#because that's not where her light was pointed

[thewoollyviking]

Rose hated herself enough that if Steven told her every horrible thing White said about her to her face, told her she deserved to face all that pain because of the people she hurt, she would accept it.

I agree she wouldn’t have wanted her loved ones to mourn her and anguish over her loss. But the way Rose is treated later in the show, where the people she loved are genuinely uncomfortable whenever they’re reminded of her because their image of her is stained by her past mistakes and they can’t even bring themselves to mention her in a positive light without worrying that they’re making excuses for her?

Having that juxtaposed to the Diamonds not feeling a shred of guilt over their abuse of Rose or over the fact that she really is gone for good and having the utter fucking gal to beg Steven to come take her place in their family is disgusting.

The Diamonds didn’t learn shit.

The death of Rose is like an annoying inconvenience to them now.

Rose will never get any closure for the pain the Diamonds caused her, for the pain she caused Bismuth and Pearl. And that’s sad. Because the whole point of the show was that she always could do the right thing. She could always be better. But she never believed that. Not because she was too lazy or selfish, it’s because she was literally. Fucking. Raised to think that about herself.

And it was the Diamonds who raised her to think that way.

She will never be able to heal. So why should the Diamonds ever get to?

I want to do unto them what Kratos did to Poseidon in God of War 3. I want them to wake up to the most gorgeous sunrise on Homeworld every day and never be able to even enjoy it because their first thought would be “Rose (not Pink, Rose. The name she chose for herself) would have loved to see this… it’s our fault she’s not here to enjoy this moment.”

I’m saying this as someone who did grow up with people like the Diamonds. They know what they are, and they know what they’re doing. And they will never be sorry for the pain they cause.

You can’t always use the carrot with those people. Sometimes you need to break out the fucking stick.

Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.

Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.

And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:

They all fall to their deaths.

Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.

It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff. (edit: yes, cliff then hyenas. But cliff first. Lol.)

Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took a step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.

Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.

It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.

[motorsportbarbie13]

Aftermath - Chapter 3

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make nothing into something for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). lando is abusive, full stop but like many survivors of abuse, it takes reader a bit to claw herself out of this. as a survivor of abuse myself, I am doing my best to give this story line the most respect and care that i can. please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering.i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way. pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader word count: 4.9k

(Extra special shout out to @nitaekook for beta reading and holding my hand through this fic 😂❤️)

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Master List

“Where do you want these plates to go, my dear?” Jade asks from across the kitchen. 

You glance up at her from your spot on the brand new couch that was just delivered to the new apartment that morning. You’re sitting cross legged unpacking a box of the few things that you had brought over from the old apartment. In the kitchen, your best friend Jade (who is also Arthur’s girlfriend of about a year thanks to your meddling) stands holding up one of the new plates that you bought with her yesterday. 

“Wherever there’s room.” You say with a shrug, not really caring where the plates go because everything feels weird.

The apartment is pristine with its gorgeous hardwood flooring that Charles had refinished before you moved in, floor to ceiling windows that face out towards the water, and that new house smell that is totally unfamiliar and a little unnerving. You should be happy, shouldn’t you? Finally being free of the stifling apartment that you had shared with Lando should fill you with so much optimism and a sense of relief, shouldn’t it? But that’s not the case. Not even close. You’re scared and nervous and just the thought of deciding where those plates should go seems like the heaviest question you've ever been asked.

 Simply picking out the plates yesterday with Jade had been an ordeal and you had needed to take several moments to yourself while shopping. You liked your old plates that you had bought with Lando the week you moved in with him but at the same time, the thought of taking those to your new apartment was more painful than leaving them behind.

Jade must notice your anxiety because as soon as she finishes putting the plates and bowls in whatever cabinet that suits her fancy, she comes over to sit next to you on the couch. When she wraps her arm around your shoulders you melt into her in a desperate attempt to stop a fresh flood of tears from falling. It seems as if all you’ve done since leaving the old apartment was cry and if you’re not crying, you’re barely fighting off an incoming panic attack and jumping with every ding of your phone. 

“What’s going on, my love?” Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to an injured animal that she doesn’t want to spook. It makes you feel pathetic, helpless, and angry for how much Lando has damaged you when he should have been loving you. 

You’ve known Jade for years now and she’s always been one of your closest friends. It was Jade that had been the first of your friend group to pull you aside almost a year ago to ask you if you were truly happy with Lando. She had seen the light dim in your eyes as your relationship with him progressed and watching you lose your spark had scared her. When you had told her the morning after your art show last month that you had finally decided to leave Lando, it had been so hard for her to tamp down her excitement that you had finally worked up the courage to leave him. 

“I should be happy, right?” You ask, voice cracking a bit with the heavy weight of what closing the door on the apartment for the very last time had done to you that morning. “I mean, I know I’ve been miserable for…” You scoff, “a really long time so shouldn’t I feel something other than heartbreakingly sad?” 

Jade tips her head so it rests on your shoulder, a humming sound playing at the back of her throat. “You’ve been with him for a long time, of course you’re going to be heartbroken. Youu’re doing the right thing though, I promise you. He couldn’t even stop playing that stupid video game long enough to support you last month!” 

You nod, memory flickering back to the fight in the hallway in front of Max. You hadn’t heard much from him in the weeks since that night aside from a few texts here and there and you had expected that. He probably was mortified at how you had behaved, embarrassed for you that you had allowed yourself to be treated that way in front him.

You wouldn’t have blamed him if he thought you were a weak little girl who deserved the treatment Lando doled out to you. It was the only way you could rationalize his silence. Seeing how far you’d fallen, how much you’d changed, had obviously had an effect on Max and he had decided he’d seen enough. It didn’t surprise you and you didn’t blame him. Jade was one of your only remaining friends and losing yet another person you trusted and valued in your life was just another thing Lando had taken from you. 

“I’m just so glad you finally are taking your power back, love. I know it feels all wrong right now but when you go from the chaos that you’ve been living in for so long, I’m sure the calm of this apartment feels wrong. You’ll get used to it. It might take some time but you’ll get used to it.” 

Your head swivels around to look your best friend and you search her face for any sign of her lying to you. You desperately want to believe she’s right, that you’re making the right choice. You know you are, deep down in your soul, but you’ve been with Lando for so long and have spent so many nights listening to him rant and rave about how he’s the only one who could ever deal with your dramatics that you wonder if Jade is wrong and Lando is the one who’s been right all along. You don’t voice the doubts though, knowing that those kinds of things are something that you should probably keep to yourself. So instead of voicing all of the fears that are bouncing around in your chest, making it feel heavy and tight with the pressure of doing something that absolutely terrifies you, you just nod and lean further into Jade’s shoulder.

 “I know.” You whisper, staring out over the open living room that is littered with small boxes and suitcases. 

With the help of your brothers and Jade, you had started moving your things out slowly while Lando had been otherwise distracted. Just a small box of clothes and trinkets here and there, over the last month while Charles had the apartment renovated and cleaned. When it was finally ready last week, you had begun looking for furniture and making final plans. 

The timing had worked out perfectly, with the apartment finally being finished perfectly aligning with a weeklong trip Lando had planned to go to Woking to spend time in the sim at the MTC. He rarely bothered you during these working trips, hell he barely bothered you during any of this trips, but his work trips were different, so you knew you’d have a solid week to get everything that mattered to you out of the apartment before he would be any wiser. 

“He’s going to be so mad when he comes home and my things are gone.” You murmur, staring down at your phone which hadn’t received so much as a text message from him in almost 48 hours. 

You hadn’t bothered telling Lando you were leaving, that you were done with him. You shied away form confrontation on even the best of days so telling the man that you’d spent the last three years building a life together that you were leaving him was terrifying. When you had started moving small boxes out while Lando was still in town, you had half expected him to notice but that had never been a problem. He hadn’t even noticed you leaving on several occasions with boxes of your books or suitcases of clothes. 

A larger part of you had another reason for not telling him, though. You knew that if you told him before you were fully moved out he’d try to get you to stay. He’d try to convince you that things would get better, that this time would be different. All the things that he’s said before when you spent the night crying over his neglect. And you knew you’d fall for it. You knew you’d go running back to him if you didn’t get out before he found out. Lando was persistent and an expert manipulator, you knew that and you still fell for it over and over again so this time you were trying to give yourself the chance to put yourself first and not fall back into his trap. 

“He’s going to learn his lesson when he comes home and finds that you’re finally moving on.” Jade says, tone firm but still gentle. She knows what it’s like to be in a relationship like you have with Lando and when you had called her that morning last month to tell her you were finally leaving him, she had decided she was going to make sure she’d do everything in her power to keep you from going back to him. Getting you unpacked and settled in your new apartment was a huge step forward, one Jade hadn’t been sure you would end up following through with. 

You nod, hoping she’s right but you have a feeling deep in your gut that when Lando gets back into town tomorrow morning he’s not going to see it that way. He’s going to be angry and he’s going to try to get you to come back home to him. 

Looking around your new apartment though, you feel something settle in your bones that you haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s a feeling of attachment to this place. Like if you’re careful and thoughtful, this little apartment tucked away in one of the most exclusive buildings in Monaco could be the best opportunity you have for getting your life back on track. You could heal here, you can feel that in the way the sunlight spills through the windows in the living room, in the way your anxiety allows you to breathe when you stand in the kitchen surrounded by things that you bought yourself, and in in the way you feel when you settle yourself on your brand new bed that will have never shared an intimate moment between you and Lando. Those memories have all been left behind and this new apartment seems like the perfect place for a new beginning. 

As Jade comforts you on your couch, your brother is across town arriving at the Monaco Sports Club where he has a game of padel scheduled with Max that afternoon. He had offered to cancel on him this morning when you spoke to him on the phone, saying that your first full day in the apartment was more important than any padel game, but you had insisted that he keep his game. You had wanted a bit of space to breathe from your brothers, who you knew meant very well and you were very grateful for but sometimes, the three men got to be a little suffocating. So, against his better judgement, Charles had skipped coming over that afternoon in favor of hanging out with Max. 

Max hasn’t stopped thinking about that night last month when he witnessed Lando being needlessly cruel to you. He had every intention of calling Charles that night, had every intention of telling him how the British driver was actually treating you but something had stopped him. He had needed a little more time to process everything that he saw. Max knew that Lando could be an asshole but he never could have guessed that he would have treated you the way he did that night he brought you back to the apartment. It had shaken him and it had taken him a bit to figure out exactly how to approach it with Charles because he knew if Charles really knew how Lando had been treating you, Lando might not make it to the next race alive. Because while everyone knew the relationship was toxic and Lando wasn’t a good boyfriend, no one really realized just how bad it had gotten until Max saw behind the curtain that night of the art show. 

When Max had invited Charles to play padel today, he had finally decided to tell him what had gone down that night. It had taken so long because Max kept waffling between ‘this is none of my business’ and ‘she’s everything’ but when he spotted Charles walking through the padel courts towards him, Max was surprised at how happy Charles looked. 

“You look happy.” Max observes before giving his friend a hug. 

“Oh, it is a very good day, mon ami.” Charles is practically glowing as he smiles over at his long time friend. 

Max lifts a brow, it’s been a while since he’s seen Charles look this optimistic and he wonders if it has something to do with you. 

As if Charles reads his mind, he continues, “We finally got the apartment finished and as of this morning, she’s fully left that piece of garbage.” A smug smile plays at the corner of the Ferrari driver’s mouth. 

The relief that washes over Max is surprising. He hadn’t realized how truly worried he was for your well being until that moment. The guilt that sets in though has his chest aching. How could he have gone so long without saying something to someone about what he had seen that night? Max carefully weighs his decision that he had been so set on just moments before. If you’ve already left Lando and are settling into your apartment, does Charles really need to know what happened that night? It would only cause more drama and Max knew that more drama and anxiety was the last thing you needed. 

In a split second decision that he knows could come back to haunt him, Max decides to keep quiet for now. 

“That is the best thing I’ve heard all day.” With a genuine grin, Max bounces the padel ball against the floor. 

Charles beams back at him and Max can almost see the stress that his friend has been carrying around recently melting away from his features. He had known that your brother was worried about you, had known your entire circle, or what was left of it, was worried but now that this was really happening, Max could practically feel the relief rolling off of Charles in waves. 

“You’re telling me.” Charles mutters before walking to the other side of the court to get the game started. 

Max hadn’t meant to end up in your old neighborhood, truly he hadn’t. He had been on a run the morning after playing padel for a few hours with Charles when he passed the bakery that was a few blocks from your old apartment. He hadn’t meant to come this far but the pressures of the season were starting to get to him as they usually did around this time of year and he had needed extra time to clear his head. The fact that he couldn’t seem to get you off his mind either plagued him the entire run too. The way you had felt pressed against his side as he walked you home that night last month, the way your cheeks flamed with humiliation as Lando had laid into you in front of him when he walked you to your door, everything about you seemed to be invading his thoughts and it worried him. 

It worried him because he couldn’t let you get under his skin like this. He knew it was a dangerous game he was playing, knowing what you’ve been through and allowing himself to wander down that road. He was just happy you were safe now and hopefully you would start to get that spark back that he knew you still had in you. Everything else would have to wait. 

So when he passed the bakery you had pointed out as your favorite the night he had walked you home, he couldn’t help but follow his feet inside. The smells of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries washed over his senses as the bell above the wooden door jingled, announcing his arrival. He knew exactly what he was looking for before the woman behind the counter even asked and before he was able to second guess his decision, Max was walking out of the bakery moments later with half a dozen of what he knew were your favorite almond croissants. 

A housewarming gift, he told himself. Because what other way should Max welcome his newest neighbor to the building where he had lived for the last two years? He knew these were your favorites and if he had to guess, wandering back into your old neighborhood just for some carbs was probably at the bottom of your ‘to do’ list right now, even if they were heavenly pieces of baked bread and sweet almond filling. 

While Max made his way back across town, laden down with a large pink bakery box, you were just getting out of bed and starting your day. Anxiety, a feeling that seemed to be your constant companion lately, sits heavy on your shoulders as you move around the new apartment. The quiet hush that blankets the small space is different than the stifling silence you're used to in your apartment with Lando. It was unnerving to say the least but if you allowed yourself to pause for even just a moment, you could almost feel your soul breathing a sigh of relief. 

That wash of contentment is short lived though when a knock at your front door sends your heart rate spiking through the roof. You know that Lando was going to be home today but didn't know what time. It didn’t even cross your mind that there was no way it was him outside your door because he simply didn’t know where you had moved to but just the thought of someone who you weren’t expecting waiting for you and the possibility that it could be your now ex-boyfriend had you spiraling. 

Reaching for your phone, you pull up the security system app that Charles had insisted you get installed, despite the fact that this was a very well secured building with its own doorman downstairs 24/7. The person standing outside your door has confusion knitting your brow together. 

Pancake ingredients forgotten, you pad towards the door shuffling through various emotions: relief that it isn’t Lando waiting for you on the other side, apprehension about seeing the person that was patiently waiting in the hallway for you, and a bit of relief that you hadn’t lost this person like you thought you might have. 

“Max, what a pleasant surprise.” You murmur when you swing the door open. 

In front of you, the Dutch driver is dressed for a workout in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, his blond hair covered in a backwards baseball cap. You’re surprised at the shimmer of pleasure that works its way up your spine when he smiles at you but quickly squash the feeling, remembering the pity on his face as Lando had yelled at you that night he walked you home. 

“I was on a run this morning and remembered you saying this bakery was your favorite. I thought I’d bring you some almond croissants as a sort of ‘welcome to the building’ present.” 

Warmth spreads through your belly at the gesture and you hold the door open to welcome Max into the apartment. “Welcome to the building?” You ask, confused. 

Max grins back at you, rubbing at the back of his neck as he follows you to the kitchen. “I live up in the penthouse. I moved in about two years ago.”

Surprise flickers across your face. When you started dating Lando, your friendship with Max had grown distant so it shouldn’t shock you that you didn’t even know where your friend lived. “Oh, I didn’t realize.” You whisper, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. 

Max watches you bustle around the kitchen, decidedly avoiding eye contact with him. For a few moments he just observes you, trying to decide if he should leave or push. Charles had mentioned yesterday that you were nervous about living alone and Max wanted to make sure that you were okay. He knew he should probably leave you alone to continue to settle it, with it being only your second day in the apartment alone, but there was something keeping him rooted to the spot where he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

 “Are the almond ones still your favorite?” He asks, shattering the silence that had settled over the room. He knows you’re easily spooked now and Max desperately wants you to be comfortable about him. Maybe if he distracts you from whatever storm is brewing in your head, you’ll open up a bit. 

His patience is rewarded with the first unguarded smile he’s seen from you in a long time. “I can’t believe you remembered.” You laugh, reaching for one of the croissants in the open box. 

“You used to put these things away like nobody’s business when we were younger.” 

The blush that creeps across your cheeks has Max gripping the edge of the counter. The two of you fall into a comfortable conversation of safe topics, mostly about your new apartment and how Max’s cats are doing. You like this, the way you feel around him but you can almost feel your body bracing for the other shoe to fall. You keep waiting to have something stupid slip out of your mouth, causing Max to berate or make fun of you. 

Much to your surprise it never happens though and you spend the next hour talking through memories of when Charles and Max were fighting it out on the karting tracks when you were younger. Max remembered you well from those days, how you would beg to tag along with him and Charles and the older boys. 

The sun sits high in the sky when your phone start buzzing loudly on the counter. At first you ignore it, too lost in the conversation you and Max are having, the way he is so attentive to everything you have to say and how he asks you questions like he’s genuinely interested in what you have to say. You don’t want the attention he’s giving you to end but when your phone starts buzzing for the fifth time in a row, you get up off the couch to retrieve it. It was probably just Charles checking on you, you hand’t heard from him all day after all. 

Your heart sinks and your stomach churns when you see the caller ID though. “Fuck.” The whisper that tumbles off of your lips is broken and harsh, causing Max’s head to snap towards where you’re leaning over the counter, forearms braced on either side of your phone. 

“Everything okay?” Max gets up off the couch to join you in the kitchen, concerned over the way you’ve suddenly gone white as a sheet as you stare down at your phone like it’s about to reach up and strangle you right there in the middle of the room. 

In the couple of hours that you had spent catching up with Max, you had completely forgot that Lando was due to get home soon. “I guess Lando has discovered I’m gone.” The way your voice shakes has Max’s heart squeezing. 

“He doesn’t know you moved out?” 

“Well he does now.” You quip, nervous chuckle falling from your lips. The text messages came in first, it looked like. Nearly a dozen of them and as you scroll through the messages, your face heats. Of course this is going to happen with Max here. Why is he always a witness to your humiliation?

