#been listening to Wouldn't You Like on loop

[maretinelli]

FATAL ACCIDENT

Oscar Piastri X driver!fem!reader

Summary: When Oscar goes to watch Y/n's last race, the last thing he would imagine was that his girlfriend's car would start to roll over in the last laps.

Words: 7K+

Warnings: Established relationship, Oscar and Y/n pilots, accident, blood, bruises, injury, hospital, anguish, coma, but happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, there may be mistakes, I'm sorry. And that's it, cry a little while reading.

MASTERLIST

Y/n was inside her motorhome, trying to close the back zipper of her racing suit while staring at the mirror, but with a concentration on the memories of yesterday.

The zipper resisted, as did the knot that insisted on tightening her chest. Every time she tried to take a deep breath, it felt like the air was getting stuck in her throat. Her hands were shaking, something she couldn't let show on the dance floor.

Yesterday was a tense day for the women at the Formula 1 Academy. One of the drivers ended up flipping her car during her qualifying session, forcing her to end up in the hospital due to her injuries. Not to mention that after that, Yin's teammate had crashed into the wall, but luckily, she came out unharmed.

In her mind, the image repeated itself in a cruel loop: Hillary's car rolling, the tires burning against the asphalt, the dry sound of the impact on the wall. Then, silence. The kind of silence that chilled the blood.

"Hey, my dear? What's going on in your head?" Oscar comes up behind his girlfriend, helping her close her jumpsuit and placing his chin on her shoulder, so he can see in the mirror.

"I was going to say nothing, but...the scene of Hillary spinning on the track yesterday haunts me." She says with a sigh, turning to face her boyfriend.

Oscar gives a small smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know how to explain it...but I don't feel well today, maybe because of everything that happened yesterday...I don't know..." she says softly, with her arms on Oscar's shoulders.

Piastri hadn't seen the accident on the track yesterday, his flight had been delayed and he only arrived at dinner time. But as a Formula 1 driver, he knew very well how his girlfriend felt. The fear of it happening to her too.

"I understand you, and you don't need to pretend that everything is fine. I know how much an accident can affect us," Oscar tries to reassure.

"I just wanted to try to forget that scene for a little while... The sound of the crash, her car crushed and her not responding gives me chills." Y/n sighs and closes her eyes, laying on her boyfriend's left shoulder. "...I'm just scared...I'm scared it'll happen to me too..." she says in a muffled voice.

Oscar shudders.

"Hey, honey! That won't happen to you. I know how great of a driver you are and I know you can dodge any problem that comes your way." He kisses her shoulder. "And what's more! I'm here, I may not be on the track with you, but I'll be protecting you just the same." Oscar pulls Yin to look into her eyes, she smiles in relief.

Having Oscar there was like Y/n was on cloud nine and was on a sedative. She felt safe with Oscar around. And well, Oscar is Oscar. Calm, serious, centered. He's the perfect man for anyone.

"I love you!"

"I love you more!" Oscar pulls Y/n into a kiss before they can leave the motorhome to go to the garage.

The kiss was soft, but full of meaning, as if Oscar wanted to convey a calm that he himself did not have.

When the youngest arrived at the garage, about three engineers started talking at the same time about her car, she just let go of Oscar's hand with a shy smile, he just whispered 'you can go, I'll be here!' before smiling sweetly and watching Y/n from afar, the impeccable overalls hugging her body as she gestured and listened attentively to the mechanics.

Oscar was tense too, but of course, he wouldn't tell Y/n and make her more nervous than she already was. But in the last week, four nights in a row he dreamed about his girlfriend flipping the car too, but the only thing different in the dreams was the setting, each day she was in a different place. Track, road, highway and on the street that gave access to their apartment. All horrible dreams that made Oscar wake up scared and check if Y/n was okay, while she slept soundly next to him in the shared bed of their apartment in Monaco.

He was still lost in thought when Yin came up beside him smiling, "Hey, did you ride the train of thought?" She poked his chest and he laughed.

"Just thinking about where to take you on a date after you win the race," he teases, holding her waist. She blushes shyly, making Oscar laugh. "After all these years you still blush at my flirting?" He teases again.

Y/n rolls her eyes laughing. "Of course, Oscar Piastri, McLaren Formula 1 driver is flirting with me!" She jokes, making them both laugh.

The time had come, the chief engineer of Y/n's car alerted her, asking her to get ready to get in the car and go position herself on the grid. She felt her heart race and Oscar noticed when her smile fell, he moved his hands to her cheeks, making his girlfriend look.

"It's okay! You're going to rock it like always. And I'll be here to celebrate with you in a few hours." He smiles, kissing her forehead.

Y/n took a deep breath, but her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her gloves. The balaclava felt tighter than usual. Her ear muffs were too small that day, as if every little detail wanted to remind her of the pressure of the moment.

Piastri takes her helmet and holds it, waiting for his girlfriend to finish putting on her equipment. As soon as he sees her with everything ready, he approaches and takes the helmet to her, Y/n smiles with her eyes. "Thank you, love."

Y/n puts on her helmet and gets into the car, before any engineer could put the steering wheel in place, Oscar leans over and kisses the top of her helmet.

The kiss on the helmet was a ritual of theirs, a kind of silent amulet that seemed to guarantee that everything would be okay. The muffled sound of the touch echoed in her ear, bringing an inexplicable comfort. To Oscar, it was his way of promising that he would always be by her side, even when she was alone on the track.

He bends down: "Don't worry!! Nothing bad will happen and if it does, I'm here!! I'll always be here for you!" Y/n holds his hand, a little tighter than usual.

Oscar smiles and gives the mechanics permission, already putting his headphones on.

Within seconds, Y/n was pulling out of the garage. Oscar stood in the driveway, arms crossed and staring at the car as it drove away. He felt a pang of emptiness as her figure disappeared around the bend. The roar of the engine sounded like distant thunder, mixing with the pounding in his chest. He knew that now all he could do was wait and hope that his nightmares wouldn't come true.

Y/n was lined up in P3 on the grid, watching intently as the red lights went out, until an alarming sound signaled them to start. The youngest had a flawless start, taking P2 on the first corner.

"Hey Y/n, good job!" His chief engineer says over the radio and Oscar who was standing in front of the monitor, smiles proudly at his girlfriend.

But he still had a twinge of nervousness in his chest, he also knew how unpredictable that sport was.

Over the next few laps, Y/n began closing the gap on the leader, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. On lap ten, as they entered the main straight again, she used the slipstream to gain speed and made the pass on the edge of the corner. The move was clean and decisive, and the team radio exploded with celebration.

"Leadership!! Leadership!!" One of them exclaimed energetically over the radio, making Y/n smile inside the car and Oscar in the garage.

As the race progressed, Y/n began to open up an impressive lead. At 20 seconds behind the second-place finisher, she seemed uncatchable.

The people in the garage were bursting with happiness, while Oscar, with his arms crossed tensely, watched his girlfriend's every move on the television screen. He was happy with her position, but flashes of his dreams began to appear more frequently in the pilot's mind.

Now with only fifteen laps to go and the lead in her hands, Y/n began to feel something strange in the car. At first, it was a slight vibration in the steering wheel, almost imperceptible. She pressed her lips together under her helmet, ignoring the discomfort. But the vibration got worse, especially as she made the turn, feeling the car skidding on the track.

Apparently the engineers hadn't noticed anything wrong, but Oscar, more than experienced in this matter, frowned and tried to alert the garage staff.

"Hey, did you guys see that? Looks like she's having some trouble with the car."

The engineer shook his head, checking the numbers. "Everything looks normal here, Oscar. Maybe it's just steering adjustment."

"No. It's not normal." He pointed at the screen, his tone growing more tense. "Look how unstable the front of the car looks. She never takes turns like that. Something's wrong, you need to tell her."

Oscar was right and before any engineers could make any decisions, Y/n began trying to communicate via radio.

"There's...something...with the car..." Her voice cracks over the radio.

Oscar immediately tried to press the headphones tighter into his ears, thinking that maybe he hadn't heard correctly.

"Y/n, repeat, we're having audio difficulties," the engineer said over the radio, trying to remain calm.

"Something...car..." the voice came out broken again.

Y/n began to feel the car shake uncontrollably, evident on the monitors, and the steering wheel that had previously seemed firm in her hands was now vibrating violently.

"Damn it!" She screamed, trying to steady the car.

Now with only 10 seconds of difference to the second placed rider, Oscar started to get more tense, nervous and sweating cold. It was as if his worst nightmare had come true.

He quickly turns to the chief engineer: "Tell her to slow down..." he tries to warn. "NOW!!"

Most turn to Piastri, seeing the boy turn pale.

"We're trying, Oscar, but she needs to confirm the problem first." The engineer says, pressing the button to try to communicate with Y/n inside the car. "Y/n, can you hear us?...Y/n??" She doesn't respond.

Oscar saw it before anyone else. He straightened, his heart racing. "She's going to lose control!"

Sweat began to trickle down Y/n’s forehead, mixing with the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something was wrong. She knew it. But she couldn’t explain it, couldn’t articulate the words over the radio. It was as if the car itself was collapsing under her control.

"Guys...FUCK!!" The only things they hear on the woman's radio.

That's when it happened. The car swayed violently on the straight, from left to right, before reaching the curve and hitting a wall. The impact was brutal. The metallic sound of the beat echoed through the headphones and across the dance floor. The car bounced off the barrier and, in an instant that seemed to last an eternity, began to roll over. Once, twice, three times, before stopping upside down, with parts of the fairing scattered across the asphalt.

It all happened too fast. Y/n’s world turned upside down—literally. Her seatbelt held her in place as the car rolled over. The sound of metal twisting and glass shattering was deafening. Each roll seemed to knock the air from her lungs as she fought to stay conscious.

Oscar froze. The world around him seemed to move in slow motion as he watched Yin’s car spin through the air. The scream caught in his throat, his eyes fixed on the screen as if he could stop the inevitable. All he wanted was to hear her voice. To know that she was okay.

The garage fell silent. The sound of the crash still echoed through everyone's headphones, and the air felt suffocating.

"Y/N?? CAN YOU HEAR ME? The team leader tries again, but nothing but a hiss comes from the woman's radio. Oscar can feel each second dragging by as they wait for news.

Some engineers dropped their headphones, putting their hands on their heads when they couldn't hear the pilot's voice.

The red flag was waving and paramedics were rushing to the scene of the accident, carrying fire extinguishers and rescue equipment. And that's when Oscar came to his senses, when Y/n didn't move or give any sign that she was okay. The radio was silent, and the broadcast camera showed his girlfriend's helmet tilted. Oscar felt his heart stop.

Quickly ripping the headphones out of his ears — almost breaking them. Piastri starts walking quickly to get out of the garage, until someone grabs him by the shoulders.

"Hey, hey, hey!" One of the engineers holds him back. "You can't go there, let the doctors help!"

"I can't just stand here when my girlfriend is between life and death!" He says angrily because they won't let him leave.

"You don't..."

"YES I CAN!!!" Oscar shouted, running away from there.

The curve that Y/n crashed into was not close to the pits, so Piastri ran for several meters until he managed to get close to some suspicious movement on the track.

Oscar arrived at the scene with his lungs burning and his heart racing. The scene in front of him was a nightmare, the dreaded nightmare he had had in those times: Y/n's car, destroyed, with paramedics and the rescue team struggling to remove her from the wreckage.

For a moment, everything passed in slow motion in Piastri's vision, the seconds seemed like hours and it seemed like people didn't move to help his girlfriend in the middle of those irons.

He comes back to reality when someone runs past with the stretcher and bumps into him.

"Sorry!"

Oscar runs a little further to the accident site: "Y/N!! Y/N!!" he screams, feeling his lungs burn more.

The air burned in his lungs, but he didn't even notice the pain. His legs felt like they were about to give out at any moment, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop, not while she needed him.

The moment he approached, Y/n was being pulled out from under the car and placed on the stretcher. When they took off her helmet, Oscar saw his girlfriend's entire face, bloody, pale and with drops of sweat.

Piastri felt tears fall and his knees give out as he tried to get closer.

One of the paramedics saw Oscar and tried to get him to stay back. Meanwhile, the people in the stands were completely silent, some were crying, others were sitting with their hands on their heads and others left so as not to see the state of the driver.

"Hey, see! I need you to stay back, we're removing her and this could complicate her case!" The doctor says sympathetically.

Oscar shakes his head and tries to walk forward. "She's my girlfriend!"

The paramedic's eyes widened slightly and exchanged glances with the rescue team.

"Well...let's tell the truth then! She is in a very critical condition, but fortunately she is alive. She may have multiple fractures and a concussion." The doctor is sincere and Piastri can feel the ground open up a little more under his feet.

With that, her helmet fell from a stretcher and rolled across the floor until it came to rest at Oscar's feet. The personalized design—her number next to a drawing of her favorite constellation—made him feel a stab in the chest.

He bends down and presses the object against his chest.

A little further ahead, they put the oxygen mask on the woman and walked to the ambulance, Oscar started running again, leaving the paramedic talking to himself.

“Y/N!”

The rescue team holds him by the shoulders. "Hey, hey!" Oscar stops, still watching them carry Y/n unconscious.

"I have to go, it's my girlfriend. IT'S MY LIFE!"

"I understand. But you can't go with her in the ambulance, we need space because of her critical injuries. We're taking her to the nearest hospital." One of them says and Oscar nods in agreement. "Just be careful driving..." The team warns, as it was obvious that Oscar would find a way to get there.

The ambulance doors slam shut with a loud bang that rings in Oscar’s ears like a gunshot. He stands still, his eyes fixed on the siren as it rapidly retreats, until silence envelops him like a suffocating current. He finally moves, stumbling toward the car Y/n had rented for them for the weekend.

The key was in her trailer, along with her purse. Oscar takes everything on impulse and runs out to drive to the hospital.

During the journey, tears ran violently down the driver's cheeks. At each red light he stopped at, memories of Y/n and him flashed through his mind: The sweet smile she gave when Oscar said he fell in love with her every day, how her eyes shone when she was inside a racetrack, their conversations in bed late at night. Everything flashed through his head.

The hospital was lit coldly and impersonally, a cruel contrast to the chaos and heat of his mind. He nearly knocked over the objects on the reception desk as he approached, his words coming out in a rush and jumble: "My girlfriend... accident... Y/n... Is she here yet? Please, I need to know."

He clutched Y/n's bag to his chest as if it were an anchor to reality, leaning on the counter to communicate with the nurse.

"Accident at the racetrack?!" A nurse asks and he nods in agreement. "Yeah, it was about five minutes ago. They took him straight to the operating room." She looks at the system and then back at Oscar. "Is he her husband?"

Oscar hesitated for a split second. He wasn't her husband, but her boyfriend... her boyfriend for years, the man who knew Y/n meant everything to him. Still, this wasn't the time for technical corrections. He nodded quickly, his words choked out in a rush.

"Yes, I am."

"Okay! You can wait in the room next door," she said calmly, while Oscar was shaking and sweating coldly. Before he walked away, she looked at the bag underneath him. "Hey... do you have her documents with you? Just to register them in the system faster!"

