it looks like somethings on your mind?” You asked softly noticing the small changes. He never snapped at you, but he seemed more irritated, more on edge. Had he gotten a new assignment? Gotten into an argument with a superior? It wasn’t like him to not talk to you about it, no matter how small.

He laughed it off softly, “It’s dumb, really.”

You shook your head before resting it on his chest. Breathing in his scent you were sure you’d never tire of it. He always just smelled so damn good. No matter what. After a workout? He smelled heavenly. A long day of work? No sweat, he smelled perfect. Waking up? The most amazing morning scent. You were attracted to him no matter what. That’s how you knew you were a goner. He never made you angry or annoyed either. As much as you loved your friends and family they still always annoyed you to pieces when you spent an extended amount of time with them. Not Jake, no. You could spend every second tied at the hip for the rest of eternity and still have a good time.

“I promise it’s not dumb if it’s bothering you.” You spoke as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

He wrapped an arm around you to secure into his chest, “The admiral decided the cafeteria needed a renovation, so we’ve been without one for the week. Thought it’d be okay but I’m struggling. We’re all struggling” He laughed hating to admit how defeated he was by the simple problem, “Not enough time to run out for food and well… I haven’t packed a lunch since I was twelve. Seems like the whole squadron is in the same boat.”

You smiled giving him a squeeze, “That’s not dumb Jake. You’re just hungry my love.”

He gave you a sheepish smile back, “I haven’t taken it out on you, have I?”

Shaking your head you ran along his arm, “Hardly. You just seemed a little more agitated this week is all.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” He closed his eyes leaning back into the couch relishing every second he got with you like this. Utter peace. He’d wish for nothing else other than this. Life was bliss with you.

You laughed softly letting yourself mold into him preparing yourself for the movie night Jake had proposed earlier on during dinner. Your favorite kind of night. A night spent in cuddling up to your favorite human to ever exist. This was what life was made for. What else could you really ask for?

“Hardly.” You yawned mumbling into his side feeling your week catch up to you, “I’d be a shitty lawyer if it did.”

“You could never be shitty at anything, not even if you tried darlin’.” Jake spoke while rubbing your head with the softest strokes knowing it was your ultimate weakness. You wouldn’t be awake for too much longer if he continued doing it and he knew it.

You hummed, “Flatter me Seresin.” You felt drunk for the tiredness the didn’t allow your eyes to open.

You felt the vibration of his chest before hearing the sound of his laughter, “Flattery or truth?”

Mumbling something incoherent you didn’t even know you were saying you let the darkness take over as you fell asleep on your rock. He made you feel more safe and secure than anyone or anything had before. He was worth the wait and the shitty relationships you struggled through before.

You didn’t think much of it as you packed a second lunch for Jake while making your own the next morning. You had to be in early this week for court, so you were up before him for a change. You’d decided to just go ahead and pack the innocent man his own lunch that would actually fill him up instead of the random shit you knew he just threw together in the morning while he was half awake.

You wrote him a simple note, ‘Hope you enjoy, love you!’ Leaving it on top of the food and putting it in the fridge hoping he’d appreciate the small gesture.

You’d forgotten all about it until Jake had made it back to your apartment that night. You weren’t expecting him but it was always a pleasant surprise when he did come over. Instead of his usual gentle kiss he all but bull rushed you into a corner before scooping you up and slathering you in a slew of kisses all over your face.

You started giggling feeling all too giddy with his lips all over and his hands roaming your waist, “Jake!” You couldn’t contain the laughter from the high of the interaction between you and him. God, you loved this man beyond measure.

“I love you soooo much.” He grinned once he pulled back. He made sure to go in for one, much longer, kiss on your lips before wrapping his

You kept on giggling not sure where this was all coming from. Not that you were complaining. Not in the slightest. It was refreshing to have a partner who was so forthcoming with how he felt. It was so different than any relationship you had been in prior.

“I love you too! Where’s this coming from?” You had to ask hoping it wouldn’t dampen his sweet mood.

“You packed me a lunch. Do you know how jealous the squadron was? Rooster couldn’t believe it. Phoenix was jealous as hell. Fanboy was all but begging for the sandwich you packed.” He snickered recalling the envious faces of his dagger coworkers.

You shook your head, “That was nothing babe.” You said as if it were nothing. Truth be told you were insecure about the whole thing. Not knowing if you overstepped a boundary or anything. The last time you tried to do something sweet like that for your ex you got scolded for wasting food because he didn’t ask you to pack him a lunch. You were careless and wasteful. You should’ve known it would’ve been different with Jake though. Everything was different when it came to Jake. The polar fucking opposite of the narcissistic guys you normally dated.

He shook his head setting you back down on the ground, “Nothing? Sweetheart! That was everything. Thank you. I love you.” He made sure to plant another soft, gentle kiss to your lips just to let you know how sincere he was being.

You grinned up to him, “Really, it was nothing.” You insisted before plating up dinner for the now two of you. You’d always made extra for lunch, so it wasn’t a hassle that he came. It was a pleasure to have his company when you were expecting to sit in silence or watch some silly rerun you’d seen a hundred times.

He eyed you knowing how hard it was for you to take compliments, “No sweetheart, that’s wifey material.” He watched your reaction seeing how’d you respond to that.

“Oh, is it?” You laughed it off setting a plate down in front of him at the table.

“Beyond.” He nodded before looking down at dinner, “And now my favorite for dinner? Like you were expecting me or something?” He gave you a grin knowing you loved the dish just as much as he did, “You’re spoiling me honey.”

You grabbed your own plate before joining him, “You deserve it. You do the same for me. Let me.”

He simply nodded his head happily grabbing at his fork, “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do babe, I do.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm taking about your day.

The next day at work you’d gotten a few texts from numbers you weren’t familiar with. When you finally got a second at your own lunch break to check you broke out into a grin seeing the video Bradley had sent you.

Jake was showing off the lunch you packed him to the overly jealous group of pilots. Who were all sing songing your praises.

‘You’re so lucky. My girlfriend told me to pack my own damn lunch.’ A male voice you didn’t recognize came through making you laugh.

Natasha’s unmistakable voice came next, ‘She’s too good to you Hangman.’

‘Trust me, I know.’ You heard your loves own voice sending your heart into a literal tizzy. How could he think that? If anything, it was the other way around. He was too damn good to you. You just merely tried to return the favor.

Bradley sent the video with the text, ‘You spoil him you know that? He’s become extra insufferable these last few days with your lunch specials.’ Bradley made sure to end the text with a wink letting you know he was just playing with you.