Where are you? Why is the closet half empty, where are all your clothes? Baby, why is your treadmill gone? And your Peloton?  Where the FUCK are you??? ANSWER ME NOW WHERE ARE YOU??? DID YOU LEAVE ME THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY YOU’RE DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE NOW COWARD

Shortly after the messages stop, the calls start. You stare down at the phone as Max watches as call after call comes through. 

“You don’t have to answer him.” Max murmurs, coming to stand right next to you. You have to resist the urge to lean into his warmth, to collapse against the quiet strength that rolls off of him in waves.

“It’s only going to get worse if I don’t.” 

“Does he know where you are?” 

You shake your head, tears threatening to spill over. Why was this all happening right now? You knew you were safe, that he had no idea where you had moved to but just the thought of being in the same city as him when he was this angry is enough to have the panic threatening to strangle the breath straight out of your lungs. 

“Then you’re safe. He wouldn’t ever do anything to put his career in danger, Dovie.” 

You have to laugh at the statement because it’s so true. Lando would never do anything to put his career on the line. He’d do whatever it took to keep you in line under his thumb, no matter how mean he had to be to control you but when it came to his career? His first love? He’d never do anything to put his seat in question and you knew that. You had always come second to racing and what Max said was the total truth. 

Max watches you shrink into yourself as the calls continue to come in, one after another, and he knows he has to do something. He glances at the time and instantly gets an idea. “I was supposed to go to dinner with Danny in an hour. What if you leave the phone here for the night and come to dinner with me?” He pauses, seeing the panic flicker across your face. “With us. Come to dinner with us.” He corrects quickly. “I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free too? It’s been a while since we’ve all had dinner together.” 

Your eyes drop down to the phone, now quiet for the moment, and weigh your options. You know you’re not ready to talk to Lando but the fact that you’re ignoring him makes you feel like a coward. You’re going to have to speak to him sometime but maybe it was okay if you put if off for a few more days. Dinner out with Max, Daniel, and your brother sounds so appealing but you still hesitate. 

“Come on, Dovie. You can’t spend the whole night starting at the phone. He’s going to keep calling and it’s not good for you to be alone right now.” 

The pain that slices through your heart at the gentle coaxing Max’s tone takes on is almost unbearable. Why is he always the one to see you laid so bare, so vulnerable? 

“How did I let this happen, Max?” Your voice breaks, soft and uncertain as you turn into Max’s waiting frame. Without hesitation, Max’s arms circle around you and he pulls you deeper into his chest. Something settles in him then, almost like he’s relieved you’ve allowed him in. The way you shake while he holds you has his chest aching and he’d really like to give the McLaren driver a piece of his fucking mind right about then, but he knows that’s going to have to wait for now. You’re much more important. 

“You were in love, schatje and that’s okay. You trusted him and he broke that trust. It’s not a reflection of you, sweet girl, its a reflection of him. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You sob quietly into his chest, soaking his t-shirt through with your tears as the dam finally breaks. Humiliation threatens to drag you under but you allow Max’s words to resonate through you. They soften the sharp edges of your heartache and regret, knowing that someone like Max, who you respect and have known for nearly your entire life, doesn’t think this entire thing is your fault. You sink into his warmth, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, allowing his steady breath to ground you. 

Max just stands there, a quiet pillar of strength that he can feel you desperately need right now. Hr murmurs quiet reassurances to you as you cry against him, slowly rocking you back and forth. “Come on,” Max coos, lips brushing against the top of your head. “Go take a shower and then lets go to dinner. I’ll call Charles and see if he’s free. You haven’t seen Danny in ages, right? It’ll be good to get out.” 

Dragging in a deep breath, you hold the air in your lungs until they pinch. “Okay.” 

With one last look at your phone, you turn away and walk down the hallway, leaving Max starting at your phone which has finally gone quiet. For several moments, Max just stands at the counter in the kitchen, unable to move. Relief floods his veins when he hears the shower start though and he knows that you’re finally making a small step towards getting out from under Lando’s control.

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[shorthaltsjester]

endlessly thinking thoughts about cr characters, morality, and selfishness (likely place for me to be, given that my day job includes endlessly researching ethics and meaning of life) but in light of bell’s hells most recent illustration of their insularity and individualism, I’ve been really like. Trying to unpack why I find it particularly egregious in this party when obviously mighty nein were notoriously self-interested, especially at the beginning, and when vox machina had quite a few moments where their horses were far higher than they had any reason to be. And again, I really want to make it clear her that I don’t hold self-interest or selfishness to be some abhorrent and unforgivable thing, in fact I think its incredibly normal especially given the context of main characters in a story told through game mechanics that flourish on the interest of the individuals making the choices. I’ve written before about how one of the throughlines that I’ve seen in laura’s pcs (since I’m someone who particularly enjoys looking at the moral outlooks characters develop) is a common thread of morality that’s highly dependent on their own interests. And like, this is a positive throughline to me! Without getting into my own views on morality, it is particularly compelling to me for characters with isolated upbringing (which applies to vex, jester, and imogen, each in different ways) to develop a moral code informed by that isolation, and in vex we see her moral code is ‘anything goes if it protects those I hold dear’, in jester we see a moral code that doesn’t care about morality as much as it cares about the chance to care and be cared for, and in imogen we see a moral code developed in response to her very unique experience of hearing the darkest parts of people and judging them on those (which to be clear, i am not judging her for that fact, I think it makes extreme sense for someone who hears the thoughts the people have to be horrified by those things, but it does mean her moral system is almost completely backwards, where intention holds more weight than action, which perhaps makes sense of the popularity of defending all of her ideas and choices and the Right Ones by certain parts of the fandom that insist leftism is hidden in the dnd real play). And that’s all to say that, out of the cr parties we’ve seen, I don’t think any single member of bell’s hells is uniquely more or less selfish or more or less of an asshole than previous characters. And in fact, I tend to be quite fond of selfish characters, I have a well documented history of cherishing them well beyond the cr fandom. But the point is that my calling something or someone self-interested is not a value judgement in this context, it's a descriptive claim about the traits a character exhibited.

Imogen, who has insisted time and time again re: the values of the accord that she would not be swayed by the temptation of predathos because she recognizes the importance of this fight, only to turn around and pretty immediately open herself up to predathos to fulfil the most threatening part of ludinus’ plan is self-interested. I cannot conceive of any other way to describe her choices. And her being self-interested doesn’t mean she can’t also be altruistic at times, but I will be clear that I don’t think her risking killing herself as she attempts to bring down the god-eater that she released is particularly selfless. In my best faith interpretation I’d say she’s pretty middle of the road in that choice. But I bring all this up because a comparison I’ve been seeing is that bell’s hells aren’t as mean as the mighty nein or even vox machina in certain moments and that it doesn’t make sense for the fandom to view bell’s hells as likely to be villains when the same wasn’t true of the previous two campaigns, and I think I have to pretty emphatically disagree, and not because I don’t think there aren’t moments in both campaigns that feature extremely high levels of assholery and villainry from pcs – I mean, some of my favourite cr characters are percy and jester, both of whom i’d say are ‘good guys’ due to the pure luck of the found familys they fell in with and both of whom often suggested plans that were. Not okay. To say the least. But ignoring the difference between suggesting fucked up plans and walking your god-eater infused bestie back towards the troops sent to support you in keeping that entity contained, the other big difference I’ve noticed in my own introspection on how I react to bh vs mn and vm, as well as which things i cherish about previous campaigns that were really missing from c3 to what I think is the story and the character’s detriment (staying away from the shape of the narrative, just because others have made posts that put words together better about that than I can) is that while members of vm and mn remained self-interest to the end of their campaigns and have reasserted those habits in appearances since, the parties as entities working in exandria had both, to echo ashton’s apt suggestion to ludinus, grown up.

Like one moment I think of is beau and fjord’s convo in the nein hells episode, because beau is being her asshole self and fjord is being his ‘I care about My People and I’ll think about the rest later’ self (i say affectionately but certain parts of the fandom I recognize would view derogatorily) – clearly they’re not the kindest people as they discuss bell’s hells, but two notable things are (a) they still treat the hells with the respect and use their means to help them prepare for the battle coming, even when they hear the horrifying thought that the hells aren’t certain they’ll choose to save the gods, all the nein request is that they choose the kind option (b) they say none of their doubts to the hells themselves – likely because they have the empathy to realizes that its a high stress situation that won’t be made better by a reminding the hells how small and likely ineffectual in the universe they are – and their comments about cannon fodder are ones made in jest to each other. Even taking that in the worst faith interpretation, the jokes that beau and fjord make in a private conversation has absolutely zero influence on bh. This is quite different than bells hells, after like. as clearly betraying the accord they promised to assist (even if their intentions are ‘good��) as is possible, belittling the religious armies sent to support their endeavor to keep predathos sealed as they all feel the weight of an irrevocable change occurring in exandria, one bells hells has first account knowledge now that it IS incredibly willing to eat mortals, and laudna and ashton, the members of bells hells most often cited by certain fandom spaces as characters who have gone through so much and it only made them kind and strong, look into the faces of people facing literally existential threat and laugh and mock them. That is, mighty nein as individuals is comprised of some of the, perhaps, most asshole pcs, but The Mighty Nein as a party is committed to treating others the best they can, to leaving things better than they found them (a quote that I think is particularly exemplary of the dynamics of self-interest at play in the mighty nein, since it originated as a blatant illustration of molly’s notion of self-importance but developed to become a kind of commandment that the nein became committed to fulfilling). The opposite is true of bell’s hells, where orym and dorian at least both seem to have motivation beyond themselves, imogen’s changes but has shown she is capable of letting go of her ‘intention reigns’ requisitely individualistic perspective, and chetney plays up his selfishness but has shown himself to care quite a bit for people beyond their party but bell’s hells as an entity is uh, pretty self-interested.

To clarify some of my thoughts here in the spirit of the wicked renaissance happening rn, I’ve always felt that for good was an incredibly apt song for the mighty nein, because it really nails that feeling that perhaps they didn’t change each other as individuals to become better people on the grand scale, maybe they’ve just changed each other permanently, but they (and I would agree with this) view each other as having changed each other for the better (e.g., I don’t know if I could say whether jester is a morally better Individual at the end of the campaign, but I can say with certainty that she fulfils and makes moral choices in her work as a member of the mighty nein). And I don’t know if this can be said about bell’s hells – I think they have certainly influenced each other and changed how alone many of those characters felt, and that is not a slight on the story, it can be a great centre for a story to focus on how a relinquishment of the feeling that one is alone in the world can change them. But for the most part, that hasn’t been bh’s story, their story instead has been about validating their refusal to become anything beyond what they insist was out of their control. And not to get to annoying philosophy student about it but bell’s hells are maybe some of the most explicit examples of sartrian bad faith I’ve seen in fiction in a hot minute, because their insistence that they treat their wounds as incurable and entirely out of their hands has led to them limiting their own potential because many of them ignore their responsibility as people to make choices in their own lives. In contrast, at the end of the campaign, mighty nein are still assholes as we all like to refer to them as, but in the context of an apocalypse, I think I’d prefer the assholes like fjord – who is certainly being truthful when he says he doesn’t care about what harm comes to 200 people when jester is at risk but who also, as they traverse into aeor, is insistent that their group won’t be running away from whatever apocalyptic threat awaits them, even if that means dying in the fight – than I would an asshole like ashton – who promises to fight for the little guys but who then turns around and acts upon a philosophy that says the strongest will survive. When you look at the mighty nein, it is incredibly easy to see the fingerprints of change they’ve left upon one another, and even to see the boundaries they place on one another’s asocial behaviours through their presence in one another’s lives (more recently the group chastising jester’s fond words about ludinus is a good example, but others are yasha’s pressuring caleb and essek to move on from their wizard talks as they collect paper in aeor instead of venturing further toward the battle they have to fight, or fjord and jester’s frustrated conversation in the ukotoa reunion about how fjord made a stupid decision and he doesn’t regret but he feels dejected and jester checking him on the fact that they still need to figure out a solution). It takes some extrapolation to see how bells hells have changed each other in more than aesthetic ways, if they have at all. Because the catalyst for change is pressure to do so, and aside from moments where it was truly change or be left behind, bh doesn’t challenge each other unless forced to by morri’s trials or delilah’s interruption and on the very odd occasion an interesting game of rollies-spin-the-bottle. 

And it’s interesting because the asshole behaviour of the mighty nein, like bell’s hells, stems from being left on the outskirts of society and the mistreatment that comes with that, so seemingly the change from being alone to being with others is one that actually insists upon being challenged to grow and change. I mean, just looking at the starting points of the characters, there’s an intriguing amount of stark similarities between their pasts; jester and fearne were both people loved dearly by the family they grew up with but who were loved within the confines of a gilded cage, ashton and beau both have an glaring self awareness that their anger at the world has a very particular source (their parents) but use that as justification rather than a means of self reflection, yasha and orym are trying to navigate a world in the wake of an incomprehensible loss and a sense of duty, fjord and imogen are both seeking out knowledge of their own powers and unknowingly retreading the paths of their missing and presumed dead parental figures. The idea that bell’s hells are uniquely mistreated by society in the history of cr player characters is, politely, laughable. Absolutely they’re mistreated, and I think it could be fair to say these characters are more defined by their isolation than others but I think that has more to do with the lack of downtime rp than it has to do with the context of their suffering.

What I have loved about the mighty nein is that in their realization that the bonds they forge with each other are undermining the truths most of them had taken to be true – that they were alone and without a place in the world – they are also forced to realize that no longer being alone and isolated comes with the weight of social responsibility. And this was born out of a willingness the mighty nein had to call each other out and that the players had to allow their characters to be wrong and get called on it. Because that’s the friction of living with other people on the small party scale and the large world scale – in the mighty nein’s ability to survive as a people who cared for each other even when they didn’t agree or when they made decisions that they couldn’t understand, they were constantly developing their ability to care for the very same world that left them alone. Because in campaign two, the world as a whole had the role that the gods have in campaign 3 – why should a party of nobodies, treated like shit by the world and the people in it go through the effort of saving it?

And the mighty nein answered, in their own imperfection and assholery, that nothing is ever just one thing – one of the things I cherish most about campaign 2 is its commitment to ambiguity, allowing the complexity of the world to go unsolved because there is no solution to the fact that life is immense and sometimes incoherent. I don’t think its a coincidence that I’ve seen some of the people lamenting the idiocy of fandom members like me who think that it actually isnt a leftist win to destroy the world in the hopes of spontaneous justice arising in c3 are the same people who criticised c2’s conclusion with the cerberus assembly for not being leftist (a word which for them means . the aesthetic image of a rebellion sparked and not the unending commitment to doing what you practically can to make life more just for those around you – whether they’re particularly kind to you or not) enough. The conclusion of c2 emphasizes that the choice to make the world a better place isn’t something that can be achieved in one single sweeping action that will wipe the boards clean – there is no murder of all the members of the cerberus assembly that would’ve solved the problems that caused the assembly’s power. There is no forcing of the god’s out of exandria that will deal with the actual issue undergirding both bh and their blorbo-moralized fans' criticism of the gods, which is that mortals are cursed with the burden of free will, and being mistreated by other mortals means constantly having to try and make sense of the fact that someone chose to do something cruel to you (and, sometimes, that you made a choice that allowed that cruelty to occur) – a burden made much heavier when the person who hurt you is your cult-indoctrinated mother, or your cult leader father, or the person in the mirror. The mighty nein take up this fight, and the complexities of their individual identities begin to heal in the light of a commitment in their relationship as friends and as a team to improve the world, even on the small scale. Bell’s hells remain gridlocked and stagnant and unwilling to change in an unspoken turf war of self-interest because they’ve insisted (influenced in part by the context of the campaign 3 narrative but, as others have aptly pointed out, that narrative was much more influenced by bh’s lack of curiosity regarding anything except their own minds) upon finding a solution to a problem they’ve decided is earth-shatteringly (quite literally, to the people of ruidus) unjust based on, aside from encounters where fellow mortals were the primary oppressors, their own testimony of the god’s not listening to them and the obvious villain’s parallel testimony. Something I’ve really been chewing on lately is caduceus words to fjord about his role as a paladin of the wildmother – that maybe it just means that someday, someone will pray for a miracle, and there fjord’ll be and the weight that has given that fjord’s bond to ukotoa came from his desperation not to die and his willingness to accept whatever help would be offered, that fjord could now be the person that reaches out to someone in need, and that the hand he offers won’t come with a curse.  And I think that’s really the poignant difference between bh and mn for me, that for bh, their experiences of injustice, though did make them personally bitter, did not make them morally misanthropic.

Comparatively, Bell’s Hells chose to ensure that, because the gods never answered their prayers, they shouldn’t be permitted to answer anyone else’s. Is this an understandable position? Sure, for the walls of a preschool, not really for a group of characters that I will ever be in any way inclined to view as something close to heroes. While it’s true that there are parts of life that are beyond our control – somethings happen to us that we have no say in, and they cause injuries both physical and mental that we are left to heal without any rhyme or reason, it is still our responsibility to heal them. And if you choose not to, well, then you’ve chosen not to, and are responsible for the consequences and judgements that choice might amount to.

Anyway, sorry this is all over the place but TLDR: calling bell’s hells as a party self-interested is actually just descriptively correct – they can save members of the party made up of their close friends and still be self-interested – and while the individual members of bell’s hells actually aren’t all that uniquely self-interested in the history of cr pcs, the party is uniquely self-interested in how they’ve chosen to navigate the world an their responsibility to the people in it.

[woso-story]

Bad Driver

Alexia Putellas x Reader

It was a crisp Friday evening, and the anticipation of date night had you buzzing with excitement. Alexia, your longtime girlfriend and the love of your life, was getting ready in the bedroom while you paced the living room. The plan was to drive to your favorite restaurant, where you’d made reservations days in advance. Usually, Alexia drove her sleek Cupra, but tonight, you felt a spark of rebellion—you wanted to drive for once.

When Alexia emerged, radiant in a fitted blazer and her signature confidence, you smiled and said, "Babe, I’ll drive tonight."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You? Drive?" she asked, her tone light but her expression anything but.

“Yes, me. Why not? You always drive. Let me take the wheel this time,” you replied, grinning.

But Alexia didn’t hand over the keys. Instead, she shook her head with a nervous laugh. “No, no. It’s fine. I’ll drive.”

Confused, you stepped closer. "Why not? It’s not like I’m a bad driver or anything."

She hesitated, her gaze darting away. "It’s not that. I just… prefer to drive myself, that’s all."

Her response only deepened your suspicion. You crossed your arms and gave her a pointed look. “Alexia, you’re a terrible liar. Just tell me the truth.”