Oscar nodded and, with trembling fingers, opened Y/n's bag. He rummaged through it until he found her wallet and the necessary documents. He handed them along with his to the nurse, who quickly entered them into the system. She handed the papers back to him with a comforting smile that he didn't even notice. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her hands still shaking.

"That's right. Thank you."

Oscar mumbled a thank you, tried to smile, but failed miserably. He walked away, heading for the waiting room she had indicated.

The room was white and cold, making Oscar shiver as he sat in one of the hospital chairs. The space was reasonably large, with a space for children to play while they waited for appointments, doctors, and tests. Oscar lowered his head, looking at his girlfriend's bag on his lap.

Trying to distract his mind from the agonizing wait, he opened his bag, thinking about organizing it or looking for something that could help. That's when he saw it.

First, a small folded envelope with her name written in her handwriting. He pulled out the paper and opened it with trembling hands. It was one of the little letters he wrote himself and left for her when he left the apartment early.

"Good morning, my love. I know today is going to be a busy day, but I just wanted to remind you how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make me want to be better every day. I can't wait to see you tonight. I love you - Osc."

Oscar pressed his lips together, holding back the sob that threatened to escape. His hands shook as he flipped through the items in his bag, and he could feel cold sweat trickling down the back of his neck. The air felt heavy, each breath labored, as if fear were squeezing his chest.

Deeper in his bag, he found a Polaroid of the two of them. The photo had been taken at a random moment, on the couch at her mother's house. He was holding her by the shoulder, smiling shyly, while she made an adorable face with her tongue out. On the back, a note written by Y/n: "Our favorite moment: together."

He ran his thumb over the photo, tears falling uncontrollably now. He didn't even try to hide them.

Finally, he found her phone. The screen locked with the wallpaper of a photo taken on a trip to the snow, in which Y/n kissed him on the cheek while he smiled, red from shyness and cold. It was a sweet reminder of how she always made him feel loved, even in the simplest moments.

He leans on his knees and lets the sobs escape his body, while tightly holding the things Y/n kept from them.

"Please...stay with me...stay with me" He said between sobs.

From the counter, one of the nurses gave him a worried look. They were used to seeing suffering there, but something about the young man’s vulnerability struck them. An older nurse approached with a bottle of water, but stopped halfway, hesitating, respecting his space.

The seconds seemed like minutes, minutes turned into hours and the hours didn't pass. Oscar had been in the waiting room for about 5 hours, he had already given news to his family, friends and team, and now he prayed that a doctor would come to bring him good news.

Finally, a man in pajamas and a surgical cap appeared in the large room, looking around and seeing only a young man sitting there. When Oscar noticed, his body sat up straight in the uncomfortable chair.

"Y/n Y/s's companion?" The doctor approaches Oscar.

"Yes, me!" He says, standing up and leaving her bag on the chair, greeting the doctor with a firm handshake.

The doctor took a deep breath before answering, and Oscar felt the ground shake beneath his feet, as if the fate of his life depended on his next words.

"First of all. Mr Pias... Piastri right?" The doctor looks at the file and Oscar nods. "I mean your girlfriend is alive!"

Oscar felt the air leave his lungs at the speed of light. But that crushing sensation was still there, there was something else for the doctor to say and Oscar knew it.

"She is in critical condition. She suffered multiple fractures - arms, ribs and one of her legs and had a severe blow to the head, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury." The doctor said seriously and Oscar felt tears coming back to his eyes.

"Trauma? Is... is it serious? She... she'll wake up, right?" He asks in distress.

"Right now, she's in an induced coma. This is to stabilize her body and allow us to treat her injuries more safely. The good news is that her vital signs are stable, and she's responding well to the first procedures." The surgeon places a hand on Oscar's shoulder, causing the younger man to sigh and release a sob stuck in his throat.

"But she'll wake up, right? She'll be okay?"

The doctor sighs, not wanting to give him false hope, but also not wanting to make him worry.

"It's too early to predict. An induced coma is a controlled procedure, but we need to wait to assess brain damage. Each case is unique, and recovery time may vary. The important thing now is to give her body time to recover."

Oscar nods in agreement, letting the tears fall.

"I know this is very difficult to hear, but the important thing to remember is that she is alive and responding well to the procedures already performed. We will monitor her closely!" The doctor smiles and Oscar wipes away tears. "And a crucial medicine for her is emotional support! She will need you by her side!"

"Of course, of course! I wouldn't dare leave her alone here," Oscar says quickly.

"She is in good hands. The hospital itself is a reference. We will take good care of your little girl."

Oscar held his breath at those words. His little girl. He felt a rush of emotion so strong it almost made him falter. A small, shaky smile escaped his lips after hours of pure tension. Even in the midst of chaos, hearing that felt like a promise that there was still hope.

"She's in a room in the ICU, but we can let you stay with her." The doctor says softly, placing a hand on the pilot's shoulder again, as a gesture of comfort.

Oscar nodded quickly, clutching her bag tightly to his chest as if it were a lucky charm. He stood up, ready to follow the doctor.

The white walls seemed to close in around him, the sound of his footsteps echoing along with the distant murmurs of nurses and monitors. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, gripping it tightly as he stepped out of the elevator and walked behind the doctor. The scenes of her car overturning still made a point of playing in his mind on a loop.

"Here we are. I'll leave you alone. If there's anything, just call a nurse using the button next to her bed, or go to the nurse's station here at the end of the hallway," the doctor says, pointing to the place and leaves, leaving Oscar paralyzed for a moment in front of the door of the room where Y/n was.

He took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of fear and relief. Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The sound of the heart monitor filled the room immediately, the steady rhythm almost reassuring, though he felt each beat like a punch to his chest.

There she was, lying on a bed that seemed enormous around her frail body. Oscar stopped suddenly, the air escaping from his lungs in a silent sob. She was surrounded by wires, tubes, and bandages. Her face was pale, with small cuts and scratches visible, but clean of the blood from before, and her arm and leg were in a cast, supported by a suspended frame.

But it was her. It was still her.

He dropped his bag on the armchair and walked a few steps until he stopped next to her bed, letting the tears fall.

Piastri lightly touches his girlfriend's hand with his finger, afraid of hurting her. "Hey, love..." He whispered, his voice shaking, trying to sound strong, even though he felt like he was falling apart.

He finally let his hand rest on hers, cold to the touch, but still alive: "You're here! You're alive!" Oscar sobs. "I was so afraid of losing you..." He kneels beside the bed and cries. A cry that seemed to have been kept for years.

He let his feelings take over.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Oscar and Y/n were in the office of their apartment, with the computers in the French class and books and notebooks on their desk.

"I want a... umm... croissant and coffee?" Y/n reads with a serious expression.

"You're ordering coffee and croissants like it's a life or death mission." Oscar laughs, holding a book in his hands as well.

The video lesson was already ending, while Oscar and Y/n were still trying to pronounce the first sentence the teacher said.

"Alright, my turn now!" Oscar says and chooses a sentence in the book, he reads it mentally and looks at his girlfriend to try to pronounce it. "Je suis... une baguette?"

Y/n burst out laughing.

"You just said it's a baguette!"

"Well, I'm Australian, I can be whatever I want. Including a baguette." He says amusedly, with a smile on his face as he watches his girlfriend laugh at the next table.

"If it depends on our French, we will die of hunger in Paris.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Piastri house was radiant with Christmas decorations. The yard was lit up, the garlands on the windows, and even Thilly's house, the family's golden retriever, was decorated with lights and a giant red bow on the roof.

In the kitchen, Y/N was helping Nicole, Oscar's mother, prepare dessert for dinner. She was stirring a pot on the stove while Nicole organized the ingredients on the counter.

"So, Y/N, how are you dealing with both of your busy calendars? It must be crazy." Oscar's mom asks.

Y/n smiles "It's busy, but it's worth it. Especially since we make a point of visiting each other whenever we can. We understand that our schedules are tight" she smiles more, looking at her mother-in-law as she walked past her daughter-in-law and placed a hand on her shoulder .

"Hey, I heard something about me!" Oscar walks into the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge.

Nicole laughs and Y/n rolls her eyes smiling, as she turns off the stove.

"I was just saying how terrible you are in the kitchen," Y/n jokes, placing the pan on the table and looking for a serving dish.

Oscar laughs, leaning against the counter,

"But you know, Nicole...he makes up for it with flowers and dinners" Y/n says shyly, looking at her mother-in-law. Who watched the scene in wonder.

Oscar walks up to his girlfriend and hugs her from behind.

"You know what else I'm good at? Choosing an amazing girlfriend." He kisses his girlfriend's neck. "And also..." he whispers something in her ear, making Y/n turn red as pepper.

"OSCAR!!!" She says loudly, afraid his mother might have heard. "Your mother is here!" She hits her boyfriend on the chest and he smiles.

"I didn't see or hear anything!" Nicole raises her hands as she walks around the kitchen, making the couple laugh.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was a quiet night in Y/n and Oscar's apartment. They were on the couch, curled up under a blanket, watching a random movie. The low light in the living room created a cozy atmosphere, and the sound of the rain hitting the window completed the perfect setting.

Y/n had her head resting on Oscar's chest, while he absentmindedly played with the strands of her hair. The movie seemed to be far from holding both of their attention, but neither of them wanted to leave.

"Did you know you snore when you sleep on the couch?" Oscar breaks the silence with a mischievous smile.

Y/n lifts her head, pretending to be offended. "I DON'T snore!"

"He snored last week when he slept here after that long flight. I even recorded it..." He takes out his phone, ready to prove it.

"Oscar Piastri, if you recorded it, I swear I'll make you sleep on the carpet!" Y/n laughs, trying to grab the phone from his hands.

He turns away and pulls her closer, hugging her sideways. "Okay, okay. Maybe I overreacted... But you're adorable even when you're snoring."

Y/n rolls her eyes but smiles. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

"And you're stubborn, but I think I love you anyway." The sentence comes out unpretentiously, but the weight of it hangs in the air for a few seconds.

Y/n freezes, looking at Oscar. He looked relaxed, but there was a slight tension in his smile, as if he was waiting for her reaction.

"Do you... love me?" She asks, with a shy smile and her heart racing.

"I do. Quite a bit, actually." He laughs nervously, running a hand over the back of his neck. "I thought it was kind of obvious, but... now it's there, I said."

Y/n feels her cheeks burn, but she can't hide the happiness written all over her face. She leans in to kiss him lightly, before whispering, "I love you too."

Oscar smiles like a kid who just won the biggest prize in the world. "You know, now you can't complain when I prove you snore."

Y/n laughs, hugging him again. "You ruin all the cute moments, you know that?"

"Ah, but you love me anyway."

They kiss again, while the movie continues to fade into the background, as does anything else that wasn't the two of them at that moment.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

They were at a racetrack while Oscar was training with the McLaren team. It was the end of the day, and only the team was in the garage. That weekend Y/n managed to travel to see her boyfriend.

"Hey, do you want to train with me?" Oscar asks, holding out a helmet in front of her.

She widens her eyes and smiles.

"But with what car?" She picks up her helmet, excited about the idea.

"You can go with mine, Lando lent me his!" Oscar says smiling.

"So, ready to get your ass kicked?!!" Y/n smiles, putting on her helmet.

"Keep dreaming, princess!" Oscar sighs and kisses her helmet. "I'm a Formula 1 driver."

"Honey, you may be an F1 driver, but I'll be your boss here on the track when I win." She smiles mischievously.

After deciding to do three laps and complete them, Y/n arrives first at the garage, getting out of the car and laughing, while taking off her helmet and waiting for Oscar.

30 seconds later, he arrives in the garage behind her.

"Who really got beat up?? OSCAR PIASTRI!!! She screams, standing next to the car as Oscar gets out of his teammate's car.

"Calm down, honey! I was going slow so as not to hurt your ego." Piastri smiles, approaching his girlfriend.

The engineers began to put away the equipment and cars.

"Of course, of course! And I'm the Queen of England!" Y/n jokes, tossing her hair back.

Oscar rolls his eyes with a smile, placing his hands on his girlfriend's waist and pulling her in for an unexpected kiss.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was an F1 Academy event, where the Y/N team invited McLaren to promote the partnership. Oscar and Y/n crossed paths for the first time, in the hallway near the stage, as they were preparing to go into an interview with the teams.

"Hi, you must be Y/n Y/s, right? I've heard a lot about you!" Oscar comes up behind the woman, making her turn around and smile, while adjusting the microphone in her ear.

"Hey, I do!!" She sighs and shakes the hand Oscar had extended. "I hope I heard good things!" She laughs.

"Yes, only good things," he smiles. "By the way, Oscar Piastri!"

"I heard about you too. Great race last time, and congratulations on winning the GP. It was amazing" she smiles, seeing some people asking for them to come on stage.

"Thanks. But from what I've seen, you're not far behind either. The F1 Academy has a rising star."

Y/n smiles shyly, while picking at her fingernails.

"If that means you'll be nervous competing with me one day, I'll take the compliment."

Oscar looks at her with a twinkle in his eye: "We'll see who gets nervous. But I think I'll enjoy following your journey."

"Only if it doesn't get in your way." Y/n lets out a small laugh.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The weeks had passed, and Oscar was still by Yin's side in the hospital. Nicole had taken a flight a few days ago to help with her daughter-in-law, telling Oscar to rent a hotel room to rest while she took care of the young woman.

Oscar was a little doubtful at first, but he trusted his mother a lot and knew that whatever happened to Y/n in the hospital, she would call him immediately.

At the moment, he was walking down the hallway to her room, after having spent a few hours in the hotel room trying to rest and taking a hot bath.

He had some of Yin's clothes in the suitcase he had brought, along with some take-out snacks he had bought at the market next door. When he opened the bedroom door, he saw that there was empty, without Yin's bed with her and without his mother. He began to panic, until Nicole came out of the bathroom.

"Mom?? Where's Y/n?" He says, placing the suitcase on the armchair and feeling his heart race.

"Calm down, son," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey calm.

"The doctors came to get her to run some tests. They said she's responding well to the medications and procedures and..." She hesitated, but a slight smile lit her face. "They said she could wake up from her coma at any moment."

She was going to wake up. Certainty took hold of Oscar, making him sigh in relief and let a few tears fall.

They stayed in the room talking, while they waited for the doctors to bring Y/n back. And when they arrived, they brought good news for the family. Y/n no longer needed so many tubes attached to her, and the fractures were progressing well. Oscar smiled, when he saw that his girlfriend now only needed an oxygen tube to help her breathing.

All those wires attached to her made Oscar's stomach turn.

"I'm going to rest a little and call her family to tell them the good news. If there's anything I'll be downstairs at the reception." Nicole said smiling at her son, while Oscar pulled the armchair as close as possible to Y/n's bed.

"It's okay, Mom! Thanks for staying with her...for everything, really..." Nicole reaches over and kisses the top of her little boy's head.

"Anything for you guys, I love you," she says, walking out the door and closing it.

He turned to look at her face. For the first time in weeks, Y/n looked at peace. Her face, once marked by bruises and swelling, now had only small, almost invisible scars. He smiled, taking her hand and caressing it.

"I heard you brought good news, you know?" he began in a soft, almost whispered tone. "I can't wait to see you awake and tell you how much I love you... But you already know that, right?" He chuckled, remembering how she always made fun of his nervous manner.