You dialed Jake’s number not sure if he was back in the skies or not. But the quick answer let you know he was still available.

“Sweetheart! Is everything okay?” he asked almost nervous for your call to him.

“All good babe.” You were grinning ear to ear, “Bradley sent me a video, enjoy your lunch?”

He chuckled. A sound you’d come to cherish over the course of your relationship with him, “Darlin’, I loved your lunch. Love your lunches. I’ve never felt so happy eating a lunch before. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m being serious.” He admitted quieting down with the second part of that statement probably trying to hide it from his dagger squad members.

“I’m glad you like it hon. Just wanted to check in.” You spoke with a full on happy little smile dancing across your face. You weren’t sure what good you did to deserve a love so pure as his but damn were you thrilled you snatched it up when you could. A love so secure and sure, so positive and pure.

He clicked his tongue, “I’m going to make it up to you, tonight.”

You retuned his laugh from earlier, “Jake, that’s hardly necessary.”

You were sure he was shaking his head, “See that’s where your wrong sweetheart. It’s very necessary. I want to. What’d you say last night? Let me spoil you? Well, let me spoil you pretty.”

You wished you were at home with him right now and not separated by miles and a base, “Alright, if you insist.” You joked along with him.

“I insist. And I think you’ll like it, the surprise that is.” His voice deepened hinting at one thing and one thing only.

You twirled your hair in your hand letting your mind wander just a tad. With a love so sure it was only natural things came easily between the two of you in the bedroom, “Any hints?” You teased along with him.

“I think you have an idea sweetheart.” He didn’t miss a beat letting you know exactly what he had in mind. You, him and a lack of clothing or something like that.

You sighed internally looking at the time, only half past one. The day was going to drag on, “Can’t wait.” You let out after a quick pity party for yourself.

He gave you one last deep chuckle, “You can’t? I can’t wait to see that beautiful face.” You knew he could get a lot more… graphic with it. But he was likely standing right next to Bradley or Bob, and it wasn’t the time nor place.

Pursing your lips you stifled the laugh, “I’ll see you at my place tonight?”

“I’ll see you. Be ready. Love you.”

“And I love you.” You hummed before ending the call. Shaking your head, you placed the phone on the desk next to you. Focus. Just focus on this case for the next four hours then you had a night to Jake. You could do this. You could. Jake would surely be the death of you though. But you just couldn’t care. You were going to let yourself be distracted and happy. You were in love with the best man for you. Oh how happy life could be.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

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[mybworlds]

Sex with stranger, one-shot

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: You, a beautiful stranger, an elevator.

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning tags: porn with lil plot, no use of Y/N, no outbreak, use of 'you', age difference not specified, smut, use of pet name, dirty talk, fingering, f & m masturbation, unprotected P in V, oral f receiving, if I miss smt please write me.

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

It was the end of the second semester when you met him, the man who would fuel your wildest sexual fantasies, your obsession, your sociolinguistics teacher, Dr. Miller. Before you met him you were a young woman always hunched over your books, focused on finishing your course of study as soon as possible, always ready to commit to a thousand and one projects just to get the most credits that would allow you to finish as soon as possible, then one day in February your eyes fell on his figure and that's where it all went to hell.

You're at the little kiosk outside the campus with one of your many unfailing books, this time it's the turn of the sociolinguistics book, your next course and next exam. Everyone had told you you'd soon meet the most bastard professor in the campus, the one with the cold stare, with smirks which he seemed initially to want to seduce you and then sink you in later, with a strong presence and a strong southern accent. Some had been positively impressed at first sight only to call him an asshole on the exam, others had called him a big bastard and that was it. You were never afraid to be confronted with punctilious and penetrating-looking professors, you just had to study and know more than him and everything would be fine.

That morning, you anticipate on purpose, you want to get to class before everyone else, even before the famous Dr. Miller. Arriving at the lobby, you read on the small monitor about his lecture would be on the fourth floor in Lecture Hall F. So, you head for the elevator, press the little button to call it, and wait. You are flanked by a man whom you don't dignify with a glance, however, too focused on arriving early, getting there first, being called an excellent student even by this other professor.

The doors open, and you enter, followed by this man. The doors close and you take a long breath; you never liked elevators, but that morning you made an exception. Not even a minute later the cabin stops with a jolt, and you find yourself staggering against the wall, the lights inside flicker and you start to sweat.

"Oh no." you find yourself groaning as you close your eyes.

"Afraid of elevators, aren't ya?" a voice asks you. Only then you remember you are not alone; you look up and find yourself observing the man standing there with you. Powerful physique, white shirt turned up to the elbows, jacket folded over one arm, curious look, dark brown eyes.

"Never liked 'em," you answer him, opening the jacket to breathe.

"It's okay, little one, we'll be out soon." the man says with a strong southern accent.

Little one? No one has ever called you that-- not even your ex, you find yourself thinking about that jerk and how he had sleazily cheated on you with your best friend before you started college, you've had a hard time trusting men ever since. In fact, after him, relationships with men have always been one-night stands. You were in fact too burned.

"I like people like you who anticipate, everyone should be like that," the man comments again.

You take a long look at his face, he's a handsome man, "Thank you. I'm here to make a good impression and instead I'm going to be late and maybe the professor will even be mad at me because he'll probably say you have to use the stairs instead of the elevator before going to class." now you're talking off the cuff and before long the guy is likely to tell you to shut up because he doesn't care, but then again he does, why should he listen to you?

"I'm sure he'll understan'." he tells you, throwing you a long look from head to toe.

You had even dressed strangely well that morning, you had decided to wear a dark suit and loafers with a bit of a heel, anything to make a good impression. Instead, you now have this stranger's gaze devouring you.

You notice the glint in his eyes, the way he licks his lips, you are not stupid, you understand by now what goes on in men's heads. You know when someone wants you, and the man next to you is no exception.

"You wanna fuck me?" you ask him direct, approaching him lewdly.

The man approaches you, he's tall, he's broad, "Yes." he simply answers you by dropping his jacket at his feet and then bridging the distance between him and you.

He places his lips on yours slipping his tongue into your mouth, you immediately accept it returning the kiss letting a moan escape into his mouth, you place your hands on his chest feeling him mighty under your fingers as you feel his hands in your hair and push you not too gently against the elevator wall.

You are crushed between the wall and his body, but you don't complain about it. You delight in hearing the stranger almost growl into your mouth, as you feel him place his hands on your hips almost pushing you against him.