Alexia sighed, running a hand through her hair. After a long pause, she finally muttered, barely above a whisper, “I don’t think you’re the best driver.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

She winced, clearly regretting her words. "It’s not a big deal! It’s just… every time you drive, I get a little nervous."

“Nervous?” you echoed, bewildered. “Why would you be nervous? I’m a good driver."

Alexia bit her lip, as if debating whether to continue. Finally, she said, “Well, you’re often over the speed limit. And you’re late on the brakes… like, really late. Sometimes I think we’re going to hit the car in front of us. Oh, and there was that time you drove over the curb and scratched my rims. Twice.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “You noticed that?”

She gave you a sheepish smile. “I… might have had them repaired. Twice.”

Her confession hit you hard. You couldn’t believe you’d never noticed how nervous she felt. The thought that she didn’t trust you to drive her car made your heart sink. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” Alexia said softly, stepping closer. “You’re amazing at so many things, mi princesa. Just… maybe not driving.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn’t land. You felt embarrassed and hurt, retreating into silence. The drive to the restaurant was quiet, the usual easy conversation replaced by an awkward tension. Even dinner felt different, with you picking at your food and Alexia watching you with worried eyes.

---

The dimly lit restaurant, usually your haven of laughter and love, felt muted. Alexia’s gentle attempts to pull you out of your shell failed to break through. Her jokes felt forced, and her compliments only deepened your self-consciousness. As dessert arrived, Alexia reached across the table to take your hand. "I’m sorry if I upset you. That wasn’t my intention."

You nodded, offering a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "I know. It’s just… hard to hear."

As you left the restaurant, Alexia stopped you by her car. “Here,” she said, holding out the keys.

“What?” you asked, frowning.

“You’re driving us home,” she said, her tone firm.

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not doing it now."

“I had a little too much to drink,” she countered, giving you a small smile. “It’s up to you now.”

You hesitated, suddenly suspicious. “Was this your plan all along? Get me to drive so you can complain about how bad I am?”

Alexia laughed, but her expression softened. “No, I just want to show you that I trust you. You’ve got this.”

With a sigh, you took the keys and got into the driver’s seat. The drive home was smooth, largely because you were hyper-focused on every move—checking mirrors, braking early, and staying well under the speed limit. Alexia’s amused glances didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re doing great,” she said, her voice full of warmth.

For the first time that evening, you felt a flicker of pride. That is, until you reached the garage of your apartment complex. As you turned the corner, Alexia shouted, “Careful!” but it was too late. The screeching sound of metal against concrete filled the air.

Your heart sank as you parked and got out to inspect the damage. Sure enough, the rim was scratched—again. Tears welled up in your eyes as you turned to Alexia. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for the repair this time.”

Alexia walked over and pulled you into a comforting hug. “It’s okay, mi amor. It’s just a rim.”

“But I ruined it… again,” you mumbled into her chest, tears streaming down your face.

“Shh,” she soothed, stroking your hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re perfect to me, rims and all.”

---

Back in the apartment, Alexia made you tea and held you close on the couch. Slowly, your embarrassment faded. She didn’t try to fix the situation with words; instead, her steady presence spoke volumes. The warmth of her embrace and the rhythm of her heartbeat calmed you.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion.

She kissed the top of your head. “Always. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, snuggling into her.

After a few minutes of silence, a laugh escaped you. Alexia tilted her head, curious. “What’s so funny?”

“I always wondered why you never let me drive,” you said, grinning. “Now I know.”

She chuckled, pulling you closer. “You’re the perfect passenger princess, mi amor. Let me drive you wherever you want to go.”

Smiling, you nestled into her embrace, the tension of the evening finally dissolving. With Alexia, you knew you were safe—in love, in life, and yes, even in the passenger seat.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Just Ask Me

Summary: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fe!Reader -> Hangman is used to getting what he wants, so what happens when he doesn't get you?

Disclaimer: Softer moments, Dagger Squad being a family, Hangman being taught a lesson or two though, Reader is Phoenix's best friend, Jake and Reader find common ground, getting lost in the store. Mentions of bullying and shitty friends but Jake helps out. Light swearing. Kinda a strangers/unlikely friends to lovers situation.

It was no secret Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin always got what he wanted. 

He was the best of the best in the air force, he had enough charm to fill an entire mythical city and he wasn’t too bad on the eyes, either. 

So, when you rejected him it was safe to say he didn’t know what to do. 

Of course, he’d been rejected before. But that was mostly in moments where he wasn’t actually trying. Maybe a quick ‘hey’ and a smile at a bar and there was a chance the girl would walk away. But leading you into a conversation, giving you his best smile and receiving one in return…

He’d never been rejected at that point. 

“No, thank you.”

Jake faltered for a moment. 

Nobody had ever been that polite in rejecting him, either. 

“But can I help you with anything else?”

Jake shook his head. “N-No, ma’am. Have a nice night.”

You smiled. “You, too.”

Jake kept looking back at you as he walked back to the rest of the Dagger Squad. 

“What’s the matter, Bagman? Crash and burn?” Phoenix asked. 

Jake didn’t say anything. Just walked back and sat on the edge of the pool table, his eyes still on you. Then he felt himself laugh; mostly because he was confused. 

“Yeah.”

Phoenix smiled, holding out her hand to Rooster. “Hand it over.”

Reluctantly, Rooster slapped a twenty dollar bill into her hand. “How do I keep losing to you?”

Phoenix examined the crisp bill. “Because I’m just better.”

Rooster rolled his eyes but Jake’s eyes remained on you. What had he done wrong? 

He’d seen you looking over at the Dagger Squad. You’d even looked in his direction a few times. So, after he went and got his drink, he walked over and struck up a conversation with you. You talked with him. He smiled. You smiled. It was going well. And then…no thank you. 

What had he done wrong?

Pocketing the twenty dollar bill, Phoenix reached for her jacket and handed the pool cue over to Jake. He took it, his eyes still on you. 

What had he done wrong?

“Well, this has been fun, boys, but I’ve got a go.”

Rooster turned to her, Jake finally peeling his eyes away from you. “Where?”

“Meeting a friend.”

“You have friends?” Jake asked her. 

“Funny.” 

However, as Phoenix stepped down and onto the bar floor, she didn’t turn towards the doors. Instead, she walked straight over to you. 

“What’s she doing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe thanking her.”

Jake just rolled his eyes, his entire body suddenly on high alert. But as both Jake and Rooster watched Phoenix with you, they realised rather quickly that this wasn’t your first meeting. 

Then they watched as you packed up your things, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You, and Phoenix, looked directly over at both of them and waved. 

Jake felt a shocked smirk grow on his face as he watched you and Phoenix leave, but Bradley was the first to laugh. 

“Oh, my god.” Bradley clapped him on the back. “She’s never going to let you live it down.”

“Come on, let’s just play.” Jake said as he stood up. But his eyes returned back to you as he did so, watching as you and Phoenix left the bar laughing. 

That’s what he did wrong; he went after Phoenix’s friend. 

And Rooster was right; Phoenix was never gonna let him live it down. 

Jake figured he’d never see you again. He’d never seen you before and Phoenix had never mentioned you so he could only presume you’d come in to visit her. But he did see you again. 

Four days later, just a little after eight in the evening, Jake ran into you. Quite literally. 

Turning round one of the aisles, Jake ran into a shopping cart. 

“Ooh, sorry.”

“Oh, my god. I’m so sorry.”

Looking at who had just ran into your cart, you were met with a familiar face. And he seemed to recognise you, too.

“You…”

Letting yourself relax, you smiled. “Hi, Jake.”

“You know my name?”

“You did introduce yourself and Phoenix has told me a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope?”

You shrugged. “Some stories are more entertaining than others, but…” You saw the flash of panic across his face but then you chuckled. “I’m kidding. I’m Y/n, by the way.”

Stretching over your cart, you held out your hand. He shook it. 

“Nice to finally meet you, I guess.” Jake replied. You laughed a little with a smile, averting your eyes from his for a moment. Jake’s eyes followed yours and landed inside your cart. 

“You throwing a party or something?”

It took a moment for it to click with you. “What? Oh, yeah. No, no. No party. I’m actually- I’ve just moved.”

“Here? To San Diego?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Job transfer.”

“That sounds…”

“Stressful?” 

Jake nodded, admitting the truth. “Yeah.”

You nodded, moving your cart out of the way. “Well, it is. But everything is going well so far. Ooh, you wouldn’t know where the bedsheets are? I’ve been in here an hour already and still haven’t come across them.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah, they’re just down here. I’ll take you to them.”

So, walking beside him, he walked you across the store. 

“I feel like I’ve been put in a dryer and then put back on my feet. I have no idea where anything is in this store.”

Jake chuckled. “I felt like that. Each store had a different layout than the ones I was used to. But, you make enough late night runs for a box of pens, you tend to find your way around.”

“Figured it would have been for protein powder or something?”

Jake shrugged. “That, too.”

You felt yourself laugh a little. 

“They’re just down here.”

“Fabulous,” you almost exclaimed as you took in the rows of different materials and colours. 

“You’re probably best getting something light. The days are gonna be heating up pretty soon. It can get cooler at night but cotton is probably gonna be your best friend.”

You nodded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Scanning the shelves, you picked out a few different ones. However, the final one remained on the top shelf. Then it fell onto its back. 

“Shit.”

“Here.” Lightly pushing the cart out of the way, Jake reached up and pulled it down before handing it to you. 

“Thanks.”

Standing in front of you, Jake smiled. “Anything else I can help with? I mean, I probably know this store like the back of my hand by now.”

Looking up and down the aisle, you made a decision. “Furniture packs?”

Walking backwards, a pleasing smile on his face, Jake extended his arm. “If you will follow me, Ma’am.”

For the next thirty minutes, Jake helped you find everything you were looking for in the store. All the while, you both talked. Swapping a few short stories on how you both came to San Diego, where the best pizza places were, and how you’d met Phoenix. 

By the end, Jake helped you pack up your groceries and walked you back to your car. 

“So she just pushed them into the pool?”

You nodded. “With as much force as she could. They never bullied me again, though. After that, we became inseparable.”

“Well, I can tell you, she hasn’t changed much.” Jake placed one of the bags into the back of your car. “I mean, probably less pool pushing. Though, she probably thought about it during training. But, still.”

You chuckled. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Finally packing up your car and placing the cart back into the shelter, Jake quickly rounded your car and opened your door before you could reach for the handle. 

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“Here to serve, ma’am.”

You chuckled, rolling down the window as Jake shut your door. 

“Thank you, for your help.”

Leaning on your door, Jake shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

“Guess I’ll see you round?”

Jake nodded, trying to hide his smile. “I guess so. I hope so.”

You smiled. “Goodnight, Jake.”

“Night, Y/n.”

As Jake walked back to his car, he watched as yours rolled away and headed in the opposite direction back down the street. 

Jake saw you again just a few days later when he walked into The Hard Deck. 

You and Phoenix were sitting in one of the booths at the back, talking. The rest of the Dagger Squad were dotted around the place. Some at the bar, some out at the back and some by the pool table. 

And as he walked over to the bar, his eyeline falling back on you as even just the thought of you sent something pounding in his chest, Rooster came and stood beside him. 

“Doesn’t matter how many times you try, Phoenix won’t let you.”

Jake puffed air from his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bradshaw.”

Rooster just smirked, tracking Jake’s gaze from where it kept flicking across the room. 

“I think you do. Or else you really are as stupid as you look.”

Clapping him on the back once more, Rooster disappeared with his beer bottle towards the pool table. 

“Penny, my dear.”

Paying for his drink, Jake seemed to check himself over. 

“You look handsome.” Penny smiled as she dried a bar glass. 

Jake felt himself laugh a little. What was he doing? You were just a person. And you’d already said no. 

With a little more confidence, Jake headed towards the pool table and took up a cue with Coyote. But after two games, his confidence took a shot when Phoenix stood from the booth and you followed her. 

Both of you lent against the fence barrier and watched as they each moved around the table, taking their shots. 

And each time you were in Jake’s view, he missed his shot. 

“Getting rusty, Hangman?” Bob asked, already having noticed what effect you seemed to have on Jake. 

Glaring at Bob, Jake tried his best to focus on the shot. But there was something still stopping him. So, taking another look at you, Jake saw you looking at him. 

You raised your eyebrows a little, silently questioning him. Then you took a slow drag of your beer. 

Standing up, Jake cleared his throat and avoided the looks from the rest of his squad as he moved around the table. It took him a moment, but he finally made a successful shot. 

That continued for another two rounds until Jake found himself unable to even look at you without his stomach doing enough flips to send him dizzy. 

So, pushing Hangman aside, Phoenix took his cue and the game continued between her and Rooster. 

“How’s the move coming along?” Jake eventually managed to find his voice, though his eyes remained on his feet. 

“It’s…coming.”

Jake looked up at you. “That bad, huh?”

You shrugged. “I’m getting there. It’s just taking a little longer than I thought.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Flatpack furniture with no instructions.”

Jake folded his arms. “But it’s a side table.”

You laughed. “It’s got twenty-six pieces.”

“What?!”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Jake watched you for a moment as your attention went back to Phoenix and Rooster as he beat her. 

“Can’t be better at everything.”

Phoenix laughed. God help Rooster. 

“We’ll see.”

Leaning into Jake, you whispered. “She’s gonna kill him.”

Jake smiled. He knew that to be true. But as they broke in the next game, Jake turned back and looked at you. 

“God, you’re beautiful.” He thought to himself before another set of words left his mouth. 

“I could help you.”

“What?”

“With your furniture. I could help you.” Jake clarified. “I’ve got a couple free days coming up and I’ve got nothing else to do. I could help.”

You peeled back for a moment, your eyes flicking over every inch of his face. You smiled a little. “You’d do that?”

“I know we didn't meet under the most conventional circumstances, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to help you.”

You studied Jake for a moment. 

“Okay.”

That was how a week later, Jake had turned up at your home with Phoenix in tow. Once she got wind of Jake offering to help you, she’d already given him a warning. 

“I know you like to flirt-”

“I’m not flirting.”

“But she’s my best friend. So, if you hurt her in any capacity, I will end you.”

Jake shifted in his seat. “Duly noted.”

When Phoenix let herself into your home, she called out for you. 

“Upstairs! Please tell me one of you can read Swedish!”

Looking at each other, Jake and Phoenix realised what they’d got themselves in for. 

Three hours later, the three of you were sitting on your office floor figuring out how to build your wall library. 

“How can something have this many pieces?”

“How can two fighter pilots with engineering degrees not know how to build a library?”

Jake sat with the instructions in between his legs, reading back over the pictures. 

“Wait. I think I’ve got it.”

Phoenix sighed before pushing herself up to stand. “Well, while you get a handle on that, I’m gonna order food.”

As she left the room, going into your kitchen to find the menu, you stayed with Jake. 

In the time Phoenix was gone, you and Jake sat feet to feet across from each other and had built the first half of one bookcase. 

“Will it stay?”

Silently both you and Jake prayed that it would hold as you both let go at the same time. Risking it, he shook it a little. But it remained intact. 

“Yes!”

High fiving, you both continued to build the rest. 

“Alright, food’s ordered. I’m gonna pick it up. Are you two gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

You nodded. “We’ll be fine. Ooh, Nat, make sure they give me extra dip this time. They forgot it last time.”

Phoenix took her orders and left. 

“Do you really have enough books to fill this thing?” Jake asked as he fastened some of the screws down. 

“Yep. Is that sad?”

Jake shook his head, which surprised you. Even before you’d met him, the way Phoenix had talked about him made him sound like the only book he’d ever read in his life had probably been in an English class in highschool. Even then, you doubted he’d have actually read it. 

“No, not at all. I think it’s pretty cool.” 

“Do you like to read?”

Jake looked up at you, a light expression on his face. “You sound surprised?”

“Wha- no. No, not surprised. Just…” You tried to search for a word to use. 

“Relax, it’s okay. I get it. I don’t seem like the type who reads.”

“But you are.”

Jake agreed, starting on the second bookcase with your help. 

“Loved reading since I was a kid. Obviously, I preferred books with planes in ‘em but…it was an escape. A world where I didn’t have to sit in class and be given the future profession of office worker.”

You smiled, finding joy in listening to him. There was passion in his voice as he told you about his childhood books. You even found you’d read some of the same ones. 

“I don’t get much time to read now. Mostly, it’s just textbooks.”

“You’re welcome to borrow one, anytime. God knows I have more than I know what to do with.”

Jake smiled, graciously. “Thanks. And, I promise, if I ever borrow one, it will be returned in the condition I found it.”

“Ah, a true book lover.”

Sharing a pleased look, you and Jake stood and started to shift the book cases around the room. And you tried not to get too distracted at the fact he could pick one up on its own. 

Granted, they were light. But you had tried and the best you, or anyone that wasn’t militarily fit, could do was shuffle it along the carpet in increments. 

With Jake holding the ladder steady, you drilled the hook into the wall before he lifted the bookcase back up and you secured it in place. 

By the time you reached the third one, Natasha had opened your front door again. “Got the food! I’ll set it up in the kitchen!”

Hooking it into place, you admired the finished product before carefully walking back down the ladder. 

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

Both of you stood back and admired the empty cases. 

“Just need the shelves.”

“And the books.”

You smiled. “And the books.”

However, it was downstairs where Jake came to learn of how many books you actually owned. 

Midway through eating pizza, you opened up the walk in pantry door and pulled out a cardboard box. 

“Let me help.” Natasha told you, but with strain in your voice you declined. 

“I’ve got it.”

It landed on the counter with a thud. Opening up the folded lid, you were all greeted with the smell of books. 

What followed was another two hours of mapping out shelves and organising books into alphabetical order. Something Jake seemed to do pretty quickly. 

“Not just a pretty face.”

Thanking them a thousand times over for their help, you watched as they drove back to base and you were left to tidy what you could. 

However, the next day you found yourself with a surprise visitor. 

You were midway through rearranging the furniture in your living room when someone knocked on your door. Opening it, you found Jake stood on the other side. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, sorry. I know I should have called-”

“It’s no problem. What’s up?”

Jake looked at his hands nervously. He was holding a box of lightbulbs. 

“I had some extra in my garage and thought you might wanna use ‘em. They’re only collecting dust and it would save you a trip to the store so-”

You smiled. “If you know how to fit them, I’ll happily accept them.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “I would fit them myself but if my family finds out I went near a light socket, I think they might actually send me to my grave.”

Jake laughed, “Why?”

Inviting him in, you closed the door behind him as you explained the story. 