Oscar sighs deeply, before starting to talk to her. Even though she didn't answer, he knew that Y/n was listening to everything around her.

"You know, I was remembering the bedtime conversations we had... There was one time when you started talking about kids. At that moment, I almost panicked, thinking you wanted them now. You laughed so hard at my expression that I almost cried with relief." He smiled as he remembered. "You said it was something for the distant future, but you liked to plan things. And then you asked me if I liked the idea of having little knots running around. I said yes. That was the day I fell in love even more for you. That smile you have... sweet and bright... makes me want everything with you." He looked at her face. "Remember that day?"

For a second, he felt pressure on his hand. As if someone had squeezed it. His eyes widened and he looked at his girlfriend's hand, which he was holding.

"Y/n?? Honey!!" Oscar says, now feeling and seeing her hand move. "Honey, I'm here!! I'm waiting for you!" She squeezes his hand again, making tears fall down Oscar's face.

That was when she coughed, breaking the silence. The cough was weak, but the sound made Oscar jump up. The oxygen tube was in the way, and she looked uncomfortable.

Oscar acted quickly, running to the door and calling for the nurses and doctors, his heart racing with excitement and nervousness. The room began to fill with professionals, while Oscar stood in a corner so as not to disturb them, feeling that from that moment on, everything would be fine.

Y/n was awake while the neurosurgeon did some tests and questions to her, and she answered with the right answers. Before leaving, the doctor looks at Oscar, smiling friendly and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, she's awake!"

Oscar lowers his head, smiling and hiding his tears. "Yeah, she's awake!" He smiles. "Thank you," Oscar thanks before the doctor leaves the room with the nurses. He approaches slowly, as if he still can't believe she's there, awake. A living, breathing Y/n, looking at him.

The youngest sees the pilot approaching her bed with a smile, taking her hand, the one who had moved in the coma moments before.

"Hey honey!" He smiled, letting the tears fall.

Y/n, always the jokester in the relationship, frowned and pulled her hand away slightly, stifling a laugh. "Who are you?"

Oscar froze. For a second, the world around him seemed to disappear, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. His mind went into a panic, searching desperately for something on her face—some clue, some sign that this was a joke.

Until he heard it. A faint, drawn-out laugh, but so familiar that it made his heart stop for another reason.

"Hey, honey, I do know you. I was just messing with you." Y/n smiled, now squeezing his hand tighter, her eyes shining with a humor that only she had.

"Do you want to scare me to death?" Oscar let out a deep sigh as he smiled and squeezed her hand.

She smiled tiredly: "Oh stop, I knew you could handle it, Piastri."

Oscar can't stop smiling, approaching and placing a hand on her face.

"You have no idea how scared I was all these days. Your voice cracking on the radio, your car flipping over countless times, the doctor's news that you were in a coma. I thought I was going to lose you... I was so scared..." He whispers, his voice thick with tension, but relieved that she was okay now. "I stayed by your side every day for the past few weeks... I was afraid that I would go to rest and you would be gone..." Oscar cries, lowering his head.

A few tears fell from Y/n's face as well.

"That's why you have that zombie face, you haven't slept in days!" she says to lighten the tense atmosphere between them.

Oscar lifts his head and laughs, "Yeah, I couldn't sleep peacefully while you were here!"

Y/n smiles without showing her teeth. A tired smile, but that same sweet smile that Oscar loved.

"It all happened so fast..." she begins telling her story. "The radio started to fail, the steering wheel wasn't as stable on the straights and suddenly I found myself face to face with the curve, I tried to brake but when I realized it, the car was already in the air and flipping over. I only had a few more seconds before I passed out, and in that time I could only think about you... I could only think about how to get back to you. And then everything went black" She says, crying softly and Oscar caressing her cheek, and wiping away the silent tears.

"But hey, you're here now. You found a way to come back to us."

Y/n smiles, nodding in agreement.

"But, you know... even when I was unconscious, I heard you. Every day. I heard you calling me, telling me that I was strong, that I was going to be okay."

Oscar's eyes widen, smiling excitedly: "Did you hear me?"

"Yes. I heard you telling me about all the moments we spent together, and how you wanted me to come back so I could continue living by my side." She smiles, now holding her boyfriend's face. "And you know... I also remember that night when I brought up the subject of children!" She smiles, making Oscar laugh.

"Always scaring me half to death" Piastri smiles.

A little light in Oscar's mind turns on, signaling that now was a good time to reveal what he had been thinking for so long.

"Y/n... I don't think I've ever said it in so many words, but... I love you. Not just in a simple way, but in a deep way, that takes my breath away and makes my heart ache just thinking about losing you." Without realizing it, he puts his hand in his coat pocket, holding a small velvet box. "And after everything we've been through these weekends and in all our relationship history, I don't want to wait anymore, I don't want to wait for the right moment, I don't want to spend even one more second away from you..." he places the ring box in front of his girlfriend, Y/n feels her breath catch in her lungs, almost asking for the oxygen tube again. "I've been carrying this in my pocket for about 5 months, every time we travel and go out together, thinking that there would be the right moment to ask, but here and now, I feel like it's the best moment we have, because I don't want to be away from you anymore. Y/n Y/s, will you marry me? Be my partner in all the curves of life, in all the ups and downs?" He kneels down, opening the box and showing the engagement ring.

Y/n felt the tears fall from her face, if it was the coma, she didn't want to wake up. Because it was the most beautiful dream she could ever imagine having in her life, until Oscar entered her and messed everything up for the better.

"Oscar... do you have any idea how much of an impact you have on my heart? Literally, because right now I think it's going to need a defibrillator." Oscar laughs at his soon-to-be-engaged girlfriend's comment. "Now, seriously... proposing to someone while she's got her arm in a bandage, her hair in a bird's nest and she's on a life support machine? Is that how you want me to remember this moment?"

Piastri smiles with tears in her eyes: "I want you to remember how much I love you. Because even so, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And because I can't go another second without knowing that you will be mine forever."

Y/n takes a deep breath, letting the tears fall: "Oscar Piastri, you are completely crazy... and I accept it. Of course I accept to marry you!"

The pilot feels the air return to his lungs, smiling broadly and carefully approaching to place a soft kiss on the bride's lips. Then, he lovingly slides the shiny ring onto her finger.

She looks at the ring, and then at her fiancé, with a genuine smile on her face before saying.

"You know you're going to have to ask me again when I look halfway decent, right?"

Oscar laughs, "Okay. I promise to ask you every day, just in case."

[sonicranger1]

WHAT'S YOUR FAV SONG IN EACH SAGAAA IN EPIC??

ok i'll calm down. i got rlly excited when i saw ur into epic. it's actually my fav musical and jorge is definately my favourite musician

HI YES I'M OBSESSED AND PLS BE EXCITED IN MY INBOX 👍

Anyway ahem on to my favorites....

I honestly wasn't expecting to get so into Epic considering I'm actually not that into musicals (I'm very picky when it comes to songs even if I don't have a preference/i listen to most genres) BUT HHHHHSHSHSHWHS IM SO IN LOVE, ALL THE SONGS R SO GOOD

[synthshenanigans]

Finally has been a full year since I started listening

Fuckin hate that guy eugh

[pseudowho]

Motherhood had altered your 'turn-ons'; not that you lusted after mankind as a whole-- Kento was enough.

His cologne, split with the smooth tang of sweat on work-ripened skin. His hands, alternately gentle and rough, peach-handling or blade-wielding. The authority only the world saw; the authority only you felt.

Dressed-up, dressed-down, undressed, dressing you down, undressing you. Breaking you only to reform you with gold, tied with red thread, whispering you to completion in the dark sacred night.

So (you corrected yourself, as you watched Kento jog after your daughter at the indoor play centre) motherhood had not altered your turn-ons; it had added to them. Stacking high now, you considered the tower of your adoration was just as likely to be stable, as unstable; its endurance or toppling entirely at Kento's mercy.

The arrival at soft-play was a sensory nightmare-- one of many you could tolerate as a mother when you wouldn't have, before.

Obnoxious children's music blared, cut by screams and shouts and cries and calls and whirls and swirls of kids darting and weaving, watched and unwatched, by helicopters or the disinterested. The cocktail was potent, spiked. Your headache started behind your left eye.

Kento saw you. He was unfairly loaded at his own insistence, with change-bag and snack-bag and car keys and your daughter, planking and chattering, a possessed surfboard beneath his arm.

"Sit down-- have a coffee." Kento rumbled, low and slow, unclipping his watch into your cupped hands as you began to argue. "You've had her all week. You need a break."

"You've been at work all week, Kento, you need a break--"

"Don't argue. You know it's not the same. Sit down. Have a coffee."

He lied to you for your benefit; you could feel the bone-deep weariness of him, surely needing a day of sofa-bound naps over a day of childrearing. Alas; parenthood. And he would continue to take bullets for you, even to his own detriment. You knew this. You had planned ahead for this.

As you peered down at your phone, smiling at an eagerly awaited reply, your daughter piped up, bouncing on little toes, her pigtails bouncing too.

"'lide, daddy. Let's go fast. Faster. Race you."

Kento hummed, smiling. "Slide, you mean?"

"I said it. 'lide." Your daughter moved to dart to the towering play area, a flash of lightning into a maelstrom, and you caught her. Kento was distracted, looking into the swarm of other peoples' children, oddly, as he looked at a swarm of Curses. You whispered into your daughters' ear as Kento slipped his boots off.

"Hey, missus, listen."

Your baby girl perked up, sweet and conspiratorial, goofy-teethed and dimple-cheeked, whispering back.

"What is it, mummy?"

"I've got a surprise for daddy. So don't tell him...come here, mummy needs to whisper."

Lips at an ear; tiny hands clasping over a mouth, fizzlepopping with excitement. A long finger against lips; a little finger against lips. A secret pact.

"Are you ready, young lady? I'll get you in three...two..."

Kento reached down for your daughter, his hands clawed, a wolfish grin on his lips. Your daughter knew what it meant; she shrieked with panicked laughter, bolting. The monster formerly known as 'Daddy' dashed after her.

The coffee was shit; you didn't mind, instead hyperfocused on how Kento and your daughter would dip out of sight into the rainbow maze, only to reappear minutes later, with Kento looking more ravaged each time.

On the first loop round, Kento looked unfazed, unruffled, still clipped in his t-shirt and jeans. You simply admired the sultry half-smile he offered you, and the cling of fabric to his thick biceps, before he swept after your daughter again.

On the fifth loop round, flicks of hair escaped over Kento's forehead, the veins on his arms prominent from throwing and tumbling and monstering. He panted, his muscle so much heavier to carry than your birdlike daughter's personal load. Kento's playful growl, running after your giggling daughter, was deeper; huskier. You squirmed, sipping your shit latte.

On the eleventh loop round, a fine sheen of sweat misted Kento's forehead, a flush dashed on high cheekbones. His broad chest heaved, and he stretched his arms back, cracking his neck from side-to-side, with a groan usually heard only when he exerted himself above you, for less wholesome pleasures.

With furrowed brows, Kento prowled the bottom of the slide, and your daughter shrieked, scrabbling to get away from him as he lunged. Your daughter was bicep-curled up to Kento's face, laughing uproariously at his ferocious tummy-raspberries, before being set free, once more, for the hunt. You could not cope, aching, desperately hoping you had the energy left to sweat for him at the end of the day.

By the twenty-first? twenty-third? twenty-fifth? loop round, Kento jogged to a heavy halt, his shoulder blades taut as he bent double, hands braced against his own knees. You heard him panting, cursing under his breath, one long rusty groan. It was all too much-- Kento needed a break. You were unhinged and unsupervised. Surely there had to be some relief--

"Yo, Mrs.Nanamin! Am I late?"

A vision in peach, Yuuji flopped into the chair opposite you, with hands in his pockets and man-spread with a square-jawed, boyish grin. He stood taller than Kento, now, a full-grown man...but still shrunk beneath Kento's chastisement and lectures.

"Right on time, Yuuji. Are you sure you don't mind? It's all a bit..." You looked into the raucous soft-play, searching for words, "...feral."

Yuuji beamed, ruffling his own hair and kicking his shoes off. "Nah. I was gonna go to the gym anyway, but this seems more fun as workouts go."

You called out to your daughter as she reached the bottom of the slide, and Kento looked up, sweating and exhausted. "Baby! Your big brother's here!"

A gasp of thrill from your daughter, and Kento was all but forgotten by her as she pelted towards Yuuji instead, leaping into his arms. She slapped his scrunched cheeks, aggressively overjoyed.

"Big brother-- big brother-- big brother--"

"Yeah yeah, little sister, little sister-- c'mon squirt, I'm gonna getcha! Hey-- Dad--- uh, Nanamin! Gotta go!"

Kento watched his children run away with dewy eyes, his body still thickened by exercise and heavy breaths. You bit your lip as Kento approached, eyes half-lidded as you drank him in. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he gulped back water and gasped, husky with relief.

"God, I love that boy." Kento rumbled.

You melted to see Yuuji reach the bottom of the slide with your daughter on his lap. "Yeah...me too."

"He's saved my life...three times, now."

You laughed, your eyes dipped, tugging Kento to you by the hem of his t-shirt and beckoning him down with one curled finger.

"Think you'll still have some energy later?" You whispered, your breaths mingling with promise.

Kento's eyes narrowed, glimmering, his nose kissing yours. "For that? Always."

[ur-humble-overlord]

going to spend my evening writing drafts of angry messages to send to my supervisor and imagining quiting until i feel better about the fact i was forced to abandon my favorite part of my job

[anistarrose]

I'd like to propose a dark horse candidate for the most interesting line in The Book of Bill. And it's this near-unreadable, seemingly one-off joke from the "Skin" page:

[ID: tiny text reading: "Help! This is not Bill Cipher. My name is Grebley Hemberdreck of Zimtrex 5. I'm one of thousands of beings Bill has devoured over trillions of years whose souls are now trapped inside him. You have to free me! It's horrible in here. He just keeps playing the song "Good Vibrations" by Marky Mark on an endless loop. Please, please, this is not a joke! The Zimtrexians were once a proud and mighty people, but now our spirits long for release from this..." End ID.]

Okay, so Bill devours souls who then live out a horrible existence inside him. That's just some typical and expected Bill behavior, right? Nothing to be shocked by? Maybe not, but one thing jumps out at me... and of all things, it's the way that Bill keeps playing that Beach Boys parody (correction provided by @fexalted: no, not in fact a Smiley Smile parody, but a real song!) on loop.

Because in The Book of Bill, there's a recurring motif of characters playing music for a very specific reason: to repel an unwanted presence inside their head. This is what Elias Inkwell, and later Ford, did with the "It's A Small World" parody — they tried to keep Bill out of their brains. Or, metaphorically... to drown out his voice.

[ID: a Journal 3 page with a cassette taped inside. It's titled: "The World Is Small Ever After for Always." Ford writes: "If it's war you want, it's war you'll get! If you want to torture me? I'll torture you back!" End ID.]