You take that gesture as an invitation to continue, you place your fingers on the edge of his pants, then with one hand caress his still-covered intimacy, and this time you hear clearly a growl coming from his throat.

He pulls his lips away from yours only to look into your eyes to read if there is any hesitancy in you, but you don’t stop, don’t desist, not now that your senses are completely enveloped by his strong presence. He then pounces on your neck, lapping it with kisses and gentle bites that send discharges of pure lust all along your body, while with his hands he pulls away the flaps of your jacket, opening it and sliding it down your shoulders.

"You're so soft, little girl," he tells you without stopping kissing your neck.

You slip your hand into his pants, feeling his growing erection against the palm of your hand, caressing it blissfully with that soft and hard feeling at the same time.

"Take 'em off." he orders you, and you obey, lowering both his pants and boxers together, freeing his massive erection.

"Fuck, you’re so big." you groan resuming stroking his intimacy.

He smiles as he unbuttons your shirt, "Hope you're ready, little girl," he tells you, sliding your shirt off as well before lapping at your neck, your collarbones of kisses alternating with licks and small bites.

"Can't wait for you to fill me," you tease him, abandoning his erection and running your hands through his curly hair and pressing his head against your chest.

He resumes kissing you, threading his hands through your hair as he rubs against you. When you started that day, you had no idea that you were going to have sex with a stranger, you usually have sex after at least some super alcohol, never sober.

He then runs his huge hands over your chest until he frees your breasts from the cups of your bra, "Fuck, you're perfect." he tells you before lapping one of your nipples between his lips and starting to suck it ravenously, while massaging the other one unceremoniously. You groan as you thread your hands through his hair, pushing his head against your chest and pulling a few strands of his hair as he licks a nipple.

You moan with your eyes closed and your head completely abandoned against the wall. You hear in the distance the elevator bell ringing, some voices saying it's still a half hour before you can get out; it's all muffled.

You feel him fumbling with the zipper of your skirt without leaving your chest, you help him as much as you can, totally lost under those precise touches that send discharges of pure lust throughout your body. He reserves the same care and lascivious caresses for your other breast as you press yourself against him, seeking further pleasure.

The skirt finally falls at your feet, you kick it off and then lower your underwear as well.

"Spread your legs, let me feel how aroused you are," the stranger says, turning his face away from your breasts and sliding one of his huge hands directly there, you are soaked. You groan when he unceremoniously slides two fingers inside you to the hilt, you drop your head against his shoulder as he rhythmically slides his fingers in and out. You see the stars behind your eyelids, it's beautiful.

"Come, little girl, I know you want it, come," he encourages you without stopping touching that magnificent spot inside you, you cling to him as you feel the orgasm sweep over you with great violence. He keeps stroking you until he feels you relax against him.

"You are so good." he tells you by bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking your nectar. Seeing that scene makes you aroused again, you bolt to the man's lips as he wraps you in his muscular arms making you feel so small in comparison, while you're stroking his erection again.

"I want to taste you," you tell him after a while, you are breathless but want to feel his huge erection on your tongue, you see him take a half step back giving you a chance to move and kneel in front of him. His erection towers in front of you and you find yourself moistening your lips, it's massive, you look at it through your eyelashes before tasting it with just the tip of your tongue in a quick bite. You see him close his eyes and breathe heavily through his nostrils, "You ready?" you ask, you see him nod and then you wrap it completely between your lips. You struggle to keep it all in your mouth, in fact you must help yourself with your hand in pumping his erection. His hands are in your hair, urging you to do more. It's wonderful to hear him moan and growl when you do something particularly good for him, you see him with his eyes closed and abandoned against the cockpit wall. His face is tense, and judging by the way he's gripping your hair, you're sure he's close.

"I want to come in your mouth," he moans.

"Come on, then." you encourage him, pushing his arousal away just enough so you can talk before resuming sucking and pumping until you feel streams of his hot seed in your mouth. Fuck, that's wonderful. You lick every drop of that nectar moaning yourself and hearing him moan discomposedly.

You look at him, "How d' you want me?" you ask without looking away from his eyes.

"On your knees, from behind," he replies, and fuck, that's your favorite position. You give him your back by getting on all fours, "I'm clean, but I have no condoms," he warns you.

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean too," you reassure him, "I want you to come inside me," you add looking over your shoulder, you see him pump his erection a couple of times, then finally he lines it up against your intimacy and pushes against you, his erection slowly enters you almost giving you the sensation of opening you in two, it's so good, you feel him touching points inside you never reached until that moment.

Moaning abandoning your head forward breathlessly, you feel his hands at the height of your hips to hold you still, then you feel him rotate his hips a couple of times sending discharges of pure lust into you, and then you feel him moving back and forth, you don't know how much you'll be able to hold on, you've never been so overstimulated as you are at this moment. You feel his balls cackle against your buttocks with increasing force, a sign that he must be close too, as one of his hands descends between your legs, seeking your clit. His finger makes quick, precise, circular movements on that little bundle of nerves making you gasp and see stars. Your moans become more and more choked until you feel again clearly warm liquid of his seed inside you and then only your short breaths to fill the cockpit.

He comes out from inside you pulling away, you sit first and then stand. It was the best fucking you have had in your entire life. You dress in silence, saying nothing to each other. Now reality is back to what it was before, you always late to your first sociolinguistics class and the stranger-- you don't know where he's headed, but you don't care.

Someone tells you that a few minutes and the elevator will start up again.

"Hope to see you again," he says, "Maybe on campus."

"In the elevator, maybe, for a second round," you propose with a lascivious smile buttoning your jacket and hearing the man smile.

"Or maybe in the room at my place," he proposes.

Yes, why not.

The cockpit with a little jolt starts up again, you hope to arrive at least by the end of class, you think as you look at your watch. You look for a moment longer at the man whose name you didn't even ask, nor he yours, then the doors open and you both exit to the fourth floor.

"'m going this way," he says, you nod.

"I'm going that way, I have class. Hope my professor'll understand."

"He'll understand, you'll see," he reassures you.

You exchange one more glance and then he leaves, you see him run a hand through his hair, and then you turn your back on him and walk toward the classroom. This one is already full, but of the mysterious Dr. Miller no sign. The students all look terrified; you, on the other hand, feel relaxed and think that after the incredible morning you've had, nothing can shock you. You open your bag, pick up your book, notebook and pen ready to take notes, when the unbelievable happens: the stranger, the man you just fucked and fucked you, appears in the classroom, you widen your eyes upon seeing him and your mouth almost reaches the floor when you see him reach the desk, roll up his shirt sleeves and turn his gaze toward the class.