“It happened when I was 12. I was helping my dad change a couple of the lightbulbs in the house and I'd seen him do it enough times that he trusted me to do it myself. Only, each time I did, I kept getting electrocuted.”

“No.”

You nodded. “You’d think it’d be a fluke. Faulty wiring or something. But, dad tried – he did nothing different. But it worked. I touched a bulb and it blew up. I tried again when I was 17 and it happened again. At college, me and my roommates tried. All worked for them and blew up for me.”

“It’s a good job I know how to change a lightbulb then.”

As Jake got to work doing that, you went back to rearranging your living room. However, when he returned, he stood in the hallway for a moment. 

The sofa was at a diagonal in the middle of the living room. The side tables were at opposite ends, and you seemed a little lost. 

“Do I want it to be cosy, or more open?” You asked, out loud. “Open means there’s more airflow, but it also means I’m left with this massive empty space.”

“Why not try it both ways? If you don’t like it, switch it back.”

With his help, you did it both ways. And neither worked. 

And there weren't many ways left for you to arrange your living room. So, you flipped a coin. 

Open it was. 

Finally moving everything back into its place, you and Jake collapsed on the sofa. 

“Who knew moving could be so stressful?”

“More stressful than piloting a plane going a thousand miles an hour?” You asked. 

Jack nodded. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Hey, when do you start your new job?”

“Technically, I already have. I work from home three days a week. Because of the move, I don’t actually have to go into the building until next Wednesday.”

Jake looked at you. “Wanna do something that isn’t rearranging furniture?”

“Yes.”

Standing up, he held his hand out to you. “It requires standing?”

He chuckled. “I’m afraid so. Come on.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Taking his hand in yours, you did your best to ignore the butterflies you felt float along your stomach. But standing almost chest to chest with Jake Seresin made those butterflies go from floating and fluttering their wings to an entire tornado being created. 

“Grab your jacket. Meet me on the porch?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Two minutes later you locked your front door and walked with Jake to his car. Once more, he beat you to your door and opened it up before he closed it for you and walked around to the driver’s seat. 

Twenty minutes passed before he was pulling up outside the Hard Deck. 

“I don’t think it’s open.”

Jake hopped out of the car, as did you. “It’s not.”

“Then why are we here?”

“You’ll see. Follow me.”

Walking up to the door, it opened up and you both walked inside. Anytime you’d been at The Hard Deck, it had been packed to the walls. But at that moment, it was empty. 

“Penny?”

Walking backwards out of a swinging door, Penny came through carrying a heavy box. “Oh, good. You’re here.”

Without warning, she dropped the box into Jake’s arms. Getting a steady grip, he hoisted it a little higher. 

“I’m picking Amelia up from school. They’re hosting an emergency PTA meeting so I might be back late.”

Jake shook his head. “No worries. We can keep the bar going til you get back.”

Penny smiled. “Thank you.”

As Penny grabbed her jacket and left, Jake said nothing but saw the look you gave him. 

“You’ve wrangled me into work?”

Jake shrugged, a shit-eating grin on his face that he was struggling to hide. “Maybe.”

You chuckled and followed him outside to the back deck. “There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”

Jake shrugged again as he looked out to the sandy beach and the slow beating waves. “Can’t deny it’s a slightly better view, though.”

You looked out at it. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Sitting down on one of the picnic benches, you sat across from Jake whilst he pulled things from the crate. Napkin holders, sauce bottles and salt and pepper shakers. 

And for the next hour, you both sat in the cooling sun filling each one of them. 

“So how long have you been helping Penny?”

“A while now,” he told you. “It started out as an after-work detention.”

You felt a small laugh rise up. He was a grown man being given detention. 

“Oh, no. What did you do?”

“I left my wingman behind. Mav couldn’t get through to me, so he sent me to Penny.”

“And did she?”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. Well, her and Amelia did. Penny told me more about what happened between Mav and Goose.”

“Rooster’s dad?”

Jake nodded. “They flew together but died after an emergency went wrong. Mav was torn up for months. He’s better now, obviously, but…it stays with him. Then Penny made a point to me; I’ve never lost a wingman. I’ve left plenty behind, but I’ve never lost one.”

You screwed the cap onto the salt and pepper before taking another two and filling them. 

“And then the first full day I spent here – before I’d just spent afternoons or late nights. But it was my first full day. Penny got called away to the docks after she dropped Amelia off at the mall; she was meeting friends for her birthday.”

Pushing some more napkins into the holder, Jake packed it back into the crate and moved onto the next.

“Only, an hour later, Amelia came through the front doors with tears streaming down her face.”

Slowing down with the refilling so you could spend longer with Jake, you continued listening to his story. 

“Her friends had ditched her. One of the other girls had turned up and basically took over everything and made sure to leave Amelia out of it. She didn’t want to call her mom and she knew she’d be busy, so she came to the bar.”

The image of Amelia wiping her tears away as quickly as they fell would probably never leave him. Anytime he’d met Amelia she’d been happy – and she’d been practically bursting with fireworks when her mom agreed to let her go to the mall with her friends. 

“That was when things started to change for me.” Jake told you. “Seeing Amelia the way she was. She’d been left behind on her birthday, of all days. And not one of her friends called her.”

“They didn’t know she’d gone?”

Jake shook his head. “She tried to find them. She searched the whole mall until one of the security guards stopped her. ‘Told her he’d seen a group of them leave ten minutes before.”

“No!”

“I knew it wasn’t the same; losing someone in the air and being left alone on your birthday. But it made me realise something. I was like her friends. If something had happened to my wingman…I wouldn’t have known. It makes me feel bad, the fact it took Amelia being left alone on her birthday for Mav’s message to get through to me, but it worked. Haven’t left my wingman since.”

You smiled a little as you looked at him. “So what did you do when Amelia came back?”

“Well, she sat at the bar top doing her homework for an hour before I managed to get it out of her why she was back early. Then we made a day of it; I made her favourite foods and taught her how to make a cocktail. Penny would never let her behind the bar but after the day she’d had, how could I say no?”

“I’m guessing Penny doesn’t know about this?”

“She knows about it now. Amelia had to make a science project and her mixology seemed a little too advanced for someone who’d never been allowed behind a bar.” 

“And you agreed to make a cocktail?”

Jake hesitated for a moment. “Well, it was a mocktail. I might be a rule breaker, but I am responsible.”

Once you’d both finished restocking, you went back inside with Jake and placed one of each thing onto the tables, whilst he carried the crate beside you. 

“You said this job was after-work detention. Is it still?”

Jake chuckled, lightly, and shook his head. “No. That ended a while back, but I asked Penny if I could stay on. I help out every now and then. Fills my day when I’ve got nothing to do and,” Jake looked around. “I don’t know. There’s something nice about seeing this place calm. Penny’s put a lot into this place and we all respect it.”

Watching Jake admire the place around him, you smiled. His gaze finally landed back on yours and his expression softened as he looked at you. 

You moved onto the next table, and the next, and the next, in quiet silence. 

But as you reached a familiar booth, Jake felt the memory rush back to him. But as you scooted across the seat to place the menus and items together, a question left Jake’s lips before he could fully stop himself. 

“Did you know who I was when we first met?”

You looked back at him a little confused. “What?”

Jake looked around a little just to simply move his feet. Why had he asked? Fuck it. He’d already asked. 

“The day I hit on you. Well, tried. Did you already know who I was? From Phoenix?”

You relaxed a little, realising what he was talking about. “I didn’t know your face, but…yeah. I’d heard stories from Phoenix. She also warned me that if one of you were going to hit on me, it would have been you.”

“Is that why you said no?”

You tilted your head a little. You’d gotten to know Jake over the last two weeks and something told you he wasn’t asking because he was trying to heal his ego. 

“Why do you want to know? Truthfully?”

Being under your comforting gaze in that moment made Jake feel heat rise directly from his feet. 

Taking a deep breath, he told you why. 

“Because I want to know if you said ‘no, thank you’ because of me, or because Phoenix warned you away.”

For a moment, you smiled and Jake didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t mocking, or amusement. 

Scooting out of the booth, you stood in front of him. 

“Jake, I said ‘no, thank you’ because you did what every dude in a bar does. They walk up, no matter how nice their smile is, and expect that after a conversation I’ll give them my number. If Phoenix had wanted to warn me, she would have shown me your picture. If a guy wants to go on a date with me, he should just ask.”

Jake stood there for a moment a little dumbfounded. So, if that night he’d just walked up to you and asked you on a date, you would have said yes? If he’d asked you in the supermarket, you would have said yes? 

Did you still want to-

“She’s telling you to ask her out, idiot.”

Whipping his head to the side, Jake found Amelia at the bar unpacking her school bag. Jake’s eyes flicked over to you for a moment. You were looking at Amelia with a thankful smile before turning back to look at him. 

After nearly giving himself whiplash a couple of times, Jake’s gaze finally landed back on you, a light smirk on his face. 

“Y/n.”

“Yes, Jake?”

“Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?”

“As in a date?”

Jake nodded, and you smiled. 

“I’d love to.”

[maretinelli]

THIS IS LOVE

Lando Norris X Piastri!fem!reader

Summary: When Oscar's twin sister shares a feeling with Lando beyond friendship, the first to notice is the girl's own brother. And then, he and Lily help bring the two together.

Words: 2.7K+

Warnings: I think you can consider it something like friends to lovers, Y/n and Oscar being twins, Lily being cute, idiots oblivious to feelings haha and hanging out with friends (couple)

Author: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes that may be in the story. And you can request stories, just go to my profile and go to questions or messages. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

"This could easily be a couples' date," Lando commented casually as he slung his arm around Y/n's shoulders with a mischievous smile on his face.

Oscar rolled his eyes, but a smile escaped the corner of his lips. Y/n, in turn, laughed, pushing Lando's arm away from her shoulders.

"Hey, don't push it, Norris," she said, still laughing as the four of them entered the bowling alley, ready for the friendly competition that always ended in jokes and teasing.

--------

It was evident to anyone looking in from the outside: Lando Norris and Y/n Piastri had something special. It wasn't just the close friendship they'd built over the years - ever since Y/n started accompanying Oscar to the races - but the way they seemed to understand each other on a level that went beyond the norm. Their connection went beyond words or gestures, and everyone around them could tell there was something more between the two.

Everyone, except themselves.

Lando seemed unable to hide how much Y'n meant to him, even if he didn't realize it or admit it. He protected her, pampered her, flattered her in a way that only he could do, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

On the Piastri twins' birthdays, he never failed to send Y/n a gift, no matter where he was in the world. Of course, Oscar got something too, but Y/n's gifts were always absurdly more elaborate and full of meaning.

Like that last birthday, when Lando had sent Y/n a pair of Saint Laurent shoes that she had proudly worn during the FIA awards. At that event, although Oscar had offered her a seat as his guest, it was Lando who had taken her, making it clear to everyone that Y/n was important to him.

That same night, he surprised her once again. Before they walked onto the red carpet, he handed her a small black box with the Cartier logo in gold. Y/n's eyes widened as she opened it and found a stunning set of jewelry: A delicate diamond necklace and matching earrings.

"Lando... That's..." She began, completely stunned, not knowing whether to look at him or the present.

"Yeah, I know. It's beautiful, isn't it," he interrupted with a smile, shrugging like it was no big deal. "It's just a gift, Y/n. I wanted you to feel special today."

"You didn't have to..."

It's about you. You deserve this, Y/n. You deserve so much more, actually."

It was impossible to ignore how genuine he seemed, as if his only goal was to make her smile. And he succeeded. Y/n smiled, holding the small box like it was the most precious gift in the world because, for her, it wasn't just about the jewelry. It was about the gesture. And about him.

It was a night off from racing, a rare moment to relax. Oscar and Lando had suggested a game of bowling to unwind, and Lily and Y/n had happily accepted.

They chose one of the best break points in bowling, the atmosphere was a place with colorful lights, lively music and unlimited drinks, where it was easy to spend hours having fun.

As they picked out bowling balls, Y/n looked at Lando with a challenging smile.

"You know I'm going to beat you today, right?" She teased, leaning slightly towards him.

Lando arched an eyebrow, returning her smile. "Oh, really? I want to see you keep that confidence after the first round, Piastri Girl." He stepped so close that Y/n almost lost her breath, and then gently lifted her chin with one finger. "Good luck, princess" he murmured, before patting her back twice with a mischievous smile and moving on to pick up his bowling ball.

Yin stood there for a moment, somewhat stunned, while Lily and Oscar watched the scene from afar.

Oscar sighed, crossing his arms. "I know you've told me how much they love each other and don't realize it... But my stomach still turns seeing my sister with Lando."

Lily laughed and lightly slapped his shoulder. "Cut it out, Osc," she said, shaking her head in amusement. "You know, Lando can be a little... overly cheerful, but if they finally open up one day, he'll take great care of her. You can see it in his eyes."

Oscar rolled his eyes again, though a small smile formed on his face. He knew Lily was right, but that didn’t make it any easier for him. She was his sister, after all, and he had a reputation as a protective twin to uphold.

Oscar and Lily approached Y/n and Lando, who were still exchanging provocations in the short break before the game started.

"Lando, come with me to get the chips so we can start?" Oscar asked, pointing to the counter at the back.

Lando nodded, giving Y/n one last smile before following his friend. "Don't worry, Piastri Girl, I'll give you a chance to beat me today."

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smile as he walked away. Lily, taking advantage of the opportunity, sat on the bench next to her sister-in-law, who was now absent-mindedly fiddling with her cell phone.

Only one other group was on the opposite side of the room, while the venue played upbeat 2000s music. It was the kind of place where you felt comfortable enough to forget about time.

Lily watched Yin for a moment before smiling and dropping the bombshell, "You like Lando."

Y/n almost choked, stopping her cell phone and putting it in her pocket in a hurry. "What? No!" she replied, laughing a little, but with a touch of nervousness in her voice.

Lily just laughed, shaking her head. "I didn't ask. I'm saying! You like Lando."

Y/n bit her lower lip, looking away to where the counter would be and could hear Lando and Oscar laughing, while they took the chips. She sighed and looked away, confessing quietly: "Okay... I like him, but you can't tell anyone. I like having Lando around and, if this doesn't work out, I would lose his friendship."

Lily smiled, touching Y/n's arm affectionately. "Do you think no one notices? Everyone knows, Y/n. Only you two are oblivious to it."

Before Yin could respond, the two pilots returned with the tokens.

"Okay, guys," Oscar said, handing over the tokens. "Let's make this a competition: Female Engineers versus McLaren Drivers."

Y/n arched an eyebrow, laughing. "Oscar, I don't do engineering. Only Lily does."

Oscar shrugged. "Whatever, pick any name. It doesn't matter, because Lando and I are going to win anyway."

Y/n laughed and crossed her arms, exchanging a challenging look with her brother. The coexistence between the twins had always been marked by this slight competitiveness. Despite this, it was impossible to deny how close they were, always teasing each other, but with evident affection.

With the teams decided, the game began. Lando was the first to hit all the balls at once, and he turned to Y/n with a victorious smile.

"See? That's the difference between you and me. I make it look easy." He teased.

From afar, Lily and Oscar exchanged a knowing smile. Lily leaned towards her boyfriend and whispered, "I managed to make Y/n confess that she likes Lando."

Oscar raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then smiled. "Really? Let's try to get the two of them together today, then. I'll try to get something out of Lando too."

"Deal," Lily replied, walking to the lane to retrieve her ball.

"By the way..." She said out loud, turning to Oscar and Y/n "Just for the record, Y/n and I are ahead in the score."

Oscar burst out laughing. "Honey, that was just the first round for everyone!"

"And that makes me better than you!" Lily teased, laughing as she prepared to throw.

The room was filled with laughter, teasing and the light energy that only they knew how to create together. Far away, Lando watched Y/n as she focused on her turn, with that smile that he only seemed to use around her.

As time passed, the game continued to be lively. Laughter echoed through the cozy atmosphere, accompanied by the sound of balls rolling and pins falling.

Lando, as always, didn't miss the opportunity to tease Y/n every time he hit all the balls, while she only managed to knock down three.

"Seriously, Piastri Girl," Lando began, with a smug smile. "You have to try harder. I don't want you to say you only won because I'm nice."

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm going to win, Norris, and it won't even be hard. I'm just giving you an advantage so you don't cry later."

Lando chuckled, giving him an amused look before moving on to his next move.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Lily and Oscar watched the game unfold. Without the two of them realizing, they were discreetly planning how they would make Lando confess his feelings for Y/n.

It was Y/n's turn, she confidently caught the ball and positioned herself. But as she threw it, she lost her balance and almost fell. Before she could hit the ground, she felt firm hands on her waist.

"Careful there, sweetie," Lando murmured, catching her and helping her regain her balance.

Y/n's eyes met his, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. The two exchanged an intense look, a mixture of surprise and something else that neither of them could name. They were so close, they could feel each other's breath.

The trance was broken by the sound of the ball hitting all the pins. Y/n smiled widely and raised her arms in celebration.

"STRIKE!" She screamed, running to hug Lily.

Lando chuckled as he watched the scene, but he looked a little dazed, his mind still stuck in the moment he had just shared with Y/n.

Oscar, attentive as always, noticed his friend's condition. Lando muttered something about getting more chips and headed for the counter. Piastri exchanged a knowing smile with Lily before following him, determined to seize the opportunity.

Lily, for her part, leaned against the bench with a mischievous smile, watching Y/n tie her sneakers.

"You felt your heart racing just now, didn't you?" Lily commented casually.

Y/n rolled her eyes, chuckling softly, not responding.

At the counter, Oscar approached Lando, who was distracted as he waited for the new chips.

"What's up? Everything okay?" Oscar asked in a casual tone.

Lando let out a short laugh and nodded. "All right, man."

Oscar crossed his arms, looking at him with a calculating expression. "So... Y/n is doing well today, huh? Or is it you who's distracted with her around?"

Lando paused for a moment, clearly uncomfortable. "What are you talking about, Oscar?" he asked, trying to hide it, but the slight blush on his face gave it away.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, noticing his friend's discomfort. "Ah, don't act like you don't understand, Norris. It's kind of obvious, you know?"

Lando laughed nervously and looked away, trying to appear casual. "Obvious what, Oscar? We're talking about bowling, remember?"

Oscar took a step closer, as if he were about to reveal a secret. "You know what I'm talking about. It's not bowling that's making you this way. It's my sister."

Lando snorted, shaking his head. "You're imagining things. Y/n and I are friends...close, that's all."

Oscar gave a cynical smile. "If you say so... But let me give you a warning: If you want something more, you better not play with her feelings. Because I won't hesitate to put you up against the wall if you hurt my sister."