That doesn't necessarily mean that Bill finds the voices of devoured souls to be troubling, let alone downright haunting, does it? Well... not quite on its own. But there's a "color" code on the page about TV static that says a lot:

[ID: a code consisting of colorful squares, translated to letters that spell out: "he never sleeps he never dreams but somehow still he hears their screams." End ID] (screenshot courtesy of @fexiled)

The context of the page implies these "screams" come to Bill especially when he listens to TV static, and the broader context of the book implies that these are the screams of his destroyed home dimension, Euclydia. Therefore, not necessarily those of the souls he devoured, from Zimtrex 5 and possibly other dimensions.

Except... do those two things really have to be mutually exclusive?

The beings that Bill devoured were accumulated over "trillions" of years, plural, according to Grebley. In Weirdmageddon 1, Bill claims to have resided in the Nightmare Realm for precisely "one trillion" years. So the "devouring" habit probably extends back even further than his time in the Nightmare Realm...

Enter @acetyzias, pointing out a very conspicuous word — and one of the only uncensored words — from Bill's description of destroying his home dimension:

[ID: the word "mandibles". End ID.]

Oh, and how does Bill describe the "monster" that destroyed his home to Ford, when Ford asks about revenge?

[ID: Journal excerpt reading: "Sixer, it would eat you alive." End ID.]

For a long time, Bill's destruction of his home has been associated with fire, even when the story's told by Bill himself. But through the way the book characterizes Bill's guilt — and characterizes how the consequences of what he's done remain lurking deep inside him — I think The Book of Bill lays out the hints for another motif: devouring.

And, well, when it comes to how Bill destroys things... it wouldn't be without precedent.

[ID: screenshot of Bill in Weirdmageddon 3, taking a bite out of the Earth. End ID.]

[subbmissivesuccubus]

I don't know if this kink has a name but I am just obsessed with super casual boob play lmao

Also!!?? Thank you guys for helping me reach 2K followers! It's so exciting and i've been having so much fun writing and reading the smut on this website. Here's to many more stories which hopefully give you the tingles <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, so that's the groceries we need for this week."

"Mmm."

"Oh, don't forget to buy flowers! It's my moms birthday tomorrow."

"Mmm."

"Are you even listening?" you asked, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at your boyfriend, the man simply staring at you.

"Mmm."

"Ok, so that's a no." you said, rolling your eyes before snapping your fingers in front of your boyfriends face, the man jumping and blinking a few times as he was brought back to reality.

"Can you pay attention now?" you asked sternly.

"Sorry. I was too busy staring at your tits." he said honestly, making you sigh. There he goes again with his very obvious boob obsession, your man having a clear fetish for your breasts.

"Well, if you continue to ignore me, you won't see my boobs for a week."

"Or, you flash them to me now, I promise I'll remember every single word you say."

"Oh my God."

"Come here, baby. Come here." he begged, hands reaching out to quickly grab you by the hips and drag you forward, his nails digging into the fabric of your skirt as he all but manhandled you onto his lap, smiling at you as he got your legs to straddle his waist.

"You're a degenerate." you snarled as you placed your hands on his shoulder, more than familiar with this particular song and dance.

"I'm your degenerate. And besides, this is your fault you know." he said, casually fisting the hem of your t-shirt before pulling it up, "If you didn't have such perfect titties, I wouldn't be like this!"

"So you weren't obsessed with boobs before you met me?" you questioned, allowing him to tug the t-shirt upto your chin, the man greedily looking at your bra covered breasts. Not having the patience to take the shirt off of you completely, he simply pulled it over your head so it looped around the back of your neck, your arms still in the sleeves but he didn't care as all he wanted was access to his favorite part of you.

"Of course not." he said confidently as he all but face planted into your cleavage, groaning in delight as he pushed his face in as deep as he could go, "I only got obsessed when you came into the picture."

You huffed, trying to fight the blood rushing to your face and between your legs as you fisted a hand through his hair, tugging at it a bit as you got his attention:

"Are you going to listen to me now?"

"Mmhmm." your boyfriend groaned, nodding a yes against your boobs, truly happy being surrounded by your plump flesh. Sighing, you once again told him what he needed to buy for groceries, allowing him to grope and kiss you wherever he wanted. His tongue ran over your skin, huffing and humming in response every time you asked him if he was listening.

He soon pushed your bra up as well, too eager to bother unhooking it as he placed it against your collarbone, the elastic of the band digging into your skin and making your tits look even more delicious than before. He opened his mouth and took a nipple in, closing his eyes as he started suckling gently, his arms wrapped around you and pulling you in closer.

"H-Hey..." you moaned, gripping his hair tighter as he suckled on you, "It's getting late. You need to leave before the stores close."

"Mmhmm. I know." he muttered against you, tongue coming out to flick at your nipples a few times before he moved to the other breast, giving her the same treatment, "Just- fuck- give me a minute."

You sighed, jumping as you felt his hands move down to your ass, taking greedy gropes of your butt as he lost himself in the sensation of your breast in his mouth.

Yeah, you were not getting your groceries today.

~~~~~

You slipped away from the group of friends in the living room to your bedroom, wanting to get your phone which had hopefully finished charging by now. As you were checking your phone and responding quickly to a few messages, you suddenly felt a hand on your waist that swiftly moved upwards and groped your right breast.

"Eh-hey!" you hissed softly, head snapping back towards your boyfriend, his touch so familiar that you instantly knew it was him, "Cut it out! We have guests!"

"I know but I just need one suck, ok?" he asked even as his other hand came up to start unbuttoning your shirt dress, "I'll be super quick, I promise."

"You- ah!" you squealed as he got the buttons undone enough to expose your bra, his fingers digging into the cup of the right side to pull it down, revealing your bare breast to the crisp air. He turned you around and quickly bent down and took the nipple into his mouth. Your head kept snapping between him sucking your nipple and the door, on edge as if anyone walks in, it would be very obvious.

Your man groaned as he suckled on your nipple, eyelashes tickling your skin as he closed his eyes. The sound of the TV and chattering was loud enough to thankfully drown out his groans, your boyfriend suckling you so hard it made your toes curl.

"Wh-you-" you hissed as his hand quickly pulled down the other cup of your bra and exposed your other breast, "You said only one!"

"I know but I can't not suck her too!" he protested, giving your left nipple a greedy lick, "she'll get jealous!"

"What the fuck are you talking abooouuttt!" you gasped as he suddenly took the nipple in and sucked on it as well, just as vigorously. You stood there for a few seconds, allowing your maniac of a boyfriend to suck and feel you up before he finally pulled away.

"Just what I needed. Thank you baby." he said, kindly helping you stuff your tits back into your bra and right your dress, giving your tits a final squeeze before he walked out of the room, leaving you a frustrated mess with your nipples tingling.

What a menace.

~~~~~

It was movie night, one of your favorite ways to spend time together. It was always a treat to just relax with your boyfriend, put on a random movie, eat popcorn and talk.

And of course, he also loved that he gets to play with your tits the whole time.

You huffed as your boyfriend pulled you onto his lap, his legs spread wide to accommodate you between them. Bowl of popcorn in hand, you munched away at the treat even as your man slid his hands up your shirt, aiming for your breasts.

"Ew, why are you wearing a bra?" he asked, clicking his tongue as his hands got in contact with the soft fabric.

"Sometimes I like having my boobs supported by something, ok? Fucking sue me."

"You don't need a bra to support your tits when you have my hands. I'm taking it off."

Before you could even protest, your man slid his hands to your back and unhooked the bra masterfully, practically an expert at it at this point. He was about to push the straps down your arms and pull the bra out from under your shirt but then he realized- why are you wearing a shirt? You might as well be topless as he was going to play with your boobs the whole time anyway.

So with your shirt and bra tossed onto the floor, you tried your best to focus on the movie playing on screen even as your boyfriend happily groped away at your tits. Ample flesh spilling out between his fingers, he squeezed you like a toy- like your tits were something he could use to alleviate stress. Occasionally, he'd flick his fingers over your nipples, working them up to stiff peaks before gently pinching them between his thumb and index finger. He'd place his hands underneath your breasts, cupping them before he bounced them up and down, loving the feeling of your heavy flesh landing on his palms, the ripple of your breasts on impact instantly making his cock hard.

And of course, as usual, once he was done playing with his hands (which was practically an hour long activity), he'll move onto his mouth. Your body automatically moved along with him as he lifted you up a bit higher onto his lap, looping an arm over his shoulder so he had the space to lean down and take a nipple into his mouth.

"Y-You're not even watching the movie, are you?"

"Mm-mmm" he responded, shaking his head no against your breast, his response making you shiver. You rolled your eyes and continued to watch the movie, failing at it even before he started sliding his hand into your pants.

~~~~~

Of course, your boob obsessed boyfriend can't sleep unless it's on said boobs.

"Take it offfff!" he whined, wrestling with you as he harshly tugged at your shirt.

"It's cold!" you protested as you tried to pull the fabric back down over you, "I'm going to freeze!"

"I'll keep you warm! You know the rules- no clothes in bed."

"You're wearing clothes!"

"Yes but I don't have a pair of delicious tits that are just begging to be suckled!"

"Oh my God- fine, how about this?" you asked, slapping his hand away from your shirt before you pulled up upto your chin, flashing him your bare boobs, "Just get in here and I get to keep the shirt on."

"...Why didn't you just say so?"

You grunted as you were tackled, pushed to lie down on the bed as your boyfriend landed on top of you, face first into your tits. You pulled your shirt over his head, covering the dopey smile on his face as he used his hands to push your tits against him, shaking his head from side to side as he motorboated you.

He thankfully still had some sense to pull the blanket over the two of you and you were able to dim the lights, whipping your phone out so you can get some screen time before you went to sleep. You felt wetness on your left nipple, your boyfriend finally done with shaking your fat tits in his face.

His tongue ran in circles over the hard bud, dragging it slowly as he knew he could take his time. He started flicking your bud harshly, his hot tongue making you shiver with each flick. Eventually, he sealed his lips around it, groaning happily as he started to suck. He was noisy- moaning like he was eating a delicious meal and the slobbering noises of him feasting on you making your ears ring, the pressure he used to suckle on you keeping you on your toes.

As he sucked on the left one, his hand came up to play with the right, toying with her as he got her ready to be sucked next. He rubbed the nipple around with his thumb before pinching it gently, giving her a few twists once in awhile. He was latched onto the same nipple for almost 30 minutes before he moved onto the next one, but not before dragging himself from underneath your shirt and pushing the fabric upto your chin.

Fuck it. You were falling asleep and now your body was running hot so you didn't really care.

"Baby... I want-" he gave your nipple a kiss before he snuggled his face into the fat of your breast before looking up at you, "I want to drink your milk. Make it for me."

"How many biology lessons did you fail for you to think that's possible?" you asked, your eyelids drooping and voice heavy.

"Why are you not pregnant yet? I cum in you like, everyday."

"...You know I'm still on birth control."

"I know but I'm confident I can defeat it."

"Mmkay, keep dreaming. Now shut up- i'm gonna sleep."

"...Stop taking your birth control."

"I'm not having a baby just so you can drink some breast milk."

"Of course not. We'll have a baby because we're in love and we'll be together forever!"

You opened one eye and looked down at him, letting him know you were not impressed.

"...And so I can drink your milk."

"Just keep sucking or sleep."

He pouted before he took your left nipple into his mouth.

~~~~~

Gojo Satoru, Haibara, Shanks, Sanji, Luffy, Ace, Kaeya, Kaveh, Childe, Cyno, Itto, Uzui, Sanemi, Eren, Jean etc. etc.

[cowboybeepboop]

Patience 

"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands."

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: You’re a newish member to the town of Forks, with an extreme obsession with Doctor Cullen. One day he finally gives in after you’ve visited the clinic for the 5th time that month. 

Warnings: light choking, semi public sex, fingering, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, teasing, praising, orgasm denial. 

a/n: I know this is a shift from my usual posts but I've been desperate for some more Carlisle content. As always, I hope you enjoy <3 and send any requests my way!

As you stepped into the small, dimly lit clinic, the antiseptic smell filled your nostrils, mingling with the faint scent of pine from the freshly wiped floor. The receptionist looked up from her computer, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Hello again," she said, her voice dripping with a hint of amusement. 

You returned the smile, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible, and proceeded to the triage desk. Gripping my chest dramatically, you winced. "I've got these terrible chest pains," you gasp, hoping she wouldn't recognize your voice from the numerous calls I'd made over the past few weeks. "I think it's happening again." 

She nodded sympathetically, though her eyes betrayed a spark of curiosity. "I'll let Dr. Cullen know right away," she assures you, before disappearing into the back rooms of the clinic. Your heart raced with anticipation as you take a seat, glancing around the empty waiting area.

Little did they know that your only ailment was an extreme obsession with the enigmatic doctor who had recently become the talk of the town.

The receptionist emerged from the back, her smile widening as she beckoned you to follow her. She led you down the hallway to a small, cozy examination room, the walls adorned with diplomas and medical charts. "Dr. Cullen will be with you in just a moment," she said, the amusement in her voice now unmistakable. 

You nodded, trying to compose yourself as she closed the door behind you. The room was warm, and the gentle hum of the heater filled the space. You sat on the crinkling paper of the examination table, heart pounding in your chest. 

Would he finally see through your facade of feigned illnesses? Or would he offer the attention and concern that you so desperately sought? The anticipation was almost too much to bear as you heard the soft footsteps approaching, and the door handle turned with a quiet click.

He stepped into the exam room with his usual grace and composure, a hint of surprise flickering across his features as his gaze fell on you. His cool, pale fingers clutched a patient chart, which he quickly placed on the counter. His voice, as smooth and soothing as ever, broke the silence.

Cullen leaned against the counter, folding his arms across his chest and studying you with a mix of curiosity and veiled amusement. "Back again," he commented, his voice betraying a hint of recognition. "Chest pains, you say?"

“Mhm,” you bite your lip as you gaze up at him, “It comes and goes..” 

Carlisle hummed softly, tilting his head to one side as he observed you. The flicker of recognition in his eyes now more pronounced. He grabbed the stethoscope that hung around his neck, looping it over his ears.

He closed the small distance between you, his presence seeming to fill the room. He placed the cold metal end of the stethoscope against your chest, his touch as gentle as a butterfly's wings. "Take a deep breath for me," he requested, his voice velvety and commanding.

 You gasp at the chill of the metal, a soft surprised sound escaping your lips as you try to steady your heart rate. You follow his instructions, taking in a deep breath. 

Dr. Cullen listens intently as the sound of your heartbeat fills his ears through the stethoscope. His brows furrowed slightly, a look of concentration on his face. The cool and professional demeanor remains, his focus on your heart.

"Again," he instructs, moving the stethoscope slightly to a different spot on your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion laced with a touch of curiosity.

You nod, taking in a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees as you gaze up at his strong jaw. Your heart rate picks up as you admire his face from where you're sitting. 

Carlisle can't help but notice the hitch in your heartbeat, his sharp hearing catching the slight acceleration. A small flicker of a smirk plays on the corner of his lips, as he continues to listen intently.

He lifts the stethoscope from your chest, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your heart rate is elevated," he comments, his voice a low hum. "Any idea why that might be?" The hint of a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Uh,” you gulp, looking off to the side of the room. “No, I’m not quite sure..” your fingers fumble with the hem of your short skirt as you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Cullen's eyes flickered down to your fingers fidgeting with the hemline of your skirt before meeting your gaze once more. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

He took a step back, returning the stethoscope to his desk and perching himself on the edge of it, folding his arms across his broad chest. "You know," he began, his voice a low growl, "I've noticed a pattern. Every time you come to visit, you seem to have a different ailment."