"Mornin', I'm Dr. Miller. Your sociolinguistics teacher." he says introducing himself and looking at you students, then his gaze falls on you "I'll be here for the entire second semester, my office door is always open."

Shit, you're screwed.

[transformation4life]

New Year New Ford

New year's Eve, 2023. 11:55pm. You were watching your local channel that had the New York Ball Drop. Like past new year's you were alone in your apartment. All your friends had got invited to parties besides you so here you were. However one of your friends handed you something interesting last you saw them. "I heard that if you blow the candle and make a wish right as midnight hits it'll come true!" Your friend said as he handed you a star candle.

It sounded like superstition but this year was rough for you as you found yourself unsatisfied with your life and your job so hey it can be worth a shot! You remembered that right before you went to watch the countdown you enviously scrolled Instagram to where you followed a concerning amount of bodybuilders. They seemed to have the perfect lives. Big beautiful body, a loving partner, sponsorships, and getting to show off. Just thinking about it makes you a lil' hard. One bodybuilder that you saw while scrolling caught your eye in particular. He looked so perfect... so large...

"If only I looked like him..." You mutter. Then you hear the people cheering on from 10 to 9 then 8 and so on. You look at the counter with the candle and a lighter and then the tv screen. It was a mad dash to light the candle and put it close to your face closing your eyes and speaking your wish. "I wish I was a bodybuilder with big huge muscles!" You blow out the candle right as it hit midnight.

You open your eyes again and find yourself looking the exact same. What a disappointment. Time for bed though you are very tired. You grab your green blanket and settle down on the couch as you snooze. Unbeknownst to you, your life was going to get a whole lot better.

As you slept, your body started to glow as your white pale skin became that of a bodybuilder tan for competitions. Your clothes evaporated from your body leaving you completely in the nude. Your body now started to expand in all directions. Your flat chest filled with meat and become thick pecs. Your arms became thick like trees. Abs popped in, shoulders becoming bigger, back widening. Your legs became thick and juicy like a drumstick. Your hands became calloused and worn and just a bit bigger. Your small pencil dick increase to a girthy 8 inches of a beer can while your adam's apple became more prominent and neck more thick. Your flat ass became large and bounced like a bubble. Your hair was cut into it was a buzzcut as your body physically aged. The transformation was now complete as you continued to rest. snoring in a much deeper tone.

As the morning came you were still fast asleep unaware that you had a completely new body.

You yawn as you awake not yet realizing your muscular body as you scratch your ass. You seem to forget that you were wearing clothes last night as you walk to your bathroom, letting your new dick dangle. You reach the mirror in the bathroom and rub your eyes and that's when you realize. "OH MY FUCKING GOD?!??!?!" You scream. You finally realized your body changed.

It wasn't long until you started to explore your new body, commenting on your new ass and big dick. While you tested out your new body the scenery around your bathroom became bigger and much more luxurious. In fact, Your entire apartment was remade into a much more massive house not that you knew this was happening. You just let your muscles captivate you. You closed your eyes and you put your massive arms to your head as you thought about your new life. As that was happening your bodybuilder tan slowly disappeared and a cross necklace wrapped itself around your neck and some workout shorts covered your member. No underwear though.

You eventually put your arms down as you realize you should probably check your phone to see if it changed in any way so you leave your bathroom completely blissful of the changes to both your house and bathroom. You head to your new bedroom and check your phone. Much to your surprise, there are notifications from many including dating apps. Seems like the new you gets around. You rub your head as you realize the reality of your new life is going to be a doosey.

As you ponder what to do next you feel something happening in your brain. You can feel your brain processing slowing down. Most academic knowledge you ever had being flushed down the metaphorical drain as it was replace with solely the need to bulk your already large body. You space out as this was happening and a little drool came out of your mouth before you snapped back to reality. The only thing on your mind now is to go to the gym and get RIPPED. So you grab the workout gear you suddenly now have and ride in your car to your favorite place in the world.

You arrive at the gym and scent of musk overwhelmed your nose and it felt like home. With it being the new year you see many new people but that doesn't stop your grind. You walk to the gym lockers and your instincts lead you to a locker with the name "Lunsford". You put your bag into the locker and get back to the gym floor. With ease and effort you work out for hours. You always loved that pump. After working out you adjust your sweaty tank and hand to the gym area with full body mirrors.

Once you arrived you immediately stripped into just underwear and socks and flexed. God you looked so good. You loved your body. You loved your life.

A few months later...

Your life has been such a breeze and you were invited to the beach with some bodybuilder friends you made over the months. In a cocky fashion you flex on the beach before stripping into your beach attire.

was only a matter of time until someone wanted a picture or a video of you. With the first person who asks you put on some shades you had in one of your pockets and put them on, only to take them off immediately after and wink at the camera.

"it's going to be a good year!" You say to yourself as you jog to the water with glee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hey everyone! Late new year story for ya! Hope this year brings you good fortune and fun! See you in the next story!

[happeehippie]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his WIFE evie as they go through his football career.

*face claim is yasmin quintana*

series masterlist.

liked by bengals, joeyb_9, and 983,729 others…

evie: honeymoon avenue.

view all 4,738 comments…

user: i love you guys together!

> evie: 💗💗

user: am i the only one that doesn’t like her?

> millyg: it’s the jealousy in you.

> user: i don’t see how anyone can’t like her, she’s so nice!

user: yikes

joeyb_9: no complaints, probably the best avenue out there.

> evie: thanks for your input, i totally agree.

> millyg: gtfo you guys 🤣

joeyb_9

liked by evie, lahjay10_, and 902,519 others

joeyb_9: we will send a post card.

view all 5,739 comments…

user: nooooo that’s two times in a row he’s posted ev

> user: they are literally married now, she’s not going anywhere.

user: in his *husband* era

user: i can’t stomach this

millyg: still mad i got left at home.

> user: i don’t like them together, im not jealous or anything something just feels off.

> user: i think that means your jealous.

evie: the views were 10/10

> joeyb_9: i was only looking at you.

> lahjay10_: 🧀🧀🧀

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 810,826 others

evie: some small things…🤍

view all 3,738 comments…

user: i’m SO single

user: she doesn’t have to rub it in

user: NOT THE PRETTY GIRL. ladies he is everything..

user: if he wanted to he would

millyg: not joes failed cursive attempt

> evie: it wasn’t TERRIBLE 🤣

user: being with joe burrow is this girls whole personality

joeyb_9: the prettiest pretty girl.