Lando's tone grew more serious as he stared at Oscar. "I would never do that. Never."

Meanwhile, Y/n and Lily noticed how late they were. The Piastri girl looked at the delicate watch on her wrist.

"What's taking so long?" She puts her hands on her hips. "I'll take a look, I'll be right back, okay?"

Lily smiles, knowing it was a plan. "Sure, I'll take a break here."

Y/n smiles and starts to approach where they were. The counter wasn't facing the tracks, so they couldn't see the two pilots talking.

Walking down the hallway, she bumps into her brother, who is smiling mischievously. "Hey, look at you there!" She smiles and before she can say anything else, Oscar grabs her shoulders.

"I'll be with Lily if you need anything." He smiled and left.

Y/n frowns without understanding anything and opens her arms in question, as she watches her brother disappear into the hallway and return to the bowling alley.

"Y/n!" Lando's voice echoed behind her.

She smiles, oblivious to what had happened between her brother and Lando. "Hey, I thought you ran away from us!" Y/n laughs, lightly hitting his chest, but when she sees his nervous expression, her smile falls. "What's wrong?"

"I... need to talk to you. Now."

She stares into his green eyes, trying to understand what could be wrong, but nods. "Okay. Let's go."

They walk in silence to a quieter area of the venue, away from the noise of the bowling balls and the excited laughter. Lando stops, taking a deep breath, and turns to her.

"Y/n, before I say anything, I want you to know that... I never meant for this to happen. And I feel terrible about it, because you're Oscar's sister. But... ever since the first time I saw you, back at McLaren, at the first race... I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,"

Y/n's eyes widen in surprise as he continues, his voice becoming more hesitant.

"I tried, I swear I tried to ignore it. But you're amazing, Y/n. You make me laugh, you make me nervous in a way no one else can... And I know it's wrong... I guess... and that I shouldn't feel this way, but I can't help it."

Lando runs his hand through his hair, frustrated, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I'm sorry, I know this is absurd. And I... I don't expect anything from you. I just needed to get this out of my system. Because my love for you is overflowing."

He turns to leave, but Y/n quickly grabs his arm.

"Lando, wait!" He stops, reluctant, but doesn't look at her. "You're not the only one who feels this way," she says, her voice low, almost a whisper.

Lando looks up, surprised.

"Ever since that day... ever since you showed up at the McLaren garage and started talking to me like we were already friends... I knew you were different. And I tried to ignore it too, because you're my brother's best friend and you work with him, and that would complicate everything, but..." Y/n smiles shyly. "I guess my heart doesn't care much about rules. Because it loves you too."

Lando stares at Y/n in silence for a moment, as if trying to understand if what she said was real. Then, a nervous and relieved smile appears on his face.

"Are you serious?" he asks, his voice almost breathless.

She laughs, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I am. And I think Oscar already realized that, from the way he was acting just now.

Lando laughs too, feeling his nervousness dissipate. "He probably knows. He knows everything."

Y/n steps forward, staring at him closely. "So, what do we do now?"

Lando hesitates for a moment, but soon his fingers touch hers, intertwining them delicately. "I don't know. But I want to find out with you."

She smiles, and before he can think too much, Y/n pulls him into a slow, passionate kiss. Lando holds her tightly, as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

[prettymfwrites]

Forgotten Date Prank

Paige bueckers x Female reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・.・。.

The camera’s red light blinked steadily, recording the scene unfolding in your shared apartment. You adjusted the tripod, making sure the angle was perfect before flipping the viewfinder around to check your framing. Perfect. You grinned mischievously to yourself, glancing over your shoulder to where Paige was sprawled on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on her ipad.

"Hey, guys! Welcome back to the channel!" you started brightly, clapping your hands together. "So today’s video is super special because my girl Paige has finally decided to plan a surprise date for us! Like, she's the cutest."

Paige’s head whipped up immediately, her blonde ponytail bouncing. “Wait, what?”

You ignored her, suppressing a smirk as you kept your attention on the camera. “I know, I was shocked too! I’ve been bugging her for months to take the lead and plan something on her own, and she finally did it! So today, we’re doing a GRWM for this dinner date.”

Paige’s brows furrowed, her lips parting slightly in confusion. “Ma, what are you talking about? I didn’t—”

"Shh!" You held up a finger, still grinning. "I’ll ask Paige what kind of look she’s envisioning for me, and we’ll go from there. Baby, what vibe are we going for? Glam? Natural? Something bold?"

Paige sat up straight now, her iPad forgotten as she stared at you in full-blown panic. “Baby, what? I didn’t plan—hold on—when is this date supposed to be?”

“Oh, you don't have to act like it's still a secret” you teased, swiping your makeup bag off the counter. “You’re so bad at surprises. Just tell me what I should wear so I don’t ruin the aesthetic.”

“Baby.” Paige’s voice cracked slightly, and you had to fight back a laugh. “I didn’t plan a date, What are you talking about? Are you messing with me?”

You glanced at her, face full of disbelief. “What? Are you serious right now? Paige, you texted me this morning, ‘Be ready at 7.’ Don’t tell me you forgot!”

Paige’s jaw dropped. “What?! I didn’t text you that!” She grabbed her phone, scrolling frantically. “Did I? No, there’s no way—I didn’t—hold on—”

“Babe, don’t tell me you’re flaking on our date already,” you said dramatically, turning to the camera with a fake pout. “Y’all see this? She planned a whole romantic evening and now she’s trying to back out.”

“Mama, stop lying on my name in front of them. ” Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t plan a date, I swear! Unless—wait—am I supposed to have planned a date? Did I forget something? Oh my God.”

You turned back to her, holding up a tube of lipstick. “So red or nude for the lips?”

Paige’s eyes darted between the lipstick and your face, her expression a mix of panic and confusion. “Uh—uh—nude, I guess? But seriously, baby, where are we going? What am I supposed to do?”

You held up your blush palette next. “Peachy cheeks or more bronzed?”

Paige slapped a hand to her forehead. “baby, look at me. If I forgot a date, you gotta tell me where it is so I can fix this! Like—give me something to work with. Is it fancy? Casual? Do I need to make reservations?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “You tell me.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. “You’re killing me. Killing me,” she muttered, staring at the ceiling. “Okay, okay, okay—think, Bueckers. What can I pull together in—” she glanced at the clock, “—two hours? Picnic? No, it’s too cold for that. Dinner? Do I have time to find a good restaurant? Maybe I can—”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh burst out of you, loud and uncontrollable, as you doubled over clutching your stomach.

Paige sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute.” She pointed a finger at you. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“you're so cute” you gasped, still laughing. “Oh my God, you should’ve seen your face. You looked like a deer in headlights.”

Paige groaned, throwing a pillow at you. “Mama, why you gotta do me like that?! I was out here thinking I forgot our anniversary or something!”

You wiped a tear from your eye, still giggling. “I couldn’t resist. You were too easy to mess with.”

Paige shook her head, though a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re evil. Straight up evil. I was about to sprint to the grocery store and buy some flowers or something.”

“You love me, though,” you said, grinning as you walked over to sit beside her.

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, pulling you into her lap. “But don’t think I won’t get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m shaking,” you teased, leaning in to kiss her cheek.

Paige rolled her eyes but smiled, wrapping her arms around you. “You’re lucky you’re cute, baby. Real lucky.”

I take requests💋

[crushpunky]

rafe and kook!reader go to a wedding

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

this one's kinda long, but i was having too much fun and got carried away. oh well. enjoy <3

When Rafe found out one of his dad’s business partners was getting married, he knew he had to make a good impression. So, naturally, he called up his usual accomplice to things like these: y/n.

“You owe me big time, Cameron.” Y/n said with a sigh as she hung up the phone. While she wasn’t the biggest fan of these formal, uppity events, she couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t at least a little bit excited to get a new dress (on Rafe’s dime of course) and spend an evening getting drunk off champagne with Rafe’s arm around her.

The two of them had gone shopping on the mainland, trying to find the perfect suit and dress combo to fit the wedding's spring-floral theme.

“I’m not wearing a fucking pink suit.” Rafe grumbled from behind the curtain of the changing room, his head peeking out as y/n held up a baby pink suit and coordinating hat.

“Just try it on, please. It’ll be funny.” Y/n smiled brightly, something that quickly made Rafe’s resolve crumble away with a roll of his eyes. He took it on, muttering to himself as he pulled on the light colored suit jacket. He stepped out, moving around dramatically in the pink fabric, a giggle immediately erupting from y/n’s mouth.

“Put on the hat!” Y/n laughed, Rafe shaking his head as he grabbed the hat. He plopped it on his head, cringing as he caught sight of himself in the mirror before turning back to y/n. She quickly snapped a photo, her laughter continuing to echo throughout the shop.

“Don’t you even think about fucking showing that to anybody.” Rafe pointed before chucking off his hat.

“It’s for my own personal pleasure, boy.” Y/n smiled, looking down at her photo and taking in Rafe’s sour look coupled with his extravagant, pink ensemble.

“The shit I do for you…” Rafe grumbled to himself before returning to the changing room.

After hours of shopping, the two of them finally found the perfect outfits. Rafe found a dusty blue linen suit that y/n insisted he had to get purely because of the way it made his eyes pop. Similarly, y/n found a breezy, blue dress that had Rafe nearly needing to take a step outside because of how good she looked (not that he’d admit that, of course).

Y/n was putting the last touches of makeup on when the doorbell rang. With a huff, y/n grabbed her clutch before hurrying down the stairs, hees in hand. Like many Kook weddings, the wedding was at the Country Club, which luckily meant they were oh-so familiar with the venue, but unfortunately also meant they were likely to know everybody there.

Tugging her heels on, y/n bid her parents farewell before she opened the front door. Paying too much attention to the straps of her shoes, y/n ran straight into a broad chest and fistful of flowers.

“Woah!” Rafe said, his hand falling to y/n’s waist, keeping her from falling further off the porch. Y/n looked up, finding herself wishing she’d done a couple of shots before she left when she saw just how good he looked. His face was freshly shaven (though she didn’t particularly mind his stubble), his hair was styled a bit cleaner than its usual boyish tousle, and of course he had that same, damn, shit-eating grin that always made her cheeks flush.

“Sorry,” y/n muttered, swallowing harshly as she still struggled with the buckle of her shoe.

“Here.” Rafe said, handing her the bouquet of flowers she had just run into before kneeling down. His warm hands brushed the soft skin of her ankle as he made quick work of the buckle of her shoe. Y/n barely had a second to process what was happening before he stood back up, looking down at her with a grin.

“Thanks.” Y/n said, blinking quickly before looking over to where Rafe usually parked. However, where his Jeep usually sat was the Camerons’ Mercedes, Ward and Rose inside, their usual sour expressions visible even through the darkly tinted windows.

“Why is your dad driving?” Y/n asked, turning back to Rafe as ran a hand down his face.

“He insisted we drive together.” Rafe sighed. “Said he didn’t want us sneaking out early.”

“Having no car has never stopped us before.” Y/n grumbled as they made their way to the car, Rafe opening the door as y/n climbed inside.

“Oh, y/n, that dress is gorgeous.” Rose gushed, turning around as she looked over y/n’s dress.

“Thanks, Rafe helped me pick it out, actually.” Y/n grinned, looking over at Rafe as the Ward backed the car out of the driveway. He flashed her a quick smile before focusing his gaze forward.

“That explains the low neckline.” Ward muttered, his voice quiet, but not quiet enough for y/n or Rafe to not hear. Rafe’s head whipped over to his father, his hands immediately clenching before y/n placed a hand on his bicep.

“Good to know you like it, Mr. Cameron.” Y/n said, flashing Ward her best dramatically fake grin in the rearview mirror. Rafe sat next to her, his foot tapping quickly on the floor as his jaw remained tense, an anxiety coursing through him that often presented himself when it came to dealing with his father.

“Rafe, I’m expecting the two of you to be on your best behavior tonight.” Ward said sharply. “These are my— your— business partners, so you will not embarrass our family tonight.”

“Yes, sir.” Rafe grumbled, looking out the window as they pulled up to the Country Club. The lawn was littered with finely dressed guests and flowers and lights adorned the patio, the setting sun bathing the party in golden light. The Camerons pulled up to the curb, Ward putting the car in park as the valet began to approach them.

“Oh and just as a little insurance that my partners see how much my son has grown up,” Ward turned to look at the two of them, “I told them he would be bringing his very serious, long term girlfriend with him this evening.”

“What?!” Rafe scoffed, his voice sharp as he looked between his father and y/n, whose face was equally shocked. She felt her cheeks warm up, her mind immediately racing with a thousand questions and worries… but also a subtle excitement at the new twist for the night.

“They don’t think you’re reliable or committed, so I made sure they saw you were.” Ward said simply, him and Rose exiting the car. The two of them sat in the car in a silence, unsure of what to say or do, until the valet awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Shit, um, sorry.” Rafe scrambled, popping his door open before turning back to y/n. He offered his hand out to her as she climbed out, his touch light. The gesture wasn’t unusual, he often would open the door for her or help her out of a car, but now things felt a bit different.

“Y/n I swear I didn’t know he was—” Rafe began, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Y/n sighed, smoothing the front of her dress as she looked out at the sea of guests… the sea of guests they were going to have to convince they were dating. The thought sent a shiver down her spine; imagining Rafe’s hands firmly wrapped around her all night, his eyes on her every move, his lips on hers… it was everything she hated to admit she would think about sometimes when she was alone. When she pictured her future, the person beside her always developed ocean blue eyes, a quaff of blondish-brown hair, tanned skin, a cheeky smirk… she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help thinking about being with him in that way, even if she knew it was wrong.

“It’s just one night, ok? It… it doesn’t mean anything.” Y/n whispered as she started towards the wedding, her pounding heart betraying the lies she was telling him.

The ceremony was the same boring, Kook event the island had seen countless times: bride walks down the aisle in a dress that cost more than most people's homes, groom reads off vows very obviously not written by him, and the two of them ride off into the sunset happily ever after, prenups signed and millions in their pockets.

The reception, however, was where the Kooks really shined. Drunken guests stumbled around the expansive dancefloor, an overpaid dj playing music so loud y/n was sure the Pogues could probably hear it all the way on the Cut. Trays of small bites of food floated around the party, the food nowhere near enough to balance out the effects of the open bar. Y/n found herself standing at one of the tables, watching the partygoers as Rafe ventured over to the bar to get the two of them drinks that would hopefully make them blackout for the inevitable car ride home with Ward and Rose.

“What’s a young lady like you doing standing by herself?” A voice tore y/n’s eyes away from the sea of people, an old man with a chilling smile approaching her, setting his whiskey on the table.

“Just waiting for someone.” Y/n said simply, flashing him a quick grin before turning her attention back to the party. She swallowed harshly as she felt the guy's eyes rake over her in a way that made her stomach churn.

“A special someone or just someone?” The man chuckled, his wrinkled hand creeping across the table cloth and inching towards where y/n’s arm rested.

“Hey, baby,” Rafe’s voice cut in just before the man’s fingers could reach her. Y/n felt herself exhaling as Rafe handed her her drink before snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. His grip on her was firm, much more intense than the way he would usually rest his hands on the small of her back when they were maneuvering through a party or he was following her onto the Druthers. She took a sip of it, eyeing Rafe as he stared down the man in front of them.

“Cameron, it’s good to see you.” The old man said, offering his hand out for a handshake. Rafe raised his drink to his lips before lowering it with a small chuckle.

“Sorry,” Rafe said with a short shrug. “Hands are full.”

“Rafe…” y/n warned, looking up at Rafe sharply.

“No problem.” The old man laughed, taking a sip of his own drink. “If I had a pretty thing like her I wouldn’t want to take my hands off ‘em either.”

Y/n let out a faux, airy laugh. Between the way Rafe’s grip tightened on her side and the clench of his jaw, y/n could practically feel the tension emanating off of him. Y/n placed her hand on top of where Rafe’s rested on her waist, the cool familiarity of her touch helping reduce Rafe’s urge to attack the old creep.

“Well, it was good to see you, young man.” The old man grinned before pointing over to where the bride and groom stood. “Before you know, that’ll be you two. Have a good night.”

Y/n nearly choked on the sip of her drink she was taking, Rafe letting out a scoff as the old man finally shuffled away. Despite the man leaving, Rafe’s fingers still sat firmly on her waist, y/n’s fingers toying with the rings that adorned them.

“Those are the type of creeps I’m supposed to kiss up to?” Rafe scoffed, biting his lip as he shook his head in disbelief. Y/n sighed, before resting her head on Rafe’s chest. She hadn’t even realized she’d done it until Rafe’s other arm moved to wrap around her, holding her against his chest in a warm embrace. The two of them stood, y/n’s ear pressed to Rafe’s chest and Rafe praying she couldn’t hear how fast his heart was beating.

“I’m proud of you, Rafe.” Y/n said, pulling away just enough to look up at him. He looked down at her, his lips slightly parted. Standing this close to him, she could see the freckles along his nose and the blush that adorned his cheeks when he drank present.

“For what?” Rafe whispered, his breath fanning across her face. He found himself unable to look away from the curve of her cheekbones or the hue of her eyes he considered his favorite color.

“You’ve come so far with… everything.” Y/n said, a smile dancing across her lips. “The Rafe I knew a few years ago would’ve jumped that old man.”

Rafe let out a chuckle that shook against the skin of y/n’s arm, “the idea certainly crossed my mind.”

“Oh it crossed mine too, don’t worry.” Y/n laughed, Rafe biting his lip as he looked down at her. The two of them looked at eachother, the rest of the wedding slowly fading away until it was just them. Rafe could feel his mouth begin to dry, the blood rushing to his head. Maybe it was the alcohol in his veins, or the words she spoke to sweetly, or maybe the way she looked under the twinkle of the lights, but he felt the urge to lower his head and press his lips to hers… but he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t.

So, closing his eyes lightly, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tightly against his chest. If he couldn’t be with her in the way he wanted, he could allow himself this. He could allow himself to hold her, even if every time he did he wished he could do more. He would allow himself to kiss her cheek, even if he wished he could kiss her lips. He would allow himself to tell her he loved her, even if he wished he could tell her how he thought of her every waking moment, her very presence weaving its way into every dream he’d ever had.

He would allow himself this because it didn’t cross the line. That carefully constructed line he’d drawn so firmly, pledging to never cross for risk of losing her forever… because while he could live without being with her the way he wanted, he couldn’t live without her at all.