“I guess I’m just,” you try to come up with an excuse. “I just have a lot of things going on, huh?” you grin up at him stiffly. 

The doctor tilts his head to one side, a smirk playing on his lips as he studies you intently. He pushes himself off the desk and begins pacing slowly in front of you.

"That's the thing," he says, his voice quiet and measured. "I've been a doctor for a very long time, and I've seen many patients through the years."

He stops in front of you, his gaze locking with yours. "And yet, I've never seen someone quite so...frequent as you."

“Oh..” you lick your lip, “I guess I’m just a bit worried, you know.. Chest pains aren’t a good sign..” your gaze falls to the tiled floor. 

Dr. Cullen hums softly, a hint of amused skepticism in his voice. "That's true.. Chest pains aren't something to be taken lightly," he agrees, his gaze locked on your face. "But I have a feeling there's more than just chest pains that are troubling you."

“What.. what do you mean?” your eyes widen as you look up at him, body straightening under his intense stare. 

Cullen cocks his head to the side, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step closer, his presence becoming more commanding.

"I mean," he began, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "that I suspect there's something more going on here. Something that has little to do with your physical ailments and more to do with..." he pauses, his eyes sweeping over your body briefly, "...something else entirely."

You take a deep breath, gulping as he moves closer. “Oh?” 

Carlisle’s gaze hardens as he moves even closer, nearly towering over you now. "What if I were to suggest that your frequent visits here have less to do with medical concerns and more to do with something else, something more intimate?" he asks, his voice soft but commanding.

He leans closer still, his cool breath ghosting across your skin. "What if I were to suggest that there's a deeper, underlying reason for your...obsession with this clinic?"

You lean back, legs squeezing together as warmth fills your stomach. “Like what? Doctor Cullen?” you furrow your eyebrows, feigning innocence. 

Dr. Cullen's eyes narrow ever so slightly at your feigned innocence. He can sense the heat coursing through your body and the way your legs press together. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip.

He leans in, his voice lowering to a near growl. "Don't play coy with me," he murmurs, closing what little distance remains between you. "You know exactly what I'm referring to." 

“I don't-” you shake your head in response, eyes wide as you scoot further back on the table. “I don't think I know what you mean…” your body tenses with desire as he looks down at you. 

Cullen's eyes darken at the way you scoot back further on the table, the subtle signs of your tension not escaping his sharp senses. He rests his hands on the edge of the table, effectively caging you in.

"Oh? You don't?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then tell me why you've been coming here every week for months. And don't give me that 'I'm just clumsy' or 'I have bad headaches' act again."

You open your mouth to give another excuse but nothing comes out, words seemingly caught in your throat. Eyes falling to his lips as your heart hammers against your chest erratically. 

His lips curved into a knowing smirk as he noticed the way your gaze fixed on them. It was all the confirmation he needed.

He leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Why don't you just admit it?" he asked, his breath fanning against your skin. "Admit why you keep coming back here. To see me. To see what it's like to have my hands on you."

“Doctor..” you start, voice soft and full of desperation. 

Cullen's eyes flicker with a hint of satisfaction as he hears the desperation in your voice. He raises a hand, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch feather-light yet full of possession.

"Say it," he commands, his voice low and authoritative. "Say it, and then you can get exactly what you've been coming here for all these weeks."

“I..” your eyes flutter shut as you take a deep breath. “I’ve been coming here because I want to feel your hands on me.” you gasp out, cheeks flushing with your whispered confession. 

Carlisle’s eyes gleam with satisfaction as he hears the confession tumble from your lips. He leans in closer, his hand moving from your cheek to your chin, tilting it upwards so your gaze meets his.

"Good girl," he purrs, the words making heat flare in your stomach. "It wasn't so hard, was it? Admitting what you really want."

He leans even closer, his body pressed against the table, "And what do you want me to do with those hands, princess?"

“I want you to touch me..” you bite down on your lip, legs parting as he slips between them. He lets out a low growl, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. He presses even closer, his hips now pinning you against the table.

"Touch you where?" he whispers, his free hand moving to rest on your thigh, just beneath the hem of your skirt. He toys with the fabric, his fingers tracing small patterns on your bare skin. "You'll need to be more specific, princess."

You move your hand to his, guiding him to where you want him. Carlisle’s hand stops you, a smirk playing on his lips as he sees the slight frown on your face.

"Ah-ah," he chides. "Use your words, like I said. Tell me exactly where you want my hands." He runs his thumb across your lip, watching you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You shiver at his cold skin against you, “Doctor,” you whine out. A low chuckle escapes Cullen’s lips as he sees you shiver under his touch. He brushes his thumb across your lip again, the coldness a stark contrast to your own heat.

“Tell me, princess,” he whispers huskily, his voice like silk. “Where do you want my hands? You’ve been fantasizing about them for all these weeks, haven’t you? Now’s your chance to tell me exactly where you want me to touch you. Be specific.”

“I want you to,” you squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “Touch me, here, between my legs..” you murmur, motioning to your spread thighs. Dr. Cullen's eyes gleam with a mixture of satisfaction and arousal as he hears your whispered request. He moves his hand, which had been on your chin, to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin slightly.

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. “And how long have you been imagining my hands on you there?” he asks, his hand slowly inching up your thigh, the coldness of his touch in stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body.

You gasp, forehead pressing against his shoulder as you shudder. Cullen lets out a low chuckle, enjoying the way you instinctively bury your face into his shoulder. His hand continues to move up your thigh, the coldness of his touch sending another shiver down your spine.

He brings his free hand up to run through your hair, his fingers tangling in the locks. "You're so sensitive, princess. Is that because you've been thinking about this for a long time, hmm?" he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“Yes..” you choke out, feeling his hands part your legs further. A low growl rumbles through his chest once you confirm that you've been thinking about this for a while. He moves even closer, his hips pressing against yours, pinning you to the table.

"How often do you think about me like this?" he murmurs, his hand finally reaching the bare flesh of your inner thigh. He lets his fingers dance over your skin, the coolness of his touch sending sensations through your body. "Every day? Every night?" you moan softly, pulling his hand to your soaked panties. 

“Please… stop teasing me..” you whine, desperate for his touch. 

Cullen grinned, his teeth flashing white in the dim light as he finally slipped his fingers into your panties. The coldness of his skin sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your core tighten around his touch. His longer pointer finger found your clit with unerring precision, teasing it in a slow, maddening circle. 

"You're so desperate for me," he whispered, his breath hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. His voice was a seductive purr that seemed to echo through your very soul. 

"Do you dream about this, my little patient?" he murmured, pressing down slightly, making you gasp. "Do you lie in bed at night, touching yourself and imagining it's me bringing you pleasure?" His touch grew more insistent, his voice a dark caress that only served to fuel your desire.

You whine, the embarrassment and arousal mixing in a potent cocktail that makes your voice tremble. Cullen's smirk widens, the sound of your need making his own desire spike. "There's no need to be shy now," he whispers, his voice a dark promise. "You've been so eager for this, haven't you?"

With a sudden, firm movement, he slides a finger into you, the coldness of his digit making you gasp. He moves it in and out with deliberate slowness, watching the way your body reacts to his touch. 

His thumb remains on your clit, swirling in a relentless pattern that sends waves of pleasure crashing through you. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke, your body betraying just how much you crave his attention.

"Tell me," he murmurs, his voice a dark rumble that sends vibrations through your core. "How long have you dreamed of this moment?" His finger moves deeper, stretching you slightly, his eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face. "How long have you wanted me to do this to you?"

Your breath hitches as you struggle to answer, the sensation of his finger inside you making it difficult to form coherent thoughts. "Ever since my first visit," you stutter, your cheeks burning.

Cullen's smile turns predatory as he feels you clench around his finger. "Well," he says, his voice low and seductive, "today, all your dreams come true." 

He adds a second finger, the coldness now a familiar and welcome sensation. He starts to pump them in and out of you, his thumb never leaving your clit, keeping the pressure constant.

You moan, unable to stop yourself from arching into his touch, your body begging for more. "More," you murmur, the word barely audible. "Please."

Dr. Cullen chuckles, the sound dark and triumphant. "As you wish, my eager patient," he says, his eyes dark with lust. He quickens the pace, the coldness of his touch making you shiver with pleasure. His thumb presses harder on your clit, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

As your need grew more urgent, Cullen added another finger, stretching you further as you clenched around him. The sudden fullness made you gasp, and you bit down hard on the fabric of his white coat to muffle the moan that threatened to escape your lips. The material was stiff and cold, but it only served to heighten the warmth and pressure building within you. 

Each stroke of his fingers sent a new wave of pleasure crashing over you, the chilly touch of his skin against your heated flesh making you tremble with anticipation. Your eyes squeezed shut, and your nails dug into the material of his coat, leaving tiny marks of desperation as your orgasm began to coil tightly in your core. 

The sound of his fingers moving within you filled the room, a slick, intimate symphony that seemed to resonate with the thud of your racing heart. The tension grew, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you approached the precipice. 

The coldness of his touch was a stark contrast to the burning heat of your arousal, and you found yourself craving more of him, his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. 

You could feel yourself getting closer, your body tightening like a bowstring drawn taut, ready to snap at any moment. Carlisle watched you, his eyes dark with lust, his own breathing growing heavier as he pushed you further and further towards the edge.

Your body shudders as the orgasm crashes over you, a keening cry escaping your throat despite your efforts to muffle it. Cullen's eyes bore into yours, his own desire clear as he watches you fall apart under his skilled touch. 

His fingers continue to pump into you, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until you're left panting and boneless against the exam table. He withdraws his hand, the loss of his cold digits making you whimper. 

He smirks, bringing his hand to his mouth and sucking on his fingers, tasting you, his eyes never leaving yours. The sound of his satisfaction echoes in the room, making your cheeks burn even hotter. 

The smugness in his gaze tells you that he's fully aware of the effect he's had, and the thrill of being so thoroughly exposed and dominated by him sends another shiver down your spine. You bite your lip, your eyes never leaving his, as you silently beg for more.

Dr. Cullen chuckles again at the sight of you, completely spent and utterly under his control. He takes a step back, admiring your flushed, disheveled appearance. “You're quite the picture, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry.

He moves to the sink and washes his hands, his eyes never leaving yours. Once finished, he turns back to you, his gaze dark with unfulfilled desire. “You know, I should reprimand you for all those fake ailments you've been coming in for,” he says, his voice deceptively casual

You cover your flushed cheeks with your hands, breathing heavy as you try to collect yourself. Cullen smirks as he watches you struggle to compose yourself. He moves back towards you, his footsteps slow and measured. He stops right in front of you, his broad frame towering over your seated figure.

"Embarrassed, are you?" he asks, his voice a low, amused purr. He reaches out, taking one of your wrists in his hand, slowly dragging it away from your face.

“You’re such a tease,” you whine, looking up at him, eyes still full of desire for him. Carlisle’s smirk widens as he hears the complaint in your voice. He releases your wrist, bringing his hand up to cup your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Who, me? A tease?" he asks, his voice dripping with a mix of feigned innocence and mockery. "I'm just doing my job as a doctor, princess. It's my duty to care for my patients," he says, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You push your tongue out, licking the tip of his thumb with newfound confidence. “But what about you Doctor?” your hands go to his belt buckle, fingers brushing over his concealed erection. 

Cullen's eyes darken as he feels your tongue against his thumb. A sharp intake of breath escapes him as your fingers brush against his erection, the feeling stirring an immediate response.

"What about me, princess?" he asks, his voice gruff and huskier than before. He watches you closely, his eyes locked on your face as you toy with his buckle.

“Who will take care of you?” you unbuckle his belt, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, full of lust. Carlisle’s hands clench into fists as you unbuckle his belt, his restraint faltering slightly as you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes. 

He lets out a low, possessive growl, his body tensing as he struggles to maintain a semblance of composure. "You want to take care of me, princess?" he asks, his voice lower and more gravelly now. "Is that what you're offering?"

You nod eagerly, fingers fumbling with the zipper and button of his slacks. Slipping the pants away, you press your hand against his length through his boxers. Doctor Cullen’s eyes flash with desire as your hand presses against his length through the thin fabric of his boxers. He lets out a stifled groan, his hips involuntarily bucking against your touch.

"Eager, aren't you?" he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. He places a hand on your shoulder, half to steady himself, half to push you away. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess." 

You free his erection from his boxers, your hand wrapping around his length. You lean in, pressing a soft, tentative kiss to the tip of his erection, feeling it twitch against your lips. Carlisle's grip on your shoulder tightens as you begin to suck, his hips jerking slightly as you take him into your warm, eager mouth. 

His cock is hard and pulsing, the head slick with pre-cum that you greedily lick away. His hand slides into your hair, guiding you as you bob your head up and down his shaft, your cheeks hollowing with each suck. The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled moans and his stifled groans as you work to satisfy his desire. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, making you want more. You let your tongue dance around the sensitive ridge, feeling him throb against your tongue. His other hand comes up to the back of your head, his grip growing firmer, his hips beginning to thrust in time with your movements. You moan around his length, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through him. 

His eyes are closed, his head thrown back, and his chest heaves with each ragged breath. You can feel his need for release growing, his body tightening with every stroke of your tongue. You suck harder, taking him deeper, eager to bring him to climax. 

The power you have over him is exhilarating, and you revel in it, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. His hand in your hair tightens, his grip almost painful, but you don't care. All you want is to feel him come apart under your ministrations, to hear him cry out in pleasure. 

Cullen groans, his body shuddering as your eager mouth works on him, his hand finding its way to the strands of your hair. He takes a fistful, bringing it to his nose and inhaling deeply, your scent mingling with the musk of arousal filling the room. He savors the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock. 

His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you with a gentle but firm rhythm that matches the pulse of your own desire. Each time you take him deep, he lets out a soft hiss, his hips rocking slightly to meet your movements. His other hand rests on the counter, knuckles white with restrained need. 

The sound of your moans, muffled by his length, echoes in the room, a symphony of pleasure that drives him wild. His control is slipping, his breathing becoming ragged as you work your magic, your tongue swirling around the tip before taking him back in, deeper and deeper with every stroke. 

The anticipation of his release builds, his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap. The coldness of his touch has given way to the heat of passion, his restrained demeanor now a distant memory. The clinical setting is forgotten, replaced by the primal dance of desire that plays out between you.

 You can feel him growing closer, his thighs tense and his breathing erratic. You know what he needs, what you've been longing to give him, and you push harder, faster, determined to bring him to the brink and watch him fall.

Cullen's eyes fly open, his gaze piercing yours as he feels the first pulse of his climax. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his hips bucking into your mouth as he releases. You swallow eagerly, your eyes never leaving his as he cums, the salty tang of his release coating your tongue. 

His hand in your hair tightens, almost painfully, as he holds you in place, his entire body trembling with the force of his orgasm. You watch, mesmerized, as his features contort with pleasure, his jaw clenched and eyes squeezed shut. He lets out a series of deep, shuddering breaths, his chest heaving as he slowly regains his composure. 