> evie: 😭💗

user: so when are we expecting the divorce?

user: take notes fellas

user: joe and ev being so taylor coded makes me sick

> evie: swifties are superior, even if jb likes to pretend he isn’t one.

joeyb_9

liked by obj, evie, and 1,785,002 others

joeyb_9: had the basketball versus football convo too many times

view all 2,372 comments…

user: low key forgot you weren’t just some guy from cincinnati

> evie: THE guy from cincinnati

obj: Da boyyyyyyyy

user: tough. basketball tho

> evie: wrong answer. 😭

user: Joey B is A list now

evie: it was so nice of you to take photos with a few fans today.

> joeyb_9: 😎

> user: ev is coming for those opps

user: not him hanging with obj

user: such a weeb

evie

liked by millyg, joeyb_9, and 1,037,927 others

evie: went to something called a white party?

view all 2,801 comments…

user: you win

user: he actually took you with him?

> evie: i actually got invited to come with him.

> user: standing on business.

user: YOU MISSED TAYLOR FOR THIS?????

> evie: marriage is about sacrifice.

joeyb_9: 🥵🥵🥵

user: this is everything

user: that joe pic is my new background thanks

> evie: charity work is my passion.

user: i keep coming back to look at this post

user: second pic sent me into cardiac arrest.

> evie: you should’ve seen it in person.

joeyb_9

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 710,991 others

joeyb_9: “It’s time to go mobile.”

view all 3,729 comments…

user: YESSIR

lahjay10_: My step brother

> evie: hell yeah

user: do you want my mobile phone number

> evie: he doesn’t have a mobile phone.

> user: you are so funny mrs. burrow. 🤣💀

> user: why are you always so rude?

> user: she isn’t rude, but she’s always going to let us know that’s her man. don’t play like you wouldn’t do the same thing if random girls were coming at your bf with this kind of shit.

> user: i agree, she isn’t being rude but she’s never really let people show blatant disrespect for their relationship. even when they were in college.

tylerboyd: levels

> evie: BIG LEVELS

evie: you’re so hot. there is said it.

joeyb_9: 🪞

user: return of shiesty

user: YEAH BABYYYY

evie

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 810,003 others

evie: volume 4. 🤍🧡🖤

view all 2,761 comments…

user: you’re special

user: do you ever get sick of having to pretend to be interested in football?

> evie: never pretending.

user: he needs a tall blonde that has a brain.

> evie: my masters in marketing is offended.

user: i’m so excited to see the team smash it this year!

joeyb_9: very big fan of this.

> evie: your sunnies really tie it together.

> user: not you sharing sunnies. 😭

user: i love ev truly, but im also jealous of her.

> evie: i’m not sure what to say here. 🤣💗

joeyb_9

liked by evie, bengals, and 789,524 others

joeyb_9: Mask off.

view all 2,751 comments…

user: clothes off

> evie: the clothes will stay on. (for now) 🤪

user: Burrow is back!

user: solid W

evie: put the mask back on, i can’t think straight.

> joeyb_9: keep it on all night?

> user: i wish i could unsee this

> user: joe. please. this has to stop.

user: i’ll never quit you.

evie’s instagram stories:

a/n: hiiii. i’m going to finish this series up in the next post so i can work on some of the other requests i have. if you guys are interested in me continuing it once the new season starts let me know and i’ll see what i can do. thanks for all the love on this, you guys rock. and as always im taking request so if you have an idea i’d love to hear it.

[theabigailthorn]

Surely with how popular you are you would have had a few cancelling attempts, but you're drama free. How? I thought you'd be target number 1 with TERFs.

So the thing is, people on the internet have and do try to wreck my life! But it's true that I get less of it than a lot of other women, and I often ask myself (and them) this same question. I think it comes down to a few factors. In no particular order:

I'm white and thin

I don't post selfies very often

The Philosophy Tube Jutsu: I never use my platform to say anything bad about individuals, so I don't make enemies

I'm British

I don't put my pronouns or the word 'trans' in my bio. I mention it if it it's relevant but to a casual troll looking for someone to go after there are more obvious targets

My brand: in terms of online content, my brand is 'Educational and Compassionate.' I try to be even-handed and listen to all sides and never be angry, and people are maybe a bit reluctant to get mad at someone who does that? In terms of acting, my brand right now is 'I'm Trying Hard and I'm On My Way Up!' which I guess people like?

I have a posh accent

I don't make online content about video games

I'm pretty enough that men like looking at me but not so hot it makes them angry

I transitioned in private before I came out publicly. I knew that when I did I'd get a lot of backlash, so I pre-emptively muted LOADS of words in my comments section and wove a kind of digital safety net

I'm so busy that I often miss whatever the discourse du jour is and don't get involved. As a wise woman once said, 'Do Not Tweet.'

I deliberately dress and present myself as 'classy' in public-facing stuff

Most of my content is scripted, so by default it attracts people who like to sit down and listen

Philosophy Tube is literally all about critical thinking and not taking things at face value. So if a typical Philosophy Tube Subscriber sees a post that says 'I saw Abigail Thorn kicking a puppy down the street!' they're more likely to stop and think, 'What's the evidence for this?' This means that when there are hate campaigns and lies spread about me (and there are, from time to time) my core audience sees through it and sticks around

I have very good mods! Big shout out to all the lovely people on r/philosophytube and all the people who moderate my livestream chats!

I have a social media manager who can look out for hate and pre-emptively guard against it

I don't hitch my brand to other people. I sometimes do little collabs or appear at events with other creators but for the most part I fly solo. That means if another creator blows up or posts something awful I minimise my chances of cancellation-by-association. I'm friends with lots of creators but for the most part I keep it behind the scenes (Learned this one the hard way!)

I'm not a sex worker. Those people get hate like you wouldn't believe - the sex workers I know are the toughest folks I've ever met!

I'm not very fun to bully! I do get death threats and hate campaigns and people make fake porn of me and libel me and all that stuff - literally every day - I just never talk about it publicly so trolls don't get the satisfaction of seeing me get upset. I just mute and block and move on silently. When I have to talk to a lawyer or the police about someone causing a problem, I handle it behind the scenes

Platform size. When TERFs in British media go after someone they tend to pick on people smaller than them, cause they're bullies.