[theonottsbxtch]

SPORTS CAR | OP81

an: so far for the last t8 songs ive given them to lando, time to give our boy oscar some love. i cant promise im back for good, its exam season at the school im working at so busy busy busy but anyway enjoy this op81 piece

wc: 4k

THE GALA WAS THE SORT OF EVENT where champagne flowed endlessly, and the air was thick with the weight of old money. Oscar, dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, leaned casually against the bar, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The soft strains of classical music filled the grand hall, but his attention wasn’t on the string quartet or the ridiculously expensive artwork on the walls. It was on her.

She glided through the crowd as though she owned the place—because, in a way, she did. Her gown, a shimmering cascade of silver, caught the light with every deliberate step she took, and her smile was just shy of predatory. She was the kind of woman who never had to hear the word “no,” a little princess who always got exactly what she wanted. And tonight, it was clear that what she wanted was him.

Oscar swirled the amber liquid in his glass, suppressing the smirk threatening to spread across his face. He recognised that look—had seen it on her at least twice tonight when their gazes met from across the room. It was bold, unrelenting, and entirely unapologetic. She didn’t just want him; she wanted to make sure he knew it.

“Enjoying yourself?” Her voice broke through the small space between them as she appeared beside him at the bar. Her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and something darker—wrapped around him as she leaned in, close enough for him to feel the warmth of her skin.

Oscar glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “As much as one can at an event like this.”

She laughed softly, the sound smooth and syrupy. “A man with all the toys in the world, bored at a gala? I thought you’d be used to this sort of thing by now.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” he replied, setting his glass down and turning to face her fully. His dark eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second before meeting her gaze again. “What about you? Enjoying holding court?”

Her smile widened, a little wicked now. “The only fun I’m planning on having tonight isn’t going to be on the dance floor.” She tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping lower, meant only for him. “You brought one of your cars, didn’t you?”

Oscar’s smirk finally broke through. “I might’ve. Why?”

She stepped closer, her hand brushing the lapel of his tuxedo, and tilted her head as though her question was entirely innocent. “Because I’ve always wondered what the fuss is about. The leather seats, the thrill of it all... You should show me.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, leaning in just enough for her breath to catch. “You think you can handle that, princess?”

Her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and challenge. “Why don’t you take me for a spin and find out?”

Oscar shook his head, a low chuckle escaping him as he leaned back slightly. “Your dad would kill me,” he said, his tone light but edged with something darker.

She didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. “He doesn’t need to find out,” she murmured, her voice smooth as silk.

Oscar raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully. She was bold—too bold for her own good—and she knew it. “You’re not exactly the subtle type,” he pointed out, his tone laced with amusement.

She shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Subtlety is overrated. Besides, you’re clever. You’d figure something out.” She stepped closer, her fingers grazing the cuff of his sleeve, feather-light. “Unless you’re scared, of course.”

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Scared? Of you?” His gaze flicked down to her hand before returning to her eyes, dark and steady. “You don’t scare me, princess.”

“Good,” she said simply, her voice soft but laced with that same unshakable confidence. “Because I’m not leaving here tonight without what I want.”

Her words hung in the air between them, the weight of her challenge impossible to ignore. Oscar let the silence stretch for a moment, his eyes locked on hers, weighing up the consequences. He could already feel the heat of her expectation, the daring glint in her gaze that made it clear she wasn’t bluffing.

Finally, he leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Her smile widened, shamelessly triumphant. “Always.”

He exhaled, shaking his head again as though he were trying to convince himself he wasn’t about to make a very stupid decision. But the way she was looking at him—like he was a prize she’d already claimed—made it impossible to resist.

“Fine,” he said at last, his voice a low rumble. “Meet me out front in five minutes. Don’t make me regret this.”

She didn’t respond, only grinned as she stepped back, smoothing the skirt of her gown as if nothing had happened. “You won’t,” she said, her tone light and breezy, as if they weren’t on the brink of scandal.

With one last look over her shoulder, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Oscar standing there, shaking his head and wondering just how far he was about to let this go.

The air outside the gala was cool, the faint hum of engines and distant chatter filling the night. She stood near the grand entrance, the shimmer of her gown catching the soft glow of the streetlights. A few partygoers lingered around her, but she didn’t pay them any attention. Her focus was on the sleek McLaren pulling up to the curb, its low, aggressive stance impossible to ignore.

Oscar was behind the wheel of the dark grey 765LT Spider, its polished finish gleaming like liquid metal under the lights. The car exuded power and precision, its growl unmistakable even in neutral. As the passenger door lifted upwards, Oscar leaned over slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers.

“Get in,” he said, his voice low and steady.

She didn’t hesitate, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she slid into the seat. The leather interior cocooned her, the faint smell of luxury and petrol filling her senses. With the door closing seamlessly behind her, Oscar revved the engine once before pulling away from the gala, leaving the murmurs of curious onlookers behind.

The streets of Monaco unfurled ahead of them, glittering like a dream. The McLaren hugged the curves effortlessly as Oscar navigated the winding roads, the sound of the engine echoing off the buildings and cliffs. The city lights reflected in the water, casting a golden hue over everything, and the occasional roar of other supercars in the distance only added to the energy of the night.

She leaned back in her seat, her head tilted slightly as she watched him. He looked completely at ease, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gear shift. His focus was sharp, the faint glow of the dashboard illuminating his sharp features.

“No girlfriend with you tonight?” she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the soft hum of the engine.

Oscar’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “Don’t have one,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Why?”

He glanced at her briefly, his dark eyes filled with quiet amusement. “Why do you think?”

She turned slightly in her seat, her smile coy. “Don’t you think it’s time to change that?”

Oscar’s grip on the wheel tightened slightly, the words hanging in the air between them. For a moment, the only sound was the steady purr of the McLaren as they sped along the coastline. Then, as if making a split-second decision, he downshifted and pulled the car off the road, steering into a quiet lookout point overlooking the sparkling bay below.

The engine rumbled to a stop, leaving the world in near silence save for the distant waves crashing against the shore. Oscar turned to her, his dark eyes unreadable, the weight of her words still lingering.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” he murmured, his voice low and thick with something she couldn’t quite place.

Her smile didn’t waver. “Why would I, when I’m getting exactly what I want?”

For a moment, he just stared at her, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Then, without another word, he leaned in, one hand reaching up to cup her jaw as his lips crashed against hers. The kiss was electric, heated and unapologetic, the kind of kiss that left no room for second guesses.

She responded instantly, her fingers tangling in the lapels of his jacket as she pulled him closer. The cool leather of the seat beneath her was a stark contrast to the heat radiating between them, their breaths mingling as the kiss deepened.

When they finally broke apart, both of them slightly breathless, she grinned up at him, her confidence as unshakable as ever.

“Told you I’d get what I wanted,” she murmured.

Oscar let out a low laugh, shaking his head as his thumb brushed against her cheek. “You’re going to ruin me, princess.”

She leaned in again, her lips ghosting over his. “You’ll survive.”

Oscar’s gaze lingered on her, his lips still tingling from their kiss. He leaned in again, his hand slipping to her waist as his breath ghosted over her lips, but just as he closed the distance, she pulled back.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she settled against the seat, her smile playful yet maddeningly smug. “Patience,” she whispered, her tone dripping with teasing sweetness. “What’s the rush?”

Oscar narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening slightly. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he muttered, his voice low and rough.

“Am I?” she said, tilting her head, her fingers tracing the edge of her seatbelt as though she hadn’t just pulled away from him. “Or am I just keeping you on your toes?”

His lips twitched into a smirk, though there was a dangerous edge to it now. “You like playing games, don’t you?”

Before she could respond, Oscar reached out, his hand tangling in her hair with surprising firmness. The suddenness of it made her breath hitch, her teasing smile faltering for the first time. He pulled her towards him, his grip gentle but commanding, and the shift in his energy sent a spark of heat straight through her.

“You forget,” he murmured, his voice a low growl against her ear, “I don’t like to lose.”

And then he kissed her, harder this time, with none of the hesitation from before. It was all hunger and heat, his lips claiming hers as though he was determined to remind her who was in control. She didn’t resist—in fact, the soft sound that escaped her as he deepened the kiss made it clear she wasn’t protesting at all.

Without breaking the kiss, Oscar shifted her effortlessly. His hands gripped her waist as he pulled her onto his lap, her gown gathering around her as she straddled him. The space in the McLaren was tight, but neither of them seemed to care. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching at his shirt as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her earlier teasing entirely abandoned.

Oscar’s hand moved from her hair to the curve of her back, holding her close as their lips moved in sync, the heat between them building with every second. Her perfume wrapped around him, intoxicating, and the soft hum of her breathing against his skin only made him want more.

When they finally broke apart, her lips were swollen, her chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath. She looked down at him, her composure shaken but her eyes still alight with that same daring spark.

“You’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice breathless.

Oscar smirked, his hand still resting on her back as he looked up at her. “And you’re full of trouble,” he countered, his voice low and gravelly. “But I don’t mind.”

She laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face as she leaned in again, her lips hovering just inches from his. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

Oscar’s hand lingered on her back as he leaned back slightly, his smirk firmly in place. “We should probably head back before someone notices we’re gone,” he said, though the heat in his voice made it clear he wasn’t entirely committed to the idea.

She tilted her head, her fingers tracing along the edge of his collar. “Fine,” she said, her tone soft but full of something mischievous. Then she added, “But can I drive?”

Oscar blinked, surprised, before letting out a low chuckle. “Drive?” He raised a brow, glancing around the interior of the McLaren. “You want to drive this?”

“Why not?” she teased, sliding off his lap into her seat while adjusting her gown. Her hand brushed along the leather of the steering wheel as she looked at him with a grin. “What, don’t think I can handle it?”

He hesitated for a moment. Letting someone else—especially her—behind the wheel of his prized McLaren felt like madness. But there was something about the way she looked at him, that mix of challenge and confidence, that made it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” he said finally, his voice low and measured. “But if you so much as scratch it—”

She laughed, cutting him off as she opened her door ready to claim her seat. “Relax, Oscar. I know how to handle expensive toys.”

He climbed into the passenger seat, watching as she adjusted the seat and placed her hands on the wheel with a kind of natural ease that caught him off guard. She turned the key, and the car roared back to life, purring under her control.

“Careful,” he muttered as she pulled out of the lookout point, her silver gown shimmering in the glow of the dashboard.

But careful wasn’t really her style.

The McLaren glided through the winding streets of Monaco, her movements smooth and deliberate. She drove with the kind of confidence that made it impossible not to watch her—one hand on the wheel, the other shifting gears effortlessly. Her gaze was sharp, focused, but there was a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

Oscar leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on her. There was something undeniably hot about watching her handle the car. The way her fingers gripped the wheel, the slight tilt of her head as she navigated the sharp turns, the soft hum of concentration she made under her breath—it was intoxicating.

His jaw tightened as he shifted in his seat, trying to focus on anything other than the growing heat building inside him. “You’re enjoying this a little too much,” he muttered.

She glanced at him briefly, her smile widening. “What, you don’t think I’m doing a good job?”

“You’re doing fine,” he admitted grudgingly, though his tone betrayed just how much more he was thinking.

But instead of heading back to the gala, she veered off, turning down a quieter road that led toward the waterfront. Oscar frowned, sitting up slightly.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

She didn’t answer immediately, her smile remaining as she continued to drive. The glow of the city faded slightly as she pulled into the circular drive of a luxury hotel, its grand façade glittering under the night sky.

She parked smoothly, turning off the engine before looking over at him with that same maddeningly smug expression. “Thought we could use a change of scenery,” she said casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Oscar stared at her, caught somewhere between annoyance and intrigue. “You know, this wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”

She leaned back in her seat, one hand still resting on the wheel, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Since when do you strike me as a man who follows a plan?”

He opened his mouth to retort, but the sight of her—smug, gorgeous, completely in control—had him swallowing his words. There was no denying it: watching her drive his car, taking charge like that, had done something to him.

“You’re trouble,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough with something more than frustration.

Her grin widened, her confidence unwavering as she leaned towards him slightly. “And you love it.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, the tension between them crackling like static electricity. Then, without a word, he leaned in, his hand gripping her jaw as he kissed her again, this time with more intensity than before.

Oscar was just starting to lose himself in the kiss when she abruptly pulled away, leaving him momentarily stunned. She smirked at him, her confidence maddeningly intact, and reached for the car door.

“Wait—what are you doing?” he asked, still catching his breath.

But she didn’t answer. Instead, she stepped out of the McLaren, smoothing her gown as if nothing had happened. Before he could process what was going on, she tossed the car keys to the valet standing nearby. The poor man fumbled but managed to catch them, staring wide-eyed at the sleek car she’d just stepped out of.

“Take care of it,” she said breezily, her tone one of casual authority.

Oscar remained in the passenger seat, stunned. He wasn’t used to people taking charge—especially not with his car—but somehow, the way she did it was effortlessly sexy. She didn’t even glance back at him as she strode toward the grand entrance of the hotel, the soft click of her heels against the pavement leaving him momentarily frozen.

It wasn’t until the valet awkwardly cleared his throat that Oscar snapped out of it. He scrambled out of the car, muttering, “Don’t scratch it,” before hurrying after her.

By the time he reached the hotel lobby, she was already stepping into the lift, her silver gown shimmering under the chandelier’s light. The lift doors were beginning to close, and for a second, he thought she might leave him behind. But just as the gap narrowed, her gaze met his, and she pressed the button to hold the doors.

Oscar stepped in, his breathing slightly uneven—not from the chase, but from the way she was looking at him, all challenge and heat.

“You’re impossible,” he said, his voice low and rough.

She tilted her head, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “You’re the one who followed me.”

The doors slid shut, sealing them inside. The moment they were alone, the tension between them became unbearable. The soft hum of the lift seemed deafening in the silence as Oscar took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire.

Her smile widened, her confidence as infuriating as it was intoxicating. “Good,” she whispered.

That was all it took.

Oscar closed the distance in an instant, backing her against the wall of the lift as his lips found hers again. This time, there was no hesitation, no space for games. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him as he kissed her deeply, his frustration pouring into every movement.

She responded with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, her back pressing against the cold metal of the lift wall. The contrast between the chill of the wall and the heat of his touch sent shivers through her, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pushed closer, her body arching into his.

Oscar’s hand slid to the small of her back, holding her firmly in place as his lips moved to her jaw, then down to the curve of her neck. Her breath hitched, and he felt the slight tremor that ran through her.

“Still want to play games?” he murmured against her skin, his voice a low growl.

She let out a soft laugh, her nails grazing the back of his neck as she tilted her head to give him more access. “Only if I keep winning,” she whispered, her voice breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his dark eyes smouldering. “Not this time.”

Before she could respond, he captured her lips again, silencing whatever quip she was about to throw at him. The kiss was fiery, intense, and left no room for second-guessing. The soft chime of the lift was barely a blip in the haze of their heated embrace. By the time the doors slid open, neither of them made any move to stop. Oscar’s lips were still locked on hers, his hands gripping her waist as though letting go wasn’t an option. She tugged him forward, their steps hurried and uncoordinated as they stumbled out of the lift.

“Which one?” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick and breathless.

She broke the kiss just long enough to motion toward the double doors at the end of the corridor. “Penthouse,” she whispered, her tone teasing but drenched with desire.

Oscar didn’t need more instruction. His hand found hers as they hurried toward the doors, her soft laughter echoing in the hallway as they fumbled to get inside. She reached into her clutch, pulling out the key card and sliding it through the reader with a practiced flick of her wrist. The lock clicked, and before the door could even swing fully open, Oscar had her pinned against the frame, his mouth crashing onto hers again.

She gasped against his lips, her hands finding their way under his jacket, fingers splaying against the hard lines of his chest. He pushed her through the doorway, their movements clumsy but urgent, and the door slammed shut behind them with a soft thud.

The suite was breathtaking, all glittering chandeliers and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of Monaco’s sparkling coastline. But neither of them paid it any mind. She walked him backward toward the plush sofa in the centre of the room, her lips never leaving his.

His hands roamed her body with a possessive hunger, sliding down her back to the curve of her hips. The silky fabric of her gown was smooth beneath his fingertips, but he was already imagining what was underneath. His lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw, then to the delicate column of her neck, eliciting a soft moan from her that made his blood run hotter.

Her own hands were equally adventurous, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. She tugged at the buttons of his shirt, her impatience making quick work of them as she revealed the toned muscles beneath.

“Impressive,” she murmured, her voice teasing but shaky with anticipation.

Oscar smirked against her skin, his lips grazing the hollow of her throat. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

Her laugh was cut short by the way his hands gripped her thighs, lifting her slightly as he flipped her toward the sofa. She let out a breathless gasp as he set her down on the edge, his body immediately pressing against hers. His hand trailed up her bare thigh, pushing the slit of her gown further aside as his lips found hers again.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she pulled him closer, her own control slipping with every passing second. His other hand travelled south, his touch firm yet teasing as it inched along her skin, setting her nerves alight.

“Still feeling in charge?” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and rough.

Her response was a soft moan, her head falling back against the cushion as he kissed a line down her neck, his hand exploring further. The sound of her breaths, quick and shallow, filled the air between them, mingling with the faint hum of the city outside.

He smirked, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. “That’s what I thought.”

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

[echo-riot]

jealous ambessa x gf reader. ambessa treats reader rude & cold because of jealousy and the reader doesn't understand why and gets sad. thanks :3

✞⛧ The Storm Beneath (Ambessa X Reader) ✞⛧

Warnings: Emotional tension and miscommunication, Angst with a comforting resolution.

Ambessa Medarda was a woman of great composure. A Noxian General, a tactician, and a force of nature who could command a battlefield without breaking a sweat. But in the confines of your shared life, that composure seemed to crumble whenever a particular emotion clawed its way to the surface: jealousy.

At first, you didn’t notice. Ambessa had always been a little reserved with her affection in public, her sharp eyes constantly scanning the room, calculating. So when her demeanor toward you shifted from warmth to something cold and curt, you chalked it up to her having a bad day.

“Are you all right?” you asked her one evening as she sat at the dining table, her focus locked on the drink in her hand instead of you.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone clipped.

You frowned, tilting your head. “Are you sure? You’ve been distant lately.”

Her golden eyes flicked to you, unreadable and sharp. “Not everything is about you,” she said flatly before rising from the table and leaving the room without another word.

The sting of her words settled deep in your chest. Ambessa was never one for flowery declarations of love, but she’d always treated you with respect, even in moments of frustration. This coldness was new, and you couldn’t understand where it was coming from.

The days that followed were no better. Conversations were short and strained, her responses curt and dismissive. When you reached for her hand, she would pull away under the guise of being “busy.” The distance between you grew, and no matter how hard you tried to bridge it, she seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length.

One evening, after yet another cold interaction, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Ambessa, what is going on with you?”