His hand releases your hair, moving to cradle the back of your head, his touch now gentle as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him. He opens his eyes, the intensity in them not diminished, and looks down at you with a mix of satisfaction and hunger. 

"Good girl," he whispers, his voice hoarse. You sit back, licking your lips clean, feeling a sense of pride at having brought him to this point. 

He leans down, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. A possessive, satisfied smile plays on his lips. “You're quite the naughty little patient, aren't you?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Taking advantage of my good nature like that.”

He releases your chin, his hand moving to your hair, running his fingers through the strands. He tugs lightly, just hard enough to get your attention. “But I must admit, I rather enjoyed it,” he adds, his gaze dark with restrained desire.

“Then maybe I should keep my habit of coming here so frequently,” you bite your lip, gazing up at him seductively. 

"You do seem to have a habit of finding yourself in my clinic quite often, princess." Cullen’s gaze darkens at your seductive bite of your lip. "And I do have a duty to ensure my patients are well taken care of..." he says, his voice a low, promising rumble.

He steps closer, his body now pressed against yours, his height towering over you. He leans down, his lips near your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe I should start charging extra for private appointments,” he murmurs.

You shiver at his words, hands reaching out to grasp his sides, your fingers digging into his cold skin. Dr. Cullen lets out a low, amused hum at your shiver, the feel of your fingers digging into his skin sending a jolt through him. "Someone's eager," he mutters, his hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you even closer against him.

His other hand comes up, his thumb tracing the contour of your chin. He tilts your head up, his gaze a mixture of desire and possessive claiming. "You certainly know how to get my attention, princess," he murmurs, his voice a deep growl.

You slide your hands up his shirt, fingers dancing over his tense muscles. “Doctor..” you murmur. Cullen lets out a low hiss as your hands skim over his bare skin. Your touch seems to electrify him, his body tensing even more beneath your touch.

"Yes, princess?" he responds, his voice rougher than before. He leans down, his lips hovering over your ear. "What is it that you want?" he asks, his warm breath sending another shiver through you.

“I want..” you bury your face into his stomach, breathing in his musk mixed with his cologne. “Your hand wasn't enough… I need more of you..” your voice is needy and desperate as you gaze up at him, chin pressed against his firm abs. 

Carlisle’s breath hitches at your admission, the mix of desperation and need in your voice firing up his own primal instincts. His hand at the small of your back grips tighter, his body tensing as he struggles to keep control.

"You want more, huh?" he mutters, his voice thick with desire. He releases his grip on your chin, his hand moving to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair. "You're a greedy little thing, aren't you?" he growls.

“Please doctor?” the pads of your fingers dig into his back. Cullen lets out a low, possessive growl as you dig your fingers into his back. The pleading tone of your voice, the desperation in your touch, only serves to fuel his own need.

"You beg so prettily, princess," he mutters, his voice a deep rumble. "How can I resist when you ask so nicely?" He leans down, his lips hovering over yours, his breath warm on your skin. "But you must be specific, sweetheart. You need to tell me exactly what it is you want.“

“I want you to fuck me, please..” you gasp, lips parting for him. Carlisle’s eyes darken at your blunt request, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. He closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. His tongue pushes into your mouth, delving and tasting, his hand at the back of your head holding you in place.

He pulls back from the kiss, his lips hovering millimeters from yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're insatiable, you know that?" he mutters, his free hand sliding down your body to grasp your hip. "How am I supposed to deny such a pretty request?"

With a low growl of approval, Cullen's hands guide you to the edge of the exam table, your legs shaking with anticipation. He bends you over, the cold steel pressing into your abdomen as he pulls your panties down, exposing your trembling thighs. 

You feel his erection, hot and demanding, as he lines himself up with your slick entrance, the tip of his cock pressing into your wetness. His hand firmly grips your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he adjusts his position, the sound of his zipper echoing in the small room. 

You gasp as he enters you, inch by inch, filling you completely, the sensation of his cold skin against your heated flesh sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to cut off your air, but enough to remind you of his dominance, his control over your body and your desires. 

He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back into you, the force making you cry out. His grip tightens, his hips setting a punishing rhythm that has you seeing stars. Each thrust sends a jolt of cold fire through you, the stark contrast of his frigid skin against your burning need only serving to heighten your pleasure. 

The room is filled with the sounds of your muffled whimpers and his deep, satisfied grunts as he claims you, his sharp canines grazing your shoulder as he marks you, his patient.

As your moans grew louder, Cullen's hand left your hip and covered your mouth, his thumb pressing against your lower lip as his other fingers dug into your cheek. He was relentless, his hips moving with a precision that spoke of his experience and his unyielding need to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. 

Each thrust hit the spot deep inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your walls clenching around him with every stroke. The muffled sounds of your cries were only for his ears, a secret symphony of passion that played out in the quiet of the exam room. 

His own breaths grew harsher, his movements more erratic, as he felt your body tense beneath him, his name a silent scream against his palm. The heat of your arousal mixed with the coldness of his hand on your mouth was a delicious torment, your eyes rolling back in your head as he claimed you, his possession complete. 

The world outside the room ceased to exist, and all that remained was the frantic dance of your bodies, the cold steel of his touch, and the warm, velvety embrace of his cock filling you over and over again. You felt your climax building, a crescendo of pleasure that threatened to shatter you, your body begging for release. 

"Not yet, princess," Cullen whispers, his voice hoarse and urgent against your ear, his movements unrelenting. His cold hand slides from your mouth to your neck, his grip firm as he feels your body begin to tighten around him, the warmth of your passion meeting the chill of his touch. 

His strokes become deeper, more deliberate, as he watches your face contort with the beginnings of your climax. You try to hold back, your eyes squeezed shut, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip to muffle your cries. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of cold fire through you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the edge of the exam table. 

"I’ll let you know when to cum for me," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand on your hip guides your hips back to meet his, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. You can feel the swell of his cock inside you, the pressure building, the coldness of his skin against your hot, wet flesh.

Your eyes fly open, and you stare at the wall, panting, as he continues to fuck you with a masterful precision that has you teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your body is his to command, your pleasure his to give and withhold. 

And as much as you want to cum, to shatter beneath his touch, you know that you won't until he says so. The anticipation is agonizing, a sweet torture that only makes the eventual release all the more potent. 

You whimper, your body begging for relief, but Cullen's grip tightens, his movements unyielding. "Soon," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. "But not yet. I want to feel you clench around me, tight and desperate, begging for it." His voice is a dark promise, a siren's call that you can't resist. 

You push back against him, your body moving in time with his rhythm, the cold steel of his hand on your neck a stark contrast to the warmth building in your core. The tension is unbearable, a coil winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. 

You're so close, so very close, but he won't let you go over the edge. Not yet. Not until he's ready. And in that moment, you realize just how much you crave his control, his dominance over your very being. It's a heady feeling, one that makes you want to both fight against him and surrender completely to his will. 

You gasp out his name, a plea and a curse all rolled into one, your voice echoing in the small, intimate space. His response is a feral growl, his hips slamming into you with renewed vigor, his hand on your neck pressing a little harder, his thumb stroking the pulse point beneath your jaw. 

You're so close, so incredibly close, and you know that when he finally lets you go, when he allows you to come, it's going to be like nothing you've ever felt before. The coldness of his touch, the heat of his desire, the raw power of his control all coalesce into a storm of sensation that threatens to consume you. And you can't wait.

“You can let go now.” he growls into your ear. With a final, powerful thrust, Cullen's hand clamps down hard over your mouth, muffling your scream of pleasure as your body finally gives in to the climax that had been building for what felt like an eternity. 

The pressure of his hand, the coldness of his skin against your flushed cheek, only heightens the sensation, making your orgasm feel like it's shattering you into a million pieces. Your eyes squeeze shut as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your legs trembling and your core clenching around him, desperately trying to hold on to the feeling. 

His own release follows swiftly, his hips jerking as he buries himself to the hilt, filling you completely with his seed. His grip on your neck tightens, his breath hot against your ear, as he rides out his climax with a deep, guttural groan. The room seems to spin around you, the only solid point the cold steel of his hand, grounding you in the midst of the tumultuous storm of sensation. 

As your body starts to come down from the high, you feel him pull out slowly, his grip on you loosening, his breathing still ragged. He takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something else, something primal and possessive. 

You collapse onto the exam table, boneless and spent, the coldness of the room now a stark contrast to the heat that still pulses through your veins. He reaches down to pull your panties back up, his movements surprisingly gentle given the ferocity of his earlier actions. 

The cold fabric against your sensitive skin sends a shiver through you, a final reminder of the intensity of what just transpired. You can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the thought of when you'll get to feel his cold touch again, eager to play out this twisted game of cat and mouse once more.

[rin-may-1103]

Delilah's language (part two)

Previous | Master Post | Next

"Tomorrow?" Danny repeated, glad he had set his cup down.

Mr. Wayne smiled, relieved Danny hadn't completely brushed him off. "yes, it's tomorrow. Damian, my son, is a huge conservationist. he gets it from his mother."

Danny blinked but before he could cut in, Mr. Wayne continued, "Oh! not that I don't care about the environment and stuff, it's just-"

"I get it," Danny reassured. he did not want to get stuck listening to Mr. Wayne try and fail to 'fix' his self-perceived mistake. "but I still don't really understand why you want me there..."

like sure, the kid's a fan of Danny or whatever (he was still trying to wrap his mind around that one.) but would the kid actually want Danny at his party? wouldn't that be like... he didn't know, weird? to just have this random guy from Illinois show up?

"Right!" Mr. Wayne coughed, scratching his face in embarrassment. "once Damian learned that the purple back gorillas would be in Gotham, I suggested we have his birthday party at the zoo. He told me he wanted to know everything he could about their species. so, I invited all the scientists working with the gorillas to the party so he could talk to them."

Danny nodded in understanding when Mr. Wayne glanced at him, even if Danny thought that that was the most fruitloop way he could have gone about it. then again, Danny's pretty sure all billionaires were fruit loops...

"He started digging into their history once he learned about them, and after some digging, he discovered that you basically saved their species. He has declared that he must meet you at all costs. something about needing to know their language?" Mr. Wayne trailed off, looking at Danny as if to see if he knew what his son meant.

If the kid was looking to Danny so he could learn the language then that meant he read the same paper Danny had. the scientists that had dedicated themselves to studying Delilah had printed one claiming that the purpleback Gorilla language was apparently hard to learn. (Even if Danny had been able to understand it pretty easily and told them so.)

they had listed Danny as the only person fluent in it so far, which now that Danny thought about it was kinda rude. they hadn't asked to put his name in there and now look at him! being visited by Fruitloops looking for him to be at their son's birthday parties.

anyways.

so, if the kid, Damian, read the same paper, he must have concluded it would be easier to learn the language from someone who was already 'fluent' than try and teach himself. (something Danny can't blame the kid for, but still.)

"KIDS!" Dad's voice bellowed from downstairs making Mr. Wayne startle and turn to glance down the hall. "IT WORKS! IT WORKS!"

...

"so, when do we need to leave?" Danny asked, all previous paranoia and reservations thrown out the window.

mr. Wayne slowly turned back, his brows furrowed in confusion. "we, uh, we'd have to leave in," he glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening a little, "an hour. I have to leave in an hour."

mr. Wayne then frowned as he looked back up at Danny, "I just need your parent's permission and you can come with me now, or I can arrange for another flight for you later tonight or early tomorrow?'

danny did not want to find out how they were going to test their new machine, so, he turned and cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted, "HEY MA! CAN I GO WITH MR. WAYNE TO HIS KID'S BIRTHDAY PARTY?!"

it was silent for a second before she shouted back, "SURE! JUST BE BACK BEFORE WE LEAVE FOR OUR TRIP!"

oh, right. his parents had a trip planned for their anniversary. something about a huge ghost or demon trap in Wyoming they wanted to investigate.

"YOU'RE LEAVING TOMORROW THOUGH!" Danny shouted back, "DAMIAN'S BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW! I CAN'T GO IF I WANT TO BE BACK IN TIME!"

"OH! UH, THEN JUST BE SAFE! TAKE YOUR BLASTERS WITH YOU!"

Danny blinked, then shrugged. He could do that. turning back he found Mr. Wayne staring at the floor, his brows raised and furrowed in concerned confusion. Danny didn't know someone could make a face like that, but seeing as Mom had finally gotten Mr. Lancer to curse in front of him last year, it wasn't that surprising.

"let me pack my bag and then we can get going," Danny announced, standing up and grabbing his cup from the table, silently offering to take Mr. Wayne's as well. the man handed him his full cup and watched as Danny walked away.

well, at least Danny had already told the other ghosts to leave him alone for the rest of the week. they shouldn't get into too much trouble while he's gone. speaking of trouble, Mr. Wayne lived in Gotham, a place riddled with crime and violence.

dupping the cups into the sink, Danny turned and rushed up the stairs. unplugging his phone, Danny sent Sam and Tucker a text to let them know he wouldn't be in amity for the rest of today and tomorrow. he also let them know he'd keep them updated.

once done with that, Danny turned to his closet and rummaged around until he found his old backpack. pulling it out, he dumped the contents onto his desk and made quick work of packing his essentials. Clothes, phone chargers, and ectoplasm in case of emergencies. Mr. Wayne said he'd pay for the travel fair and hotel expenses, so Danny only needed to worry about food.

glancing in the mirror, Danny finally noticed he was still dressed in his pj's. he took a second to debate whether he really cared enough to get dressed properly or not before shrugging. Mr. Wayne's already seen him in them and they're comfy, no point in changing.

zipping up his bag, Danny tossed it over his shoulder and quickly ran downstairs. Mr. Wayne was walking around the room, studying a few of the leftover project pieces that his parents had left lying around. man, Jazz was going to be so annoyed once she learned they hadn't been picking up after themselves. again.

"Alright, Mr. Wayne. I'm ready when you are." Danny greeted, stepping into the room. the man turned to look at him, a strained smile on his face, "Just Bruce is fine."

"Alright, mr. bruce then." Danny agreed, gesturing for the man to start making his way to the door.

mr. Bruce heaved a sigh, shook his head in resignation, and turned to walk out the door. digging his keys out of his pocket, Danny turned to shout into the house one more time, "BYE MA, DAD! I'M LEAVING! HAVE FUN ON YOUR TRIP!"

not waiting for a response, he closed the door and locked it. turning around, he found Mr. Bruce studying him. lifting his brow in confusion, Danny started making his way down the steps and over to Mr. Bruce's fancy car. why the man had a fancy car when he said he'd be flying Danny didn't know, but he's pretty sure it has something to do with image or something.

Vlad did the same thing after all.

Next

[nyanbinarification]

i'm really mad because i saw an Emo Band bracket but i got to the poll too late to spread my mayday parade propaganda so i'm here to remind anyone seeinf this that Mayday Parade by Mayday Parade is the best album ever made ever. You agree

[sincerelybubbles]

hi! i loved your hotch x shy!bau! reader fic! would you ever make a second part? or like a continuation of shy!reader and hotch moments? ty! <33

yes yes i wanna keep writing for them so if you guys have anything in specific you want to see, lmk!!

hotch asks shy!bau!reader out for their first date

You stare at the papers in front of you, trying your best to narrow down the geological profile with Reid; trying harder to not let your thoughts wander and distract you. It's hard - Hotch offered to go with you to the new Korean BBQ place before JJ called in the new case. You keep waiting to hear him extend the same offer to the others - specifically Rossi who never turns away an offer to try out a new restaurant or Morgan who is always down to go out with the team.