I built my platform slowly, so I've had time to adjust and get used to how it impacts my life

People have tried to cancel me in the past and it's blown up in their faces, e.g. the Trump Transition Tweet Incident and the B*ck A*gel Affair.

To be absolutely clear, a LOT of this is luck and privilege. I'm not trying to blame the victims of online harassment: yes, some of these factors are things I choose to do but not everyone is able to make those choices. It's also the unwinnable game of respectability politics: yes I might get less hate because of the way I dress or whatever, but fundamentally that won't protect me if I get arrested and sent to a men's prison. These things aren't a substitute for a more just distribution of power. There's also this final possible factor:

It just hasn't happened yet.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Invisible Angsty Ending

this post contains dark and triggering content. please read with caution.

here is the link to invisible 1

https://www.tumblr.com/sidesplashofsainz/747013673029189632/hiya-could-you-write-something-with-charles-x?source=share

you guys are free to request as much fluff as y’all’s want after this post 🫶🏻

6.1K characters 1.4K words🎀

You had the worst sleep of your life that night, head-pounding, mind-racing thoughts running wild. It all fell down. 

Often you struggled with your mental health, always having Charles with you to guide you out of the shady corners of your mind, but alas, this time Charles wasn’t there to help you; he didn’t even notice how badly you were crumbling right before his very own eyes. 

The worst part about fighting with Charles would be the morning after, when you wake up all foggy, forgetting about the issues of the night before believing that everything is normal. Anticipating your husband’s soft yet scratchy kisses, his sleepy voice, messy hair, and hour-long cuddles.

Unfortunately, by the time you awoke, your husband had already left, not even bothering to leave you a note or a text explaining his whereabouts.

This resulted in you spiraling out of control; your thoughts were getting too much for your head to contain, and your mind was replaying everything that you could have possibly done wrong to cause Charles to act this way.

You replayed how mad he looked in the car, how he didn’t even kiss you goodnight, how he didn’t compliment your dress that you specifically wore for him, and how he left you alone in the crowded room. You thought about how maybe you just weren’t pretty enough for him anymore, how your legs were too big, how you had scars on your body due to years of self-harm, and how you didn’t look like the other drivers girlfriends. Maybe that’s why your husband was mad at you??. 

You knew what you were doing was destructive and that you would simply regret it as soon as you opened your social media accounts, looking at all the nasty comments that people left about how you “were a waste of space” and how “if I were Charles, I would simply cheat on you because you look like a bitch." There were hundreds of thousands of messages saying you were the reason that Charles was failing at Ferrari. It really hurt reading everything, but what hurt even more was that your husband’s actions made you believe that 

Everything was your fault. 

Everything that happened over the last two days made you pick up your hidden stash of sharp blades, something you’d hidden from Charles, never mentioning it to him, as you never thought that you’d need to use it. 

You started slashing hard and quickly feeling the emotion drip out of you alongside the blood that was slowly pooling and staining the white tiles that you so happily had picked out. 

Cold, oh, so very cold. If there was one word that could be used to describe you in that very moment, it was cold. You didn’t know if it was the bathroom tiles that made you feel cold or if it was the deep gash that took all the heat away from your body. All you knew was that you were very cold. 

Charles was upset; he felt betrayed by your words. It felt like a knife to his chest, making him feel useless. He knew that Ferrari was not where it used to be, but he really wanted to bring the team back to life. In his rage, he failed to realize that he had left you alone to find your own way back to the car. He didn’t know why he was being such a prick; he just wanted you to feel what he was feeling—deep pain and hurt.

The car ride was uncomfortable, to say the least. Charles’s eyes were everywhere except on his wife. He failed to see how scared she looked or how small she felt next to him. Charles had always promised to make her feel safe and comfortable with him; if Charles could see this one, he’d probably wack him in the dick. 

When they finally reached home, Charles didn’t bother to walk up with her; he went straight down to get a glass of scotch. He didn’t want to get into an argument with her; he simply wasn’t interested. 

It was half past midnight when he wandered into his bedroom. He walked past his wife’s slightly shaking figure. He registered her red eyes, and he had to restrain himself from holding her close to him and letting her fall apart in his arms. 

He simply looked at her and turned around to stare at the ceiling, feeling foreign to him. 

He woke up a lot earlier than he normally did, feeling bitter and tired. He wanted to turn around and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to plaster your face with kisses and make sure that there were no dark clouds looming over your precious little head. 

He didn’t do anything; he just woke up and left for a meeting with Ferrari. Little did he know that the aftermath of his actions would be catastrophic. 

When Charles got back, he felt weird, as if he had a ton of bricks on his chest. The house was quite quiet, there wasn’t any noise stating that you were up, and the radio was off, which was unusual for him since you loved listening to music, especially when he was out. 

He felt his heart beating faster than it ever had, something in him holding him back from opening the bathroom door, almost as if his mind knew that after what he saw in the bathroom, he would never be the same. 

The door didn’t open immediately; there was something heavy blocking the entrance. It took Charles some strength to open up the door. What he saw inside would haunt him until his last breath. 

His y/n, his wife, the love of his life, was lying there cold to the touch, her lips blue, with a deep gash on her wrist. 

She was dead. She had killed herself. She had left Charles forever. She would never be coming back. 

No more morning kisses. No more cuddles. No more comforting words after shit races. No more soft smiles. No more blushing cheeks after compliments from him. No more y/n 

Charles was never the same after that day. The day he buried his wife was the day he buried himself. He never got to apologize to her. He never got to tell her that he accepted Horner's offer. He never got to say that he loved her. He never got to kiss her rosy lips. 

Her last words to him still haunted him 30 years after she passed away. “Prick,” he remembered her tearful face as she said those final words to him. 

Y/N felt invisible after they had argued; now she truly was invisible. Charles had broken his promise to make her feel safe and comfortable around him, so she broke her own promise just so that they would be even. 

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I got to be so real I kind of have mixed feelings about this post, and I'm not as mad rereading it as I was the first time I read it.

On one hand, I kind of agree that doing fucked up things to a fictional character doesn't necessarily mean that you're bad.

If I write a story in which a child is put to death, I'm not suddenly in favor of children dying. The person who wrote "the lottery" isn't in favor of people being stoned to death just because they wrote about it. I write stories all the time where characters are subject to homophobia or racism or general bigotry and I'm obviously not in favor of those things. However, there's a reason some stories that deal with the same subject matter are better received than others. There's a reason that even though "Avatar: the last Airbender" was written by two white men it's not called racist like some other works by white creators that handle POC.