She barely looked up from the papers she was reading, her expression impassive. “Nothing is going on.”

“That’s a lie,” you said, your voice trembling with frustration. “You’ve been cold, distant, and—frankly—rude. Did I do something to upset you? If I did, just tell me.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might actually answer. But instead, she stood, gathering her papers. “I don’t have time for this.”

And just like that, she walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart sinking under the weight of her indifference.

The breaking point came a week later. You were out at a gathering, one of Ambessa’s political obligations that she insisted you accompany her to. The room was filled with important faces and hushed conversations, but you couldn’t shake the tension radiating from your partner.

You’d been speaking with a diplomat—a kind, older gentleman who’d taken an interest in your thoughts on trade routes. The conversation was light and pleasant, and for a moment, you felt at ease.

But when you turned to find Ambessa, her expression was like thunderclouds. She was watching you from across the room, her jaw clenched, her hand gripping her glass tightly.

When you approached her, the frost in her gaze sent a chill down your spine. “Having fun?” she asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, frowning.

She shrugged, her lips curling into a humorless smile. “You seemed rather engrossed in your conversation. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

The insinuation in her words hit you like a slap. “Are you… jealous?”

Ambessa scoffed, her voice low and venomous. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Her words cut deep, and for the first time in your relationship, you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t understand what I’ve done to make you treat me like this,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ambessa didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling small and hurt in a room full of strangers.

The drive home was silent. Ambessa sat rigidly in the driver’s seat, her hands gripping the wheel tightly. You stared out the window, your reflection a pale ghost against the dark glass.

When you arrived home, you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the door closed behind you, you turned to her. “Why are you doing this?”

She froze, her back to you. “Doing what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing helplessly. “Being cold, distant, and—” Your voice cracked. “And making me feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Ambessa turned slowly, her expression a mix of anger and something else—something softer, almost vulnerable. “You think you’re not enough for me?”

“What else am I supposed to think?” you said, tears streaming down your face now. “You’ve been treating me like I’m a burden, like I’m not worth your time. I don’t understand why.”

For a moment, she just stood there, her broad shoulders tense, her hands clenched at her sides. Then she let out a long, shaky breath and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice low and rough

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden apology. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her golden eyes meeting yours. “I’ve been unfair to you.”

“Why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why have you been acting like this?”

Ambessa hesitated, the unshakable general suddenly looking unsure of herself. “Because I was jealous,” she admitted finally.

Your heart twisted at the admission. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of the way people look at you,” she said, her voice tight. “The way they talk to you, like they’re trying to steal you away from me. I know it’s irrational, but I couldn’t stop it. And instead of talking to you about it, I… lashed out.”

You stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. “Ambessa, no one could ever take me away from you,” you said softly. “I love you. Only you.”

Her shoulders sagged, and for the first time in weeks, the tension seemed to leave her body. “I know,” she said, stepping closer. “But I let my fear get the better of me. And in doing so, I hurt you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted.”

You reached for her, your hands resting on her chest as you looked up into her eyes. “I just want you to talk to me,” you said. “Don’t push me away when you’re feeling like that. I want to help you, not fight with you.”

Ambessa’s hands came up to cup your face, her thumbs brushing away the tears on your cheeks. “I promise,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll do better. I’ll talk to you next time. No more walls.”

You nodded, leaning into her touch. “Good. Because I can’t stand this distance between us.”

She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if she could physically erase the pain she’d caused. “Neither can I,” she murmured into your hair.

For the first time in weeks, you felt like you had your Ambessa back—the strong, steady presence who loved you fiercely, even if she didn’t always know how to show it. And as you stood there, wrapped in her arms, you knew that whatever storms came your way, you’d weather them together.

[qinluna]

cw: codependency. mention of suicidal thoughts, self-harm scars, dysfunctional family. semi-canon compliant to main story — directly references 1-4. reader is gender-neutral. reader is not mc. depressed reader. reader cries a lot. caleb and reader are childhood friends / neighbors.

you’re six years old when the old woman across the street and the boy she was raising on her own give you a safe haven. you snuck out because your parents were arguing for the umpteenth time, and your naive, fearful mind had just wanted some kind of safety. the boy’s name is caleb, and the woman’s called the police because the escalation of your parents’ conflict arises to the point where neighbors can hear it. caleb hugs you for a long time as you cry, giving you an apple plush to cling to.

you’re thirteen when you confess to caleb you thought about dying. you think it’d be an easier way out. you promise you won’t do it—but it’s devastating to him. if caleb had it his way, he would do anything to take this pain away from you. he doesn’t like seeing the girl he loves in so much anguish. the dark cloud that only goes away when he’s around. he wishes you two could just stay together forever. he would keep you safe. he sees faint, blurred scars on your wrists beneath your sleeves, and his heart sinks. he just wants to see you smile.

you’re eighteen, and you’ve both graduated high school. caleb has his prospects, and he’s bound for skyhaven to pursue his future as a pilot. you, on the other hand—lose your friends, and your graduation dinner is ruined by a heated argument among relatives. when you two meet up later that night—caleb decides to take you to a drive-in movie. it’s an older film, with a cliche action plot and comedic gimmicks. but you don’t pay attention to it, for you had curled up into caleb’s side, clinging to him as your body trembled with shaky, quiet sobs. caleb never lets go, grateful that he’s gotten stronger, taller—so he can shield you with his body just like this. neither of you open the snacks or pay attention to the movie. caleb holds you close, kissing the top of your hair occasionally as he murmurs sweet nothings to ease you. he takes you to a diner open all night, treating you to a proper meal to celebrate—punctuating it with a kiss to your lips before he drives you both home.

you’re nineteen when you say goodbye. you’re going off to study at the association’s academy, finally having a reason to leave that godforsaken home. you wouldn’t come back, you tell caleb, and he understands. he’s proud of you.

(but god, he’ll miss you terribly. and you’ll miss him too.)

you’re twenty-three, he’s twenty-four—when you reunite. you didn’t think it was possible. you were a graduated combat medic, sent undercover to deal with a precarious incident similar to the explosion in bloomshore district. (the very same that was caleb’s home. he was there when you came back to visit. he was there—and you were thrown back with the debris. you grieved for days.)

“you passed,” caleb says, the interrogation room’s lights coming back on. you’re horrified, unable to speak. you don’t even struggle against the restraints. your eyes are wide in complete shock, a fear filling your body that you hadn’t felt since you were a child.

he switches his tone from it’s colder firmness, softened to a manner like he was always speaking this way, “did i scare you?”

you still don’t move when he undoes the restraints. you’ve completely tensed up, shivering as thick globs of tears spill from your eyes. you choke out a strained sob, cowering forward as you lowered your head. you wailed like you were going to vomit.

this… was still caleb, right?

the one who spoiled you. the one who cared for you. the one who was the only constant in your life, the one who was your light in a pitch black darkness.

the violet gaze no longer seems to burn as bright like it used to.

“hey, please look at me…” caleb calls to you, bending to one knee to be closer, cupping your wet cheek, “i’m sorry, but it was necessary. i didn’t think—no. i… should’ve known. you were always a crybaby when we were kids.”

he sighs, wrapping his arms around you, squeezing you against him. it does little to ease your anguish. your grief. your anger.

but you still reciprocate the embrace, clinging to and tugging on his uniform. you’ve been through too much. you’ve been robbed of too many things you couldn’t get the chance to have.

caleb is all you had left, and you didn’t want to let go this time. even if it would hurt more to hang on.

“i’m never gonna leave your side,” caleb whispers into your ear. “stay with me. i can keep you safe, i’ll take care of you. forever.”

forever.

with caleb?

that sounds nice.

[jayaury]

Non-Toxic

The slime girl raises a good point, you don't know what licking a purple slime would do.

You know green slimes are poisonous, blues are hallucinogenic, and reds are corruptive. But no one knows what purples do.

So... why not give her a lick?

For science, of course.

Certainly not because you've heard theories that there are some slimes that can entrance people. That their juices send people into a euphoric haze where they'll obey any commands.

Of course not.

It's for science.

For science that you lean in and run your tongue along her wobbling breast.

For science that the world hazes and your head grows light as if filled with purple clouds.

For science that your hypersensitive skin tingles and you moan as her body flows around you, melting your clothes.

Delicious... wonderful... bouncy science.

[httpsvgin]

🦴 ━─ 𝒮weet 𝒞arol͟i͟n͟a͟. 𝜗𝜚₊˚

【 𝒞ho sangwoo & 𝒞hildhoodbsf!reader

. ͏ㅤㅤꉹㅤׅ⠀⁺　⠀⠀ @httpsvgin　　𓈒　 ♱ ❛❜ ， 面爛

　

੭̲᱖　  you hated clubbing, everything about it filled you with dread. the stench of sweat, blinding lights that could send someone to the hospital, obnoxious couples grinding on every surface they could find, the risk of a psycho lacing your drink without even knowing? yeah, it definitely wasnt an atmosphere you wanted to associate with. yet here you were in your friends bathroom against your will while you stared at your attire in the mirror basically regretting your entire life decisions.

੭̲᱖　  a black laced dress clung to your body perfectly highlighting every inch and trace of your curves, stopping just at the flesh of your thighs elegantly yet not to short to where you could look trashy and as though you had no dignity. your legs were covered with a thin pair of dark tights while a pair of matching coloured heel-boots covered your feet, the length of the leather material sat just under your knee caps. finally, you topped off your outfit with a long sleeved leather jacket to cover your bare arms from the cold outside that awaited.

੭̲᱖　  a gasp from behind forced you to jerk your head at the noise to where your eyes met with your friends which were clung to your body, looking you up and down before giggling loudly like a child.

੭̲᱖ “oh, my, god! i didnt even recognise you for a second because of how sexy you look!” a loud squeal echoed around the marble bathroom, your friend showering you with compliments to which you shoed her off, laughing softly through the blush that grew on your cheeks with embarrassment.

੭̲᱖ “the cab is gonna be here in two minutes, pack your shit and get ready to party!” she screamed in a sing-song tone at the word party before scurrying out her bathroom to collect the rest of your friends that sat in the bedroom with wide, smiling faces. you on the other hand grunted quietly, a weird, nervous sensation twisted and fluttered in the pit of your stomach. again, you took a final look at yourself in the mirror before your friend called your name from the bottom of her stairs which fuzzed your thoughts back into reality.

੭̲᱖ grabbing your belongings, you shoved them in the small handbag that you slung over your shoulders and inhaled sharply. finally collecting yourself, your heels clicked against the floor while you followed the voice of your whining friend from the front door. there, you both squished into the backseat of the cab that had awaited outside. this was gonna be one hell of a night.

੭̲᱖　  yeah, it was worse than you could’ve ever imagined. you had been in the club for, what, half an hour? and about seven men have already tried to hit on you. one even instituted for you to be his, and quote, ‘sugar baby,’ to which you kindly assured him you had enough money as you needed.

੭̲᱖　  which wasnt wrong, you were far from poor. graduating tied top of your classfrom seoul national university just a few years back with intent to become a state worthy crime investigator. which now, you were close too, being a well know lawyer and investigator in the south, and at one point earning the badge of koreas first female officer to succeed in law enforcement. your job was where you gained your wealth and fame that surrounded you now.

੭̲᱖　  infact, growing up wasnt always easy. your mother could barely scrape by to afford food on the table every night as your dad was never around to provide for you both, too busy with his long term affairs to even give a shit about his wife and child at home. it was hard watching your mom juggle severely part time jobs at once just so you had a bed to even sleep on. even since you were a child, you promised you magically grow wealthy and provide your mother with the world. a house by the beach, to pay of all her debts, for her to live the rest of her life in peace. it was all you wanted, to see her finally happy.

੭̲᱖　  sadly, she passed the year before you graduated. and since, your independence grew rapidly to where you are now. living in central seoul in a luxury penthouse with degrees and trophies around your apartment complex and money you can’t even count if you wanted to. if only your mother was there to see your achievements.

੭��᱖　  now here you sat in a shitty club, music shaking the floor below you while you slumped against one of the lounge chairs in the corner of your room. to your right, a girl sat atop a boys lap with their mouths crashing against each other and you physically gaged at the loud, wet noises they left out. to your left, a man triple your age slurred in your ear, the stench of alcohol and sweat rinsed his breath which tickled your ear since he trailed his finger along your cheek.

੭̲᱖　  wrinkles seemed to ridden every inch of his face, some of his teeth black and rotten due to his age. why he was in a club you had no idea, because it was clear he was meant to be in a nursing home. yet still, he leaned in to peck your neck and immediately you pressed your hand to his chest with a tight, bitchy smile.

੭̲᱖　  “do you have a lighter?” you leaned in to whisper into his ear, earning a rich chuckle from him. he hummed, riding his hand up your thigh and it made your throat burn with bile at his wrinkled, perverted touch. digging his hand into his blazer pocket, yours followed to his back one as you forced a fake giggle. there, you yanked at the bills that sat tight in his pocket, carefully removing them without him even knowing with a soft glide of your hand along his hip. how delusional of him. smirking, he handed you the lighter and you thanked him sweetly, stepping up from your seat between the cushions assuring him you will be back. you lied right through your teeth to him before your heals clicked against the sticky floor, leaving your jacket to dangle off your shoulders slightly and you shoved the back exit door open with your elbow.

੭̲᱖　  the freezing midnight air hit your skin like a bullet, goosebumps rising comfortably along your arms and thighs as you pressed your back against the wall behind you. with shaky hands you pulled the cigarettes from your jacket pocket, pressing the butt of the cigarette to sit between your lips and rose the flame that flickered from the lighter towards the front of the rolled up nicotine. there, you laid your head against the brick wall, inhaling a mouthful of smoke and fluttering your eyes shut softly. the light that illuminated from the moon glistened against your skin magically, highlighting the raw beauty from your features.

੭̲᱖　  suddenly, someone cleared their throat from beside you. you jumped, coughing rapidly at how much smoke you inhaled on accident. clutching your chest, you coughed harshly against the burning sense that tingled your throat and a figure loomed over you. your cheeks burned, eventually slowing down your breathing to where you cleared your throat, bringing the hand that clutched your chest to rub the back of your neck. slowly, your eyes trailed up the man that had watched the whole thing. his attire consisted of a black suit jacket with matching trousers and a white buttonup underneath, the first two buttons being undone and revealed a slightly toned collarbone. but then you saw his face.

੭̲᱖　  a man, perhaps his late thirties stared back. his features were all so recognisable, his sun tanned skin clear and looked extremely soft under the moonlight. his dark hair looked fluffed and messy, slightly grazing over his eyebrows which had twisted into a frown. a pair of silver lined glasses were protecting his big, brown eyes that seemed to be perched only on you. a vein ran softly along his sharp jaw, lips soft and pressed into a tight line while he stared. you frankly couldnt believe the man standing infront of you. you couldnt draw your eyes from him, not for a second.

੭᱖　  “sangwoo?” your voice was quiet, ushering with disbelief and your lips seem to part open to gape at the man you knew all to well standing infront of you.

੭̲᱖　   he didn’t speak. instead, his hand reached out to take the cigarette that dangled from your lips, your lipstick stained the end before he brought it between his own lips, inhaling sharply. he looked drained, shattered even, his eyes looked sunk and sleep deprived as he tilted his head back the same way you did earlier, exhaling a loud puff of smoke that made his adams apple bobbed in his throat.

੭̲᱖　  “i didnt know you smoked.” the lack of emotion in his tone made your stomach churn. he looked as beautiful as he did all those years ago, even with his obviously aged features and dull words. seeing him raw and live again made sparks of electricity and memories fuzz painfully at your brain.

੭̲᱖　  cho sangwoo, your childhood crush and college fling stood beside you. the last time you raw him was graduation, you both collected you diplomas together infact while his mother cheered along for you both in the waves of people. it made you feel less shit about your own mother not being there to see your amazing moment that you shared with your best friend. you still remember how euphoric it felt to throw your hat into the air beside him. the look of admiration in his eyes as he pulled you both into an embrace, quietly sobbing into your long, black graduation robe. you thought you would never see him after that day as it was also the day you moved to england for your trainee degree. and now here he stood ten years later, not able to take his pretty eyes off you while they took the whole of you in, making you turn into mush under his predatory eyes.

੭̲᱖　   “never pictured you as a club girl either.” he huffed, carefully examining the way you grew red until his eyes.

੭̲᱖　  “yeah, im not.” now it was your turn to act dull despite the warmth and nostalgia that grew in your stomach. “i had no choice but to come im afraid.” you took a step toward him, reaching up to yank the cigarette from his lips and taking it between yours, taking a long drag, tasting his lips along the end of it.

੭̲᱖　  he hummed, pushing his glasses up from the end of his nose and stared ahead. “so you dont have a mind of your own? cant make decisions for yourself, no?” his tone grew sharp and teasing, blinking a few times to hide the smirk that tickled along his lips. his cockiness made you want to smack his stupid face there and then, but you knew better than to give him the reaction you wanted and you brushed it off with another long inhale of the cigarette you both shared.

੭̲᱖　   “but you look..” his voice was low, turning his head against the wall to look down at you from his side. you matched the way he leaned back against the wall, turning your head up and to the side to catch his deepened gaze. it took everything in you not to scream in his face. to beg why he never called. why he just removed himself from your life with such ease. why it took you years to get over him while he seemed perfectly fine without you. why— “beautiful. at least that hasnt changed.” the way he complimented you so casually made you feel like putty under his fingers. every day you are complimented for your beauty, and sure, it makes you feel good about yourself. but hearing it from him was far deeper than that.

੭̲᱖　  “and you look like shit.” humour laced your tongue, offering the cigarette over to him. he scoffed dryly through a low chuckle, his fingers brushing over your palm while he took it from you. his touch. his laughter. his eyes. it felt unreal to be within his presence. and even despite the winter air that cursed the breeze, you felt the warm aura radiating from his body and filling you with happiness.

੭̲᱖　  “glad to know that mouth hasnt changed either.” again, he chuckled under his words, taking a long drag off the cigarette before dropping it to the ground bellow him, crushing it under his shoe. slowly, he lifted himself from the wall, brushing off his expensive looking blazer jacket and adjusting the end of his glasses once again. he was close enough that you could smell the twist of his cologne and smoke that clung to his broad body, a strand of hair falling to cover over his doe eyes. your breath hitched in your throat when he took the coldness of your fingers between his warm ones, using his free hand to adjusting the hair from your face that had been blown by the wind.

੭̲᱖　   the second he stood infront of you felt as though they could last for an eternity, loosing your balance within the soft colour of his eyes you thought you forgot about until now. then, you opened your mouth to speak to which he shushed you immediately, his hand petting the side of your head to feel the softness of your hair below his warm palms and you rubbed your cheek against the softness of his skin that stroked you gracefully.