Instead, he's talking quietly with JJ about Jack's new teacher, unable to do any more work on the case until the jet touches down.

"Okay, we can cross out this county," Spencer says, interrupting your thoughts and reaching across you to mark through a small section. Eyes flicking across the paper, you furrow your brows, confused by the choice.

"Why?" You ask, hand moving to stop his pen strokes before you double-think and let it hit the tabletop.

"Because it's too easy for him to hit if he wanted to. It's been too long, he must have no interest in the area."

"It's low income, exactly his MO. He might hit it later, once he realizes..."

"No," Spencer says, shaking his head before you can finish your sentence. He finishes blacking out the area with his Sharpie and caps the pen, not looking over at you. "That wouldn't make any sense."

Tounge caught by your nerves, you slowly nod your head instead, deciding to give the topic up for now. The next wall the team hits, though, you're determined to readdress the area.

Deciding you need a moment to yourself, you excuse yourself quietly and stand to move to the back of the jet. You stretch your arms above your head, rolling your head back to feel the stretch in your shoulders.

"What county?" Hotch asks, reaching a hand out to intercept your path as you pass him.

"Sorry?" You ask, breath catching on the word as his hand brushes your arm and loops loosely around your wrist. Next to him, JJ has fallen asleep against the window. You feel bad for her for a moment, remembering her talking about Henry's recent sleep regression.

"The county you mentioned to Reid - which one was it?"

"Morris," you say instinctively, still hyper-focused on his hand. His thumb swipes against your wrist bone twice before he lets you go, motioning for you to continue walking.

You think he's let it go and quickly move down the aisle to one of the couches at the back of the jet. When you settle down, though, intent on opening your own map, Hotch sits next to you and tilts his head so you can hear each other if you were to talk softly.

"What was your original thought about it?"

You're struggling to think, distracted by his proximity and low voice. The soft tones reach your belly, causing it to flip, The feeling is pleasant, even if it's entirely inappropriate.

"Sorry?" You say again, meeting his eye before quickly looking away to fumble with the map. Hands shaking, you manage to open it to the right state.

"There's no need to be sorry," Hotch says, voice firm but gentle. He reaches out and you think he's going to grab your wrist again but he instead taps a finger once against Morris County. "Your idea about the county - what was your original thought before Reid shot you down?"

"Oh. It's okay, Reid already said it doesn't make sense." You notice that Hotch opens his mouth to interject before you can finish and your sentence falters at the end. Still, his eyes watch you to make sure you're finished before he answers.

"I still want to hear what you had to say."

You explain your theory to him, then, talking quickly at first, stumbling over your words, before slowing down once you realize he's going to listen to everything you have to say. He nods, agreeing with your theory.

"I'll keep it in mind and give the information to Garcia. Thank you," he says, sincere, eyes locked on yours.

"You're welcome." You wait for him to get up now that you have nothing new to say about the case. While you were talking, you mentioned a few thoughts you had about the preliminary profile the team started on that you couldn't seem to find the space to add during the group conversation.

Instead, he settles further into the seat next to you, reading the map over your shoulder.

Something about his casual posture and the lack of his suit jacket fills you with enough confidence to ask, "Why haven't you invited anyone else to the barbeque place?"

He watches you for a minute, not replying as his eyes scan your face and posture. You've never been the best at body language when it comes to people you know, always a little too nervous to scan them the same way you might an unsub, but you know that Hotch is taking in any and all clues your body can give him before he answers. He seems to roll the words on his tongue, testing them out, before he answers.

You've never been the best at reading the body language of the people you know personally, but you still are considered an expert at it in interrogations, often requested to watch from behind the glass. That's all to say, Hotch seems nervous as he says, "I was hoping it could be us two unless you would prefer the others to be there."

The air leaves your chest and you feel unsteady and unbalanced even though you're sitting. Before you can overthink it, you're shaking your head no.

Hotch's face falls, a slight thing you would certainly notice if your eyes weren't glued to his face to ensure this wasn't some kind of sick joke.

"No, I want it to be just us," you say, quick before he can get the wrong impression.

The usual confidence Hotch carries reinflates in him quickly. He smiles, a slight tug at the corner of his lip that you again only catch because you're watching him so closely.

"Good," he says.

You two sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes after that, first just watching each other, and then, when you get embarrassed, comparing your case files and small map.

"To be clear," he says when Rossi and Spencer have started up a quiet conversation about chess - when his soft tones would be nearly impossible to be understood by anyone but yourself - "I mean as a date. If you would like."

Words lost, you simply nod, eyes wide and smile wider on your face. You think you can hear him chuckle softly but your face is too hot to look up and check. 

[notsodailycake]

Part 3 for the fitclet I did for @keferon 's mecha pilot jazz au! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

For those who missed it:

Part 1 || Part 2

This is probably the longest out of all the 3 parts, dear god, I went all in. It came out bigger than I ever expected it to be. I was not expecting it to go this far honestly, but the parasites in me, they begged for more. So here we are! :D

Again tho, idk how in character they will be here, but I tried my best ＼(*T▽T*)／. Also, kinda bullshitted my way through in worldbuilding bc idk how things work exactly- and I had to come up with stuff on my own, even tho I'm not that good in mecha world stuff, so I'm sorry for any inaccuracies ^^;;

Now, to give credit to those who so desperately deserve it:

My sister @saltynsassy31 for helping me when I couldn't write out some of my ideas and doing it herself (so consider this as a bit of a frankenstein monster of both our writing styles, mainly during intense scenes. If there is any fancy words in this, it's cuz of her) and being my beta reader for this part. Seriously yall, this wouldn't have been as coherent and well written without her help!

Also huge thanks to my online sister @yayadrawsthingz for helping out when I hit a few road blocks during this!

And finally, a huge huge thanks to my honorary online uncle @hexyz09 for helping me finish off the final fight scene when I got stuck during some plot holes and road blocks, or generally just writing myself into a corner and having to help me leave it, despite not knowing jackshit about the au, let alone the ship and characters themselves, but was still willing to help me through in working on the plot, in this crazy obsession of mine XD

Yall have no idea how much help these guys were. Probably wouldn't be able to finish without either of their help ᕦ(òωóˇ)ᕤ

Oh and an honourable shoutout to the song "Headlock" by Imogen Heap! Kept listening to this on loop as it kept my drive up to write this.

Now onto the fic!

---

Prowl ignored Jazz's various attemps to push out his servo from the cockpit. Despite the mech being weak himself, the human was still no match against thousands of pounds of metal, especially in his own weakened state.

Which was a matter of its own at the moment. Prowl knew he had very little time to be able to run ahead before the other humans caught on to them, having noticed the alarm bells ringing through the facility.

So he ran towards the exit Jazz had initially pointed out, the only plan they had at the moment.

...

"Prowl! Prowler, hey! I know you can hear me! Prowl!" Jazz shouted as he slammed yet another fist in a failed attempt to nudge the bot's servo out of the way. He hasn't said a word since picking Jazz up, and he wasn't sure how long that was, maybe not that much, but it felt too long yet too little at the same time (what a headache).

Sliding down, he gently hit his forehead over the protective servo and let out a sigh of defeat. No way he could get him to move like this.

Why was he trying to anyways? Didn't he want to be with Prowl? He certainly did, but somehow, something in him made him feel like he shouldn't just be accepting this.

And maybe Prowl also knew this, which is why he took off and hasn’t said a word since. Both held conflicted feelings about the whole thing. If only things didn't feel so blurry right now!

Suddenly, a hard shift made Jazz stumble a bit, grasping at whatever he could so he didn't fall back, loud noises of metal scrapping metal could be heard as something got kicked open on the outside. Jazz scrambled over to the small crevice that opened between Prowl's digits, not enough for him to fit anything over other than his hand, but enough to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Prowl had kicked down the exit door to the lab ('not like he had the hands available to properly open the damn thing anyways' Jazz thought to himself). It was meant for mechas to exit the room after they finish off whatever it is they do in here, that Jazz knew, and if he was right, just down the hall there will be another exit leading to the backroom where they stockpiled the mech suits. No one but the technicians were usually supposed be there, it would be an easy fight to get to the big gate that lead to the outside training grounds, which is why Jazz had pointed for the mech to go down there in the first place.

There shouldn't have been a problem besides giving him time to leave unscathed. Which Jazz assumed would not be the case as he was currently inside Prowl and not buying him time to escape. But, to Jazz's surprise, nothing had come close to attacking them, yet.

The pilot did not have much time to contemplate it as suddenly he heard Prowl rumble an annoyed grunt.

"Don't move."

In shock, Jazz stumbled back as Prowl removed his hand and reached for the end of the overhead gate, seemingly alot harder to kick down than a two way door. The only thing it would really do would be to bend the metal a bit but it wouldn't give an open entrance. Jazz didn't dare leave, not like he could from this hight, but even if he could, Prowl would probably just pick him up again; it be a waste of energy really (just admit it, you don't want to leave him). But something about this felt wrong, so far they haven't had a single guard come down the hall, just this small pause would give them enough time to catch up to the two runaways, Jazz was sure that guards had been on his tail when he was under his rampage.

Unless...

Wait.

"Prowl! Wait don't open that gate!" But he was too late, the moment he uttered those words the mech had already been in motion and pushed the gate up with all his might and as quickly as he opened it a gun shot came through the otherside. They had been waiting for them, they knew where they were heading. The bastard he kicked down prior to this probably saw them and reported it, dammit.

Prowl let out a strangled cry of pain as the shot landed right on his left shoulder (like it wasn't damaged enough by the lack of arm), Jazz fell backwards with the harsh motions, hitting the back of the pilot's seat, the impact leaving his vision to go dark for a few seconds before he collected himself as quickly as he could. In an instant though, just as he tried to get back up to see what was outside, Prowl had put his hand back over the open cockpit.

No...he wouldn't be able to fight like this, protecting him as he is would only hinder the bot to more damage. And that's exactly what Jazz intended to express to the other. "Prowl! You won't be able to fight with your hand over me! Forget about holding me inside, I won't leave, I promise!"

"That's not the point!" Prowl growled, letting out another hiss of pain as more shots were loaded, someone shouting out for them to stand down.

Prowl couldn't risk leaving Jazz exposed. Unlike the human, Prowl could take a few shots, their weapons not being strong enough to inflict any serious damage to his plating (though perhaps a bit to his exposed protoform, though he could handle it for a little while longer). But it would take one lucky shot on Jazz to have him dead in an instant, and Prowl couldn't take that chance.

It seemed like Jazz got the message, not spitting back any sort of remark about Prowl's lack of explanation.

But the mech couldn't linger too much on those thoughts, he had to get out, and fast. He was losing too much energon, and his vision was starting to get blurry, which wasn't a good sign. It didn't help that his thoughts were a hazy mess, his usual ability to think logically overthrown by the panic of needing to get out of this place while ensuring Jazz's survival.

It's not like he had much to do, though. Any possible escape hindered by the fact he couldn't use his weapons unless he risks Jazz's life to one lucky shot. Perhaps he could make a run for it, knock through the mechas in front of him and let them tumble over as he reached the final exit; it wasn’t the best plan perhaps, with at least a 19% rate of success, given he isn't in the best physical state at the moment, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to knock them over. Added to the fact the exit wasn't shut by a gate he could simply knock over easily either, like the previous one. He'd have to push it open from the bottom, and there wasn’t enough time for him to act on it.

But he'd have his back turned to the shots, reassuring Jazz's own safety, so he could perhaps risk removing his servo to push the gate open once more.

With a quick warning from his HUD telling him his energon levels were getting dangerously low, Prowl decided to take the risk, with little time left, he took a step forward making a run for it.

The mechas seemed to ready themselves for his attack, quickly positioning their weapons to target him, closing any narrow space they had between each other.

What they didn't expect was for the mech to charge his whole body weight onto them. Despite not feeling any pain, they certainly could not fight against gravity itself. They all stumbled against each other as Prowl made a mad dash to the gate. He slid on his knees and made a quick reach for the bottom of the gate, anxiously removing his hand from over the cockpit, bending over protectively as to not have anything be able to aim inside.

He could feel his spark beating fast from anxiety, they were so close, they'll be able to leave soon enough. Jazz was most certainly having a good feel to Prowl's anxious beat, the loud thruming reaching the bot's own audials was most certainly deafening to the human sitting near it.

Then, a shot.

A pop.

A blinding light.

And the beat stops.

Jazz was curling in on himself as an instinct to protect himself from the sudden burst behind him. It only took a few seconds for him to realise what that was once he couldn't hear a single beat of a spark, or the burning sensation it left, feeling his own heart stop and drop to his gut.

It felt like the world around him suddenly stopped, everything going into slow motion, with no sounds to accompany the dread. Feeling as Prowl's body leaned foward to crash on the ground.

But just as quickly as the silance came, it left. Prowl catching himself from hitting the ground with a grunt, a slam could be heard as his arm and elbow made contact with the concrete floor. His spark beating, weakly, but beating nonetheless. What felt like hours of silance was only a quick few seconds of deafening dread.

"Prowl!" Jazz called out in desperation, reaching out to hold the edges of the cockpit, so not to fall out, but to also try and comfort his anxiousness as he tried to look up at the mech's face. The mech made a sound of acknowledgement, which came out more like broken static, but didn't make much effort to move, his face scrunched up in pain, optics shut. They shot him on his back, too close to where his spark would be, causing him to skip a beat, and busting a bit of his left doorwing, but it still seemed to function somewhat.

Suddenly, both of them picked up on the sound of something opening, giving no time for either to fully process what had just occurred. Prowl made a quick move to get his hand over the cockpit once more (with slight struggle as he stumbled and fell on his aft) as a thick metal slab emerged from above and beneath, right in front of the gate, shutting it close with a protective layer of metal. Guessing by the red alarm ringing around them, an emergency protocol to keep anyone from leaving. Slag.

The mechas surrounded them, guns all aimed to shoot at the alien mech if he didn't comply.

It was silent for a brief moment, in exception to Prowl's anxious beating spark (which wasn't a problem for Jazz at the moment, the burning warmth being somewhat comforting) and Jazz's own heart beating over his ears. Both catching their breaths.

"There's no point in fighting. So make this easy for all of us and surrender yourselves." A nobody pilot finally spoke out, weapon leaning a tad closer than the others.

The atmosphere felt heavy, they were pinned down. Really, the only thing they could do was surrender, but Jazz would sure as hell be reprimanded for his actions and Prowl.....he didn’t want to think about that. No, he wouldn't even allow that thought to become any sort of reality.

"Prowl" he whispered, knowing only the mech would hear him, leaning a gentle souch to his servo as if to beg, "I know you might not have alot of trust 'n me, but this might be our best shot." There was a tense shift, not too noticeble unless you could see the mechanisms from the inside, Prowl knew what he was about to suggest. "You need to let me pilot you." He cringed as he felt the other's servo stiffen, he wasn't pleased with the idea, and neither was Jazz, but he knew this place alot better than Prowl did, and knew how to properly defeat the mechas, knowing their weak spots. And Prowl was all too aware of that too, Jazz knew it. They both were very aware of it all.