I feel like the idea that how you approach fiction and fictional characters says absolutely nothing about you is insane.

If you watch a piece of media and then you go to write fanfiction about the media and you give all the white characters a good, happy ending but give all of the black characters sad ones where they're beaten to death, I absolutely think that says something about you! If you read/watch media with a fictional child and immediately want to write a story in which that child is raped by one of their parents, I absolutely think that says something about you and your character! The characters might be fictional, but you are not. Your choices do not exist in a vacuum. Why do you want to produce and see media where people of color end up unhappy and/or dead? Why do you want to write a lot of non-con? why do you want to see two siblings fuck?

Even though you didn't do anything to anybody in real life, I have to side eye why you're obsessed with seeing and writing that type of content. If you're writing a rape scene just because you like it (you don't comment on it or anything. In fact, it hardly ever comes up again) then yea, I do think you're probably a bit fucked up.

A white woman who writes all of her black male characters as "big" and "manly" and "dangerous" and "dominant" is absolutely revealing something about herself through her fiction! Maybe the fake black guy isn't being objectified since he's not real, but you can't seriously tell me that the white woman who wrote him has not revealed anything about how she views black men lmao. You can't tell me you'd seriously believe her when she says she's not racist.

I mean this site in particular talks all the time about the way certain groups are portrayed by certain authors. This site will be the first to cancel authors who write marginalized people in an unsavory light. If you think the fiction you consume doesn't matter, then you can never say anything about representation mattering ever again. A black child who only ever sees white characters cannot be influenced by that because fiction doesn't matter, right? You can't cancel an author for being racist. So what if all of their characters of color are portrayed as violent and evil? If what you write doesn't say anything about you, then that author is not racist at all!

I mean, seriously. How many authors have been canceled because they wrote black characters in a way that left the viewers with a bad taste in their mouths? How you choose to treat fictional characters absolutely says something about you!

I understand that fiction is how a lot of people deal with stuff. If something bad happened to you when you were a kid, you might want to see your favorite character go through that and overcome it, but the thing is: I feel like there's a line. I feel like too many of you use past trauma to justify what has honestly just become a paraphilia. Some of you don't read media about SA because you were SA'd and are trying to deal with it; you read it because you have a 'kink' for it. Too many of you hide under "healing" when you genuinely just get off on seeing fucked up things happen to characters. It's no secret that people who have experienced trauma sometimes go on to become abusive and perverse themselves.

The things that you enjoy and dedicate time to absolutely say something about you! Whether you think it says something good or bad doesn't matter, but the idea that it just exists in a vacuum and says absolutely nothing about your character and who you are as a person is quite frankly insane!

Even if you're writing it because you're trying to deal with trauma that happened to you or you're trying to create a safe space for people who have been through fucked up stuff, that says something about your character and who you are as a person. The stories you dedicate your time to reading and writing absolutely reveal who you are. We talk endlessly about the misogyny of male writers in the past and present. If posts like the one linked were true, then it wouldn't matter if a man spent all day writing stories where every single female character of his is treated like shit and assaulted. Media would be entirely unable to be criticized because the fictional characters aren't real and thus how you treat them says nothing. If a man with three daughters wrote a story where a fictional father SA'd all three of his children, that wouldn't be cause for concern at all? It'd say absolutely nothing about him? You wouldn't side eye him? You wouldn't be concerned if a primary school teacher spent all day writing stories where children are molested? You would send your child to a school with a teacher like that and be completely and utterly okay because "the fiction you write and consume says nothing"?

Of course there is nuance, but I don't like the way this post seems to absolve anyone into fucked up fictional stuff of guilt. No, reading and writing fucked up stuff does not *automatically* make you bad, but if you're doing it uncritically and because you get off on it, I'm not gonna pretend that's irrelevant to who you are as a person.

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Yn tells Lewis she's dating Mick

― Summary: Yn and Mick finally broke the friendship barrier and started something else. It's time Yn tells her brother what's going on between her and his teammate. ― Word count: 1k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: curse words; mention of anxiety; typos - not proofread.

⁕ see my masterlist | my taglist | KOMH Masterlist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment

There was a knock at Lewis' hotel door and he rushed to open it, confusion written on his face since nobody told him someone would show up. The second he opened the big wooden door he smiled, though it only lasted for the blink of an eye because he quickly gathered how Yn seemed apprehensive.

His sister was wearing one of his Merc white shirts paired with sweatpants and slippers. Her curls were up in her head messily gathered together by a colorful hair tie.

"Hey, bitsy, what's up?" he asked while opening the door wider for her to get inside. Yn did exactly that, running to one of the big armchairs in the room and folding herself there like a cat would.

"How would you feel if I told you I'm dating someone?" She asked before Lewis could say anything else. That was his sister, she would rush through things when nervous, too many expectations would make her feel sick and Yn hated feeling sick, so it was normal for her to just blurt her questions or confessions whenever something important was on the line, just like she was doing at the moment.

Lewis arched his brows, "Ok, I guess, as long as you're happy. But do you think you're ready for a new relationship?" he asked genuinely interested in her answer.

"I don't know, but I really like him, Lew. And I always wanna be around him, it's just...I- mhm I've never felt like this before." She confessed, eyes cast down. It wasn't that Yn was afraid of Lewis judging her because he would never, but he was her older brother and she held his opinion on the highest space. She was just afraid to let him down.

"I'm happy for you guys, then. Is Mick going to tell me too or-"

"Wait! How'd you know it's Mick?" Yn eyed Lewis up and down and he gave her one of his signature laughs.

"You think you're folling people? Be for real, Yn. Everyone knows or suspects. And even if you weren't obvious, I'm your older brother, I know you. I knew you were interested in him from day one didn't I?"

Yn huffed, rolled her eyes, got up, and then crashed on the oldest Hamilton hugging him.

"Thank you. I was a bit taken aback, afraid you were gonna be mad because I kind of promised to stay away."

"I knew if you truly liked him you wouldn't be able to stay away, bitsy."

She breathed in his scent and took a step back. Lewis caught a single tear on her cheek and held her face with both of his hands.

"You're safe with me. Spill it," his gentle tone made yet another tear roll down, and Yn chuckled holding back a sob.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was a weak whisper, but the British heard her perfectly. "I think things may be happening too fast, and I want them to go like this, but I'm also scared of all the attention we're getting. I mean, everyone is talking about us, and we haven't even started dating officially. I'm scared of how this can go and I don't want you to be caught in the crossfire, Lew. The media is always looking for things to point out when you're the subject and I-"

"Hey, breathe." Lewis held her face tighter as if by doing so he was holding her together too. Yn closed her eyes, breathed in and out following his lead, and then they sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about me. I'm the oldest. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of humor in his comment and Yn chuckled.