੭̲᱖　  “once i come back, im going to take you out and spoil you with every ounce of money i get.” his quiet words caught you off guard, one of your eyebrows cocked up in confusion but to sooth the emotion you felt he brought his head to lean his forehead against yours. “i promise, okay. fuck, just wait for me, hm?” the emotion that now replaced his once dull tone made you think for a second that he was about to cry. yet, you couldnt help the way you fluttered your eyes closed at his vulnerability.

੭̲᱖　  “i have some.. business to attend to while im gone. it’s a lot to explain but, uhm, please, just be here when im back.” your name felt raw on his tongue, and hearing his say it after so long was a feeling you couldnt only recognise as yearning. you had so many questions. what business was so important? and what was so desperate about it that he needed to leave so soon? your thoughts could run a thousand miles if they could but then, he pulled back, forcing you to wrench your eyes open to see a piece of paper handed out infront of you, a number written along it.

੭̲᱖　  “my mother lives close by, her stall is just down the road from here.” his eyes grew in sadness, making his look like a puppy with the way they sunk at the mention of his mom. “promise me you will look after her when im gone. please.” the desperation on his tongue made you feel ill, not able to break away from his pleading gaze while his fingers squeezed yours awaiting for a response.

੭̲᱖　  “yes, cho i promise.” you managed to mumble out before his large arms came to wrap around you figure in an instant. his chin rested atop of your head, his palm stroking the back of your hair while you nestled the side of your cheek to press against the hardness of his chest. raw vulnerability reeked the air around the both. so did comfort. the way you could felt him tense below your body sent tears to spark your eyes. you intended on holding onto him a little longer, but it turned he had other plans. pulling himself away, he avoided eye contact with you as he took a few steps back. suddenly, a grey van began to pull up over from across the street and his eyes seemed to be glued to its content. just then, he looked back at you.

੭̲᱖　  “wait for me.” your nickname rolled off his tongue with tenderness, slowly turning his back to you as he walked away. every inch of you body screamed for you to run after him. you spent every moment of your life dreaming about this man and the second you get him back he leaves just as easy as he came. but no, your body refused to move, tears burnt your eyes while you watched him cross the street toward the car that seemed to be waiting for him. he looked back again. this time, face drained of emotion, and then he opened the car door and settling himself inside before the door immediately slammed shut. there you felt the tears break the wall that tried so hard to keep them in, bottom lip trembling as you looked down at the napkin in your palm, your tears wetting the material while you stared at the number written in his messy handwriting.

੭̲᱖　  he left without a trace. and it was safe to say from that day on, you never saw his face ever again.

[sundew199]

Harmless Prank

a/n: you know those videos of kids reacting to their dad shaving off all their facial hair? I thought this would be cute with Reiner 🥰

tags: reiner braun x f!reader, fluff, harmless prank on yours and reiner's daughter,

You recently saw one of those viral videos of a baby reacting to their dad shaving off their facial hair, and it gave you the greatest idea. Your daughter, who was just shy of turning a year old, had only ever seen her dad with facial hair. Even though Reiner's facial hair wasn't thick and taking up his entire face, it was still extremely noticeable when he shaved and after seeing all the reactions from the videos you watched after coming across the first one, you were dying to know what your daughter's would be.

Reiner was so against it at first when you brought it up that night in bed, saying it was mean to prank his baby like that and he already can't stand it when she cries and doesn't want to be the reason she was crying. But you were determined because it was the most harmless prank ever and his facial hair would grow back in no time.

After managing to convince your husband, you waited until the weekend to do it when he was off of work, sitting down on the floor in the living room with your daughter, distracting her with toys so she wouldn't notice her dad wasn't next to her playing. She was insanely attached to Reiner, had him wrapped around his finger the moment she was born and you swore she knew this fact too. Every time she got upset or wanted to be held, she was reaching out to Reiner first instead of you. It was hard not to take offense in the beginning when she was a couple months old, since she was your first baby, but their bond was so damn adorable it was impossible to be upset.

Hearing the sink water shut off, your grabbed your phone, propping it up against the stack of books you had on the coffee table, angling it to face the couch where you set your daughter down, keeping a close eye on her until Reiner started to come out and you could press record. The shuffle of his feet came into earshot and you tapped the red button, grabbing your daughter's attention to get her to look over at Reiner as he approached the end of the couch with a hand towel covering his mouth.

He was giving you puppy dog eyes, already feeling bad knowing she wouldn't recognize him and burst into tears. Yes you'd admit it was just a little mean, but god it wouldn't be the end of the world.

"Who's that baby? Is that daddy?" Gasping and pointing over to Reiner, watching your daughter's face light up seeing him, giggling at the towel over his mouth and clapping her hands once.

Without having to be told, Reiner dropped the towel and forced a smile at his daughter and out of the corner of your eye you could see her expression fall.

Her bottom lip quivered, looking at you and then back to Reiner, her pretty little eyes welling with tears as she realized that man was not her father. Not even a second later and she was wailing, reaching her arms out to you and hiding her face in your neck, and you let out a tiny laugh as you stopped recording and comforted her with pats on her back, holding her in your arms.

"It's still me sweetheart, it's still daddy." Reiner said as he rushed over, trying to get to look at him but that only made her cry harder when she peaked a look. You rocked her as you trying to fight off a grin, Reiner scowling at you with a pout and hands on his hips.

"I told you it was mean."

"Just give her a second, she's never seen you without facial hair."

After about a minute of crying and getting her to calm down, she took another look at goatee-less Reiner, whining and shying away but not crying. Reiner took her from your arms and cradled her like she were a newborn to his shoulder, kissing the side of her head and promising her that it was still him. You rolled your eyes, both of them so dramatic it was humorous.

"Mommy made me shave, I would never do this on purpose to you baby." He cooed, turning back to look at you with narrowed eyes, placing another kiss on her head. Your daughter came up from his shoulder, giving him a look, examining him to make sure that this strange man holding her was her father.

"You are so dramatic Reiner I swear to god."

He shrugged, turning back to look at his daughter and waiting for the final verdict. She giggled and smacked both her hands on his cheeks, smiling wide as she finally recognized him, smacking her little hands repeatedly on his freshly shaved cheeks.

Rolling your eyes again, you opened up your phone and played the video of her reaction, laughing under your breath as those two reunited. Editing the video just a bit to cut out the shaky end, you send it to all your friends and slipped over to Reiner give him a kiss.

[milkteabinniechan]

♡Inspiration; Motivation - Hyunjin

(This is a milk members exclusive + preview 👀 read the entire story here) <- <- <- <-

pairing: artist! Hyunjin x afab! reader

summary: Hwang Hyunjin has hit a creative block. Nothing inspires him anymore and everyone is waiting for his next big piece. He needs a release, he needs to let go. He needs you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, angst, fingering, unprotected sex, rough sex, dom hyunjin/sub reader, public sex, size difference, cum eating(?)

You picked up another tray of hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen and made your way back out to the crowd. Some people were murmuring that the artist has finally arrived and we're moving towards the front to try to catch a glimpse of him. You motioned your tray towards a few people and offered the tiny pastry cakes and puffs to the rich yuppies around you.

Once your tray is clear you decide to sneak off and walk around the gallery for a minute. You stop at one of your favorite pieces, a simple painting of a long-stemmed single tulip. The petals are painted in a deep purple that nearly turns to black towards the middle of the bud. You stare at the mix of purples and greens and nearly forget that you're technically working, you're on the clock and if your boss saw you with an empty tray again then there would be Hell to pay. You were on your last strike as he loved to remind you.

“I didn't think anyone even noticed this one.” A voice lingered in from behind you. You turned quickly to see a man dressed fairly decent, definitely not one of your co-workers or your boss, so you let your shoulders loosen a bit as you gave him a simple smile. “Yes, it's one of my favorites.” You admit, your eyes staying glued to the tulip. The man sidled beside you, both hands in pockets and a smell of scotch and paint thinner soaked through him.

“I have to admit, this is one that I never ended up hating. She's still pretty to me. She never asked for more, just perfectly content with being my little flower.” His voice was raspy and a bit pained as he spoke. You cautiously turned your head to face him. “This is your piece? Why didn't you sign it?” Your finger pointed to the blank corner of the canvas vacant of a signature. The man smiled wide and let out a low chuckle running his fingers over his shaved head. Another practiced motion when his hair used to hang in front of his face. “I didn't sign it because I don't own her. Sure, I painted it. But she was never mine.”

You tilt your head at the painting, picturing not only a flower but a woman too. Was that what the painting was? A beautiful woman transformed? You straighten your head and look from the flower back to the man. “So what inspires you, Hwang Hyunjin?” Hyunjin's eyes light up in surprise and shock. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You're who everyone is here to see.” You smile softly. Hyunjin's face drops in disdain as he glances at the other room full of people. People who are so eager for the next big thing. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“So,” you fasten your hands on your hips and give him a playful expression. “Everyone wants to know, what inspires you?”

Hyunjin's eyes narrow as he steps towards you, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips. “Do you want the answer I give to the magazines or do you want the real answer?”

His smell grows strong the closer he stands to you. An aroma of hard work and pain and chaos that threatened to consume you if he stepped any closer. Your eyes flickered up to where he was. “The real answer.”

[nerdishpursuits]

This show really said Nihil sine Marta. There's no front where she doesn't have to do battle and defend. The sheer amount of pressure she's under right now is overwhelming. If Marta gets out of this without any health issues, I'd be surprised. At least there's a silver lining. For while most of the world is out to destroy her, she finds solace, passion and love in Fina's arms. They are each other's strength and watching them reaffirm their devotion and commitment to each other, time and again, is both heartwarming and inspiring.

I don't think I've ever seen such a well-developed sapphic relationship on TV. It feels like a breath of fresh air and it's a joy to watch it unfold and grow. They’ve planted their flag and defend it, standing tall in the face of so much adversity. How far they’ve come. Does it mean they are unafraid now? Of course not. But they are embracing their truth and choosing each other every day in spite of that fear. Because the love they have for each other is worth fighting for, is worth facing the entire world for.

Speaking of an unfolding narrative. They are truly putting them through the ringer. And it's most likely only the tip of the iceberg. The constant stress they are under is debilitating. Inimicus ante Portas: hurling their accusations, making their demands, snarling in condescension. There's blood in the water and Marta's enemies would only declare themselves sated if they were to witness her downfall, professionally and personally. At this point in the narrative, it's a miracle she's still standing. But like she confessed to Fina: as long as they have each other? Marta will not fall. Therefore, I find myself dreading the kind of blow that would bring Marta to her knees. The kind of blow that would pull Fina asunder too. Would it make for delicious angst? Certainly. Would it hurt? Most definitely.

Nevertheless, while all those fires rage and consume? Marta de la Reina continues on her own quest, one that bestows upon her the title of Great, True Romantic. Endangered too. For hopelessly romantic she is. Judging by the way Mafin is written? I'm inclined to think it's mostly penned by someone who is either profoundly in love, or someone who has loved beyond measure. I also suspect it's most likely a woman / women. For who else bleeds on the page this way? Don't you see, we only have each other. You are everything to me. My strength, everything. I am safe as long as you are safe. There is no turning back, I cannot conceive of my life without you. By your side, I feel that I can face the entire world. The only thing that could undo me is losing you ... I don't want you to suffer and endure humiliation the way that I have. My sole desire is for your safety ... You will not lose me ... I’ve spent half my life adrift, bound to the inertia of others, confined to the shadows, until I found her and she became my light. You cannot ask me to give her up, because you’d be asking me to die while my heart still beats.

It will be an arduous uphill battle but I think Marta's words are also prophetic in nature. There is no turning back for them. The road ahead is together, as one, no matter the sorrow, no matter the cost. Regardless of how much they'll have to wander? Through hope and despair and back again? As long as they have each other? They are not lost.

Speaking of their wanderings through the land of plot. Chairwoman Marta. Pelayo's confession that Marta is his lover, while briefly throwing Don Pedro off the scent, most likely feeds into Carpena’s misogyny. To me he comes across like the kind of man who, deep down, believes women don’t belong in business. The kind of man who thinks women only succeed when they play the seduction card. Which is infuriating for someone of Marta's caliber, who has worked her fingers to the bone to be worthy of her current position. Her intellect, determination and hard work won her the mantle of leadership. Maybe the show wasn't even trying to make this point but Carpena's immediate, sleazy grin upon hearing Pelayo's confession? It irked me because, of course, the only possible way Marta could have gained Pelayo's interest and favor? Her womanly wiles. Points for Pelayo, though. Seems like he's trying to be a good friend and protect Marta as much as he can. And on to rant some more (I'm afraid this post is getting out of hand - for the life of me, I can't seem to keep it short *sigh*)

I’m not one to cuss (much, eh @midniteowlet 😏?) but today it feels warranted. All the idiots coming out of the woodwork with pitch-forks and battle-rams and having lost their intellect, meagre as it is, along the way.

The Merino Bros & their mommy dearest, Pedro and, quite possibly, Tasio? A tomar por cu**.

Marta's face listening to lunacy after lunacy is an absolute poem.

Currently? Marta is the only one making informed decisions that benefit them all. Alongside Damián? She’s the only one who knows how to run the business so they all stand to gain and the workers have job security (I suppose Jesús has business acumen too but his Machiavellian ways leave a lot to be desired)

Which makes it pretty obvious they were going to try and take Marta down. That all these spineless, envious men cannot stand seeing a woman in power. A woman who outsmarts them at every turn and who actually thinks things through.

On the bright side? Should Marta lose the executive chair? I want to see how mama’s boy Joaquin goes running to Marta &. co. later, begging for help, because he’s sinking the business with his arsinine attitude and decisions. I want the Merino to fail so spectacularly they choke on it.

The business with the bathhouse will go up in flames because Joaquin and Luis lack intuition for business. What drives them is an underlying desire for vengeance and a need to satisfy their ego by calling the shots. Competency is not part of their vocabulary. They’re utterly insufferable, terribly immature and are woefully unprepared for what it means to be in charge. Their incompetency, if left unchecked, will prove disastrous for the company.

And then we have Digna. On the one hand? She lived up to her name and acted with dignity, keeping the promise she made Marta and Fina: that she would protect their secret and would never expose them. The fact that she made it clear to Pedro she wouldn't use such harmful rumors to hurt her niece, or the young woman she considers a daughter? It speaks of her capacity to empathize and understand. On the other hand? Her lack of business expertise shows in how she approaches the bathhouse project. She tries to gaslight Marta with talk of family and respect, while showing Marta absolutely no deference or familial support. Digna possesses zero knowledge about running a company. But she has the gall to lecture Marta about it, all because her crybaby sons demand instant gratification and loathe the fact that Marta is in power. The Merino are a sorry bunch and while I feel truly sorry for Gervasio’s demise? If he was as good a business man as his sons? I see why Damián felt he needed to run the company himself (I don’t agree with his methods, of course, but one cannot deny that the Merino family are an executive liability). It also irks me that Digna has the nerve to condescendingly call Marta daughter, while going behind her back and giving Tasio the proverbial knife, urging him to betray his sister. And to think Marta, generously and kindly, wanted to give Tasio a chance. Felt indebted to him, even, and wanted to start anew, as siblings. No matter how they twist and turn his character, he ends up falling short somehow. Or doesn't he?

And since Tasio dearest is next on the block? Much like the Merino brothers? A deplorably mediocre man, crying to Marta about how dependent he is on his wife. For how dare Marta send Carmen on a business trip, which is part of her responsibilities as store overseer, given he cannot function without her help?

Poor Tasio. Who’s going to do the dishes now, who’s going to iron his shirts and cook his meals? Woe be him. I honestly can’t with his level of incompetence and stupidity. To have the gall to launch veiled threats at Marta concerning her relationship with Fina (trying to take credit for piecing it all together while knowing full well it’s Carmen who dropped the ball, spectacularly might I add) and insinuating Marta is playing favorites? The level of idiocy this man possesses is truly astounding. As is the level of self-projection Tasio is doing here. Quite noteworthy.

If he only stopped to think for a minute, he’d realize:

1. Fina is Carmen’s right hand at the store. As such, she has the most experience to help out in this situation.

2. Marta emphasized it’s a temporary solution. Tasio’s entire reasoning here is a case of that aforementioned self-projection: he knows full well he’d show favoritism if he were in charge, which is something he confessed to Carmen he’d do. So Tasio filters Marta’s decision through his own, faulty thought-sieve. Heavens help him. Not to mention he's also easy to manipulate. That moral high-horse the Merino are riding? I can't wait to seem them all trampled into the dirt.

3. Mighty hypocritical of Tasio to claim Fina is being ascended (again, temporarily) due to special treatment, when his own promotion is a case of nepotism (unlike his wife, who Marta ascended based on her competence and hard work - wife, who Tasio never threw his support behind, too jealous of her new position). Same story with the shares Tasio received from Marta. His level of entitlement here? It’s that outlandish and that outrageous.

That being rambled? Because Tasio is often such a narrow-minded, pathetic little man? He might cast the deciding vote to remove Marta as CEO. For while Tasio often wants to best himself? He also remains profoundly petty, terribly misinformed and someone who shouldn't be sitting on board meetings. Were it not for Marta’s kindness and goodwill? He’d only have his father’s name and gratitude, and little else.

And what’s going to be Marta’s thank you for it all? Quite possibly a knife to the back. Should that occur, which it might, I do wonder how Tasio thinks he will fit within the de la Reina family in the aftermath? After all, his display of ''business shrewdness'' would prove ruinous. Even Jesús votes for Marta (because in spite of their differences he recognizes she is smart, would never vote against his family and sees the Merino brothers for the fools they truly are) And that’s saying something. So if Tasio really wants to become a pariah in the eyes of his new family? By all means. Vote with their incompetent adversaries. Ultimately, Damián will be more lenient in forgiving him, I suspect. But Tasio would be proving himself undeserving, uninformed, unreasonable and willfully ignorant. Of course, previews are often deliberately misleading and who knows, another Brutus might be lurking in the shadows. Andres maybe? He's so utterly useless, incompetent and easy to manipulate it's pathetic. If Jesús remains the only brother who amounts to anything? Oh, the laughter.

Sure, things might not go down that way at all. Marta might not lose the executive chair, Tasio might not vote against her while Andres could and Don Pedro could resort to blackmail to remove her from the board. As always, we shall see when the episode airs. But goddamn, these PEEople are beyond exhausting. Marta needs that vacation with Fina and she needs it yesterday.

P.s the last gif on the right? that's also me upon realizing how goddamn verbose this post is. Off to word-jail with me!!!