"I know, but-"

"No, Bitsy. No buts. Stop worrying about me. I'm happy you're with Mick. If I had to choose a guy from the Grid it would most likely be him. I've seen the way he treats you and how careful he is with you. He's a good guy. Please, don't let your anxiety get in the way. People will talk about us it doesn't matter if we do things right or wrong, at the end of the day, you do what you gotta do to be happy, you hear me?"

Yn nodded, tears flowing down her face again. "Thank you, Lew."

"You don't have to thank me, Yn. I always going to have your back. Now, where's your phone, I wanna talk to your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes chuckling, "he's not my boyfriend...we haven't discussed titles yet."

"You two are so oblivious," Lewis rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and unlocked Yn's phone, "if you change your password to his birthday instead of mine, I will be hurt," he tried to lighten the mood again, already searching through her contacts for the Schumacher's name.

"Hey, Mick...Can you come to my room real quick? I gotta talk to you...Yeah, my sister is crying here, and...yeah...yeah...I'm waiting."

"What the heck, Lewis?!" Yn screeched and Lewis just laughed.

It was barely a minute after and there were frantic knocks at the door. Lewis got up to answer and Yn buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by whatever prank her brother wanted to throw.

When Mick got inside he had his cheeks flushed from using the stairs and eyes wide, "what happened?" he asked and Lewis crossed his arms trying to hold back his laughter.

"Nothing, Mick. I told him about us and he wanted to prank you or embarrass us together, I dunno," Yn got up from the bed and she smiled at his reluctant face. His eyes were traveling between the siblings, but his body was turned in Yn's direction.

"Well, there goes my older brother's fun," the Hamilton sighed, and Yn rolled her eyes yet again that night, walking to Mick and hugging him. "Welcome to the family, Schumacher," Lewis smiled at the blonde.

"I'm sorry to inform you that it can get crazier than this." Yn adverted.

"I won't mind it if it means I got you," he whispered and she smiled.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: It's been forever since I last updated it, but I'm gonna start working on it, I promiseeee <3 we're having this series finished in no time! I hope you guys liked this extra, let me know your thoughts by leaving a comment/ask and reblogging *mwah*.

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[yuurei20]

(This was originally an ask received through Twitter)

"Back in GloMas (on JP), I think I remember there being a lot of madness surrounding Idia being close to Yuu. I think it’s because he referred to them as ‘Yuu’ rather than ‘Yuu-shi’, but I still don’t quite get it??"

Yes! Honorifics as a whole have already discussed more in-depth here, but Idia does drop his honorific for the prefect once in Glorious Masquerade.

Quick overview for those who may not know: when you don’t use an honorific with someone (-chan / -kun / -sama / etc), this is called yobisute (呼び捨て), written with the kanji for “to call” and “to throw away,” and the word might just not exist in English. It means “to refer to someone without an honorific."

Twst uses honorifics (and yobisute) to track the evolving relationships between the characters.

Deuce, for example, has a line about how he used to yobisute his teachers (i.e. he refused to add “-sensei” to their names) in middle school. To compensate for his past rudeness, Deuce now refers to every single upperclassman by “lastname-senpai.”

There is even a cute scene during New Year’s where Deuce greets Jamil by calling him Viper-senpai, but after Jamil feeds him an egg salad sandwich he changes—just once—to Jamil-senpai.

Epel is another character whose use of honorifics is significant: Epel is under order from Vil to always use honorifics with everyone. During Book 5 we see him using “-kun” with Deuce, up until Deuce refuses to let Epel fight the bullies trying to steal their blastcycle.

Deuce says that he is the one who took Epel out of the school and so he will be taking responsibility for his actions, and we get Epel’s first “Deuce” yobisute.

Cater might be the character who weaponizes honorifics the most.

He seems to be using honorifics as an over-familiarity-buffer-zone, as he is actively trying to avoid becoming too close to those around him (re: “Cay-Cay doesn’t really do long-term friends or found family").

There is one exception to Cater’s rule of honorifics: Trey.

During Book 1 Cater refers to him as “Trey-kun” for the majority of the story, until Riddle’s overblot makes things serious enough for him to drop it and call him “Trey” (even during these scenes, however, he keeps his honorifics for others).

The novel even comments on this directly, saying, "Usually, Cater does not ever yobisute anyone. When he calls to Trey, he always adds ‘kun’ to his name. This is probably one of his skills as a good-natured person. When Cater uses Trey’s name like this, it is only when he is really serious. Only when it is important."

This is all to say that, depending upon the character, yobisute can be a huge deal. It isn’t a black-and-white rule, of course—it varies by each character and their personality.

Kalim, for example, refers to everyone with yobisute, possibly because his status back home meant that he was simply never taught to defer to anyone, and/or because he legitimately considers himself to be close, personal friends with everyone he meets.

Idia is one of those characters like Cater and Deuce for whom yobisute is a big deal. There is exactly one person he refers to without any form of honorific, and that person is Ortho. Much like how he uses his tablet to avoid talking to people face-to-face, he is possibly, intentionally keeping up an over-familiarity-wall like Cater. 

The English-language adaptation has translated his honorific of “-shi” as “Mr.,” but it’s actually gender-neutral, which may be why the English-language game’s continuity is so inconsistent, and why the moment of Idia referring to the prefect without an honorific did not make it to EN: while the honorific disappears and reappears in English, he actually uses it to refer to the prefect in Book 6, and it is otherwise in 100% of all of Idia’s dialogue in the original game.

With one exception: Glorious Masquerade.

This is why JP lost its collective mind when it happened (the fan-art is delightful, like this short comic of the characters pointing at Idia and chanting "yobisute"), because it was something Idia had never done before and has never done again, and it was with the prefect!

(This was revealed to be a proof-reading error that was corrected in the 2023 re-release, with "-shi" added to the prefect's name in Idia's dialogue.)

Yobisute is usually very significant in the game, like during Book 6 where Azul, who uses the “-san” honorific with literally everyone except Jade and Floyd, uses yobisute with Riddle when he is in danger, and when Riddle uses it with Leona just before his overblot in Book 2.

But for Idia and the prefect, it was just a proofreading error! :>