"Please," he begged, leaning his forehead on the mech's servo yet again, "I can't lose you again." There was slight shift, Jazz looked up, though he obviously couldn't see the mech's face, the sigh he let out was loud and clear. The controls on the pilot's seat shifted, Jazz got the message:

'Alright'

He couldn't help but let a small smirk creep over his face, making way to sit down and start piloting.

"Under one condition though," Prowl suddenly whispered to him, though it was alot louder to Jazz on the inside.

"And what would that be, partner?" The title flew out too fast for Jazz to stop himself, feeling so natural to call Prowl partner once more. The mech didn't seem against it though.

"No removing my hand."

Jazz was left stunned for a quick second, though it felt like a minute for Prowl as he waited for a reply eagerly.

"I can work with that." Prowl let out a sigh of relief at that, allowing the human, his partner, to take control of him again.

It took a moment for Jazz to adjust himself, in the meantime, the people waited outside anxiously for the other to make a move. When Prowl finally started to shift around to stand up with a small grunt, everyone raised their guns and loaded them up, but didn't shoot just yet. The mech looked up at them with a deadly glare, but made no move to attack, his remaining arm not leaving the open cockpit for a second, he simply stood up with a slight slump to his posture, doorwings drooping down slightly. In all possible ways, he looked weak and defeated, no signs of fighting back.

One of the mechas walked closer, gun still aiming at Prowl, but it was lowered slightly. They reached a hand out expectantly.

"The pilot, hand him over." They demanded, no sympathy whatsoever.

Prowl clutched his chasis, anger pooling over in his spark, doorwings twitching up slightly, but he made no move to attack. Not yet. He heard Jazz speak to him in a low tone so only he could hear it, with a sigh, he relaxed. He slowly, very slowly, drew out his hand from the cockpit, the action in itself having the other mecha have their body relax slightly as they approached the mech, weapon being put down slightly enough, and so did the others around them. Jackpot.

Before he fully removed his servo, the mech made move to crouch down and in a swift motion swung a peed over to the mechas own, catching them off balance and knocking them down. Jazz let out a small hiss to the action, forgetting his own injured leg, but pushed on regardless.

Using the thrusters of his doorwings, they were able to balance themselves back up, Prowl's servo going back into fully protecting it's pilot once more. With most weapons being aimed up and not down, it took a delayed second to aim correctly, but it was enough time for the human and cybertronian duo to twist themselves out of harms way.

Before the fallen pilot could attempt to get up, Jazz made move to aim over the weak spot of their mecha's knee and stepped hard enough to break its mechanisms so they couldn't stand back up easily. But the glory was short lived as more shots were fired their way.

Jazz's hand twitched to move and use its weapons, but he resisted the urge with a slight huff, "Man, 's hard to fight without an arm!"

"This is none negotiable, Jazz." Prowl hissed as they made move to avoid more shots.

"I know, I know! Don't mean it makes it easier!" Jazz tried to analyse their surroundings, though it was made difficult with the many HUD warnings from all the injuries (the pilot couldn't help but mutter a broken "I'm so sorry" to his partner, whether the mech heard him or not he wasn't sure), but pushing through it, he took note of a few key details. There was a metal catwalk grate near above the mechas' heads, running with a few on ground troops, the bastard of a boss being one of the few amongst them. Near a corner stood an elevator to go up and down the area.

How that could help, Jazz wasn't sure yet.

A shot hit Prowl's arm, pain flowed through the mech as he moved out of the way once more. Jazz looked around in a frenzy to find a place to shield themselves....the mechas! Making a run for to the lifeless husks, he swivelled around between them and hid behind the many rows of mechas knowing full well that they would not risk such precious resource and money just to reach them. At least he hoped not, because he just needed a little bit of time to figure something out.

Hearing the big man call out to hold their fire was good enough indication that his idea worked.

"Ok, now we just need somethin' to distract them long enough for us to make a jump to the ceiling." Jazz explained

"The ceiling?" Prowl inquired, not so certain about his partner's ability to properly think at the moment.

Jazz rolled his eyes, but didn't make mention of the mech's tone. "It's the weakest point here, plus" he made way for Prowl to look up to where he remembered the area to be at, "there's a trap door for flying mechas and emergencies. One quick press of a button will open it up, even under "safety protocols."" Prowl let out a hum in thought, seeming to analyse the situation.

"Possible, but where is this said button?"

"Behind the elevator, by the catwalk grating on top. There's a control panel, and one big red button, can't miss it."

"Would smashing it still get it to work?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't have any complaints."

"Good, now," Jazz went back to scanning the area, "how to cause a distraction?"

"Would that broken pipe be of any use?" Prowl made an effort to twitch his head over to the direction of what he wanted Jazz to see. And just as the mech stated, there, by the first floor of the elevator, stood a broken pipe, steam coming out of it.

Jazz smirked "it would actually. If we can get somethin' to shoot at it, we might cause an explosion, giving us time to jump up without being the target anymore."

"Sounds like a plan." Prowl shrugged.

"Don't have anything to add?" Jazz asked a bit surprised.

"No, I don't." The pilot didn't push.

"Okay. Well, let's get these bastards shootin." In quick motion, they made way to the elevator, already hearing the commands to shoot fire, 'but watch for the machines!' Weapons were loaded from above as well, shooting down at the two runaways once again.

Jazz made sure to move swiftly behind the mechas, making sure they were shielded properly. Any gaps they had to cross was a small risk they needed to take, scrapes and scratches being left in its wake, but tried not to do it too often, just enough that they could follow them. They eventually reached where the pipes were, Jazz took a deep breath.

"Ready, big guy?"

"Ready."

They stepped foward, making sure to call the attention towards where they were, but quickly retrieting back behind the mechas suits as they shot directly where they wanted to hit. "Bingo."

Quickly, activating Prowl's thrusters, they leaped over to the metal grates that stood above them as the pipes behind them burst, causing a huge commotion as empty mechas fell down and whatever machine near the crossfire tumbled down. Prowl let out a gasp as he felt the world around him spin, the grating beneath them not being of any help as it shook with his weight. Jazz was quick to hold on, helping the mech stablise himself before aiming with his left foot to kick the big red button with their ticket out of here, the motion causing his vision to flash in pain, but he bit his toung until he could taste iron and pushed forward.

Hearing the metal door above them open up, Jazz readied himself, but hesitated with the warning he'd received from Prowl's HUD from his low energon levels. He didn’t even get the chance to fully check on it though, Prowl quickly pushing them out of the way himself.

"I'll live, just one more push." The mech hastily reassured the human. Jazz wasn't inclined to belive it though, feeling the other's spark beat anxiously (and for some reason that made him feel slightly dizzy. Though he chalked it up to it being his possible concussion).

It took one shot to slip an inch away from Prowl's face for them to finally snap out of it and jump. One more push from his thrusters as they flew up through the trap door and landed on top of the roof with a grunt, the mech's left wing finally giving out.

But they weren’t in the clear yet. Looking out, a wasteland of a forest awaited them, with dense trees at the bottom.

"We'll have to make a jump for it. If we're lucky enough the trees will be big enough to hide us." Jazz supplied.

"45% of that happening. But we don't have much of another option at the moment." Prowl added

With all that being said, Jazz moved into action. With so much at stake, he had to, he couldn't waste another second in debating. Hefting Prowl up, he used all remaining strength to jump where they needed to go, but as the training grounds began to get closer than anticipated, Prowl knew they didn’t make the jump and that made the mech almost freeze.

Though Jazz had other plans, because as their impending flat doom approached in rapid speed, Prowl's remaining thruster burst to life and gave that final impusle they needed to reach the slope. They both braced themselves as they were thrown up and over to their intended destination, Prowl having half a mind to tighten his hold over his chest so none of the debris and impact could reach the fragile human still in his care.

They rolled down the slope, Prowl just barely being able to shift himself so that he was sliding on his back instead. The aggresive motion of going down a not so smooth path causing bigger cuts and slashes against his already damaged frame. But the only thing he could think of at the moment was that they made it.

Jazz was quick to let go of his control over Prowl, who in turn made an effort to sit properly. Though the sudden slamming to his servo made him look down worriedly, moving it slightly to see Jazz leaning on it desperately.

"Prowl-" he heaved, "Prowl put me down I'm feeling sick."

The mech panicked and quickly made move to help the human down, gently placing him on the grass below. Jazz made no effort in being graceful as he hurled over and puked his guts out, luckily avoiding Prowl in all of this.

Clutching his stomach in pain, his heaving and coughs agitating the injuries on his abdomen. Everything around him felt blurry and muffled as his body made sure to get everything he had eaten in the past day out of him.

What made him panic was the sudden taste of iron in his mouth as he coughed up whatever he had left inside. That's not good. And that definitely didn't escape the giant mech's notice, who kept a hovering servo near him.

"Jazz! Is that blood?!" His voice sounded so broken, static lacing over his words.

"Uh- Yeah. Yeah it is." He wasn't sure how to deny that really, and he felt too light-headed to try. But his attention diverted to the sudden pink glow that landed at the side of his vision.

Energon.

Quickly looking up, he finally got a glance at his partner's battered condition. Energon leaked from many different parts of his body, but the main source being from his missing arm. Jazz couldn't help but cringe at that.

But what hurt him the most to see was the weak light from the mech's optics, which still held visible concern on them. Despite being close to going into offline, he still looked at Jazz as if he's about the crumble into dust and leave him. Which he honestly, maybe, felt like. But seeing Prowl's optics flicker as they fought to stay online, Jazz panicked

"What 'bout you?!" He called back, catching the bot off guard. "You're losing too much energon! You look like you're about to go offline!"

Prowl cringed a little, not having anything to counter that. "Well that's because I-"

"No! I'm only a little bit dizzy, but I'll live. We need to patch you up right now!"

"I can help with that."

The new voice catches the duo off guard, Prowl immediately reaching out to Jazz, hand shielding the human from whoever that might be. Jazz looked down from where he was looking at Prowl and turned to see who it was that the voice came from.

There standing in front of them was a human carrying a simple tool box and a huge backpack strapped over one shoulder, filled with questionable things.

---

BEFORE YOU LEAVE, a little something I would like to point out for the fic, that some of yall with either like or not, during the process of writing this, I've seen a few posts keferon made about the spark being radioactive and such, and it sorta made me think a bit while developing Jazz's condition. So well, take Jazz's health in this as you will with this info :)

But anyways, yippie!! That's all for today folks! I hope yall enjoyed this one bc I definitely had a heck of a time writing this one XD

It got alot bigger than I anticipated and took much longer to finish than I originally planned (was supposed to be done 2 days ago).

Now, I know I keep saying "not sure if I'll make another part to this" but then proceed to do so anyways. But I mainly do so because everytime I shared it someone said something that added to the story somehow and gave me ideas to continue foward.

So like, if yall liked this and wanna see more, don't be shy to suggest/add anything to this as it may help inspire me to add more onto this, cuz honestly idk what the fuck I'm doing rn, I'm just going with the flow ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Also, a bit of note for the doodle, holy shit I did not expect it to look this good!! Tho I suffered with Jazz's suit, plz ignore any inaccuracies tee-hee. Prowl's knee and hands were hell too, especially his knee, but i could like, hide most of it lmao. Actually mainly struggled to not have his hand cover Jazz too much bc it kept covering the parts I actually wanted to show off lmao.

Oh and the guy at the end? Yall can take a good guess as to who it is :)

But since he doesn't have any official design, I kinda went with whatever felt right lol.

I also really wanted to draw out more scenes to add to the fic, but then it would take me a lot more time to actually post the fic as I figure out how to draw robots :'). But maybe I can try and doodle them out another time if I can, no promises tho-

[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

The apartment door slammed open with more force than usual, startling you from your spot on the couch. You'd been halfway through icing your sprained ankle, already in the middle of a grueling recovery stint that left you both restless and frustrated. Alexia's sudden arrival immediately grabbed your attention, but it wasn't just the noise that alarmed you—it was the way she looked.

Her blonde hair was plastered to her forehead, and her kit, still damp with sweat from the game, clung to her frame. Her face was pale, eyes wide and red-rimmed, and the unmistakable sight of tears streaking her cheeks made your heart drop. She was upset—no, absolutely devastated. You could see it in the tremble of her hands and the way her chest heaved as she stood frozen in the doorway.

"Alexia?" you called, voice rising in alarm as you shifted to sit upright despite the dull ache in your ankle. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

She didn't respond immediately, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for something before landing back on you. When she spoke, her words came out in a frantic, tear-choked rush.

"I cheated," she blurted, her voice breaking completely on the last word.

You froze, the weight of her confession slamming into you like a ton of bricks. Your brain scrambled to make sense of the situation, but her words left you momentarily stunned. Alexia stood there, visibly shaking as she started rambling, the usual lilt of her accent thickened by her panic. Her English, already limited in normal circumstances, was now an incomprehensible jumble of words as she struggled to explain.

"I kiss…the other team...on, no! No, not all!" she stammered, throwing her hands up in frustration as if physically trying to force the words out. "Some—no, one. The lips!"

Your heart sank further as her jumbled explanation only made things worse. You couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't even begin to process what you'd just heard. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, as Alexia's tears started anew.

"I go," she said as she took a step backwards, her voice trembling as she wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "Pack... my things."

She turned sharply, disappearing down the hallway toward your shared bedroom before you could even think to stop her. You were still frozen, her rushed words replaying in your mind on a loop. The mention of lips, the devastation in her voice, her complete certainty that she'd just destroyed everything between you, it all made your chest ache.

Your phone buzzing on the coffee table pulled you from your stupor, and you quickly grabbed it, blinking down at the screen. Ingrid's name flashed across the display, and you picked up immediately, too desperate for clarity to question why she was calling.

"Hey," Ingrid started, her voice cautious but urgent. "Listen, I'm calling about Alexia. She left the stadium in a state, and I'm guessing she's with you?"

"She's here," you replied, your voice faint and shaky. "She said... she said she cheated."

There was a brief silence on Ingrid's end before she sighed heavily, a mix of exasperation and disbelief. "Okay, let me explain," she said quickly. "It was an accident. She was congratulating one of the players on the other team—typical double cheek kiss. But she got distracted when Mapi shouted something at her and... well, their lips brushed. Barely. It was nothing, but Alexia freaked out immediately."

Relief washed over you like a wave, almost knocking the breath from your lungs. "Wait, that's it? That's what happened?"

"That's it," Ingrid confirmed. "It wasn't even a real kiss. The other player laughed it off, but Alexia's been a wreck since. She wouldn't stop saying she needed to tell you."

You let out a long, shaky exhale, the tension in your body finally easing as everything clicked into place. "Thank you, Ingrid."

"No problem," she replied, the dial tome filling your ears as she hung up.

You let out a deep sigh of relief as Ingrid's words sank in. Alexia hadn't really cheated. The accidental brush of lips had been just that, an accident, no malice or betrayal attached. Your heart, which had felt ready to fall through the floor minutes earlier, now thumped with a mixture of relief and sympathy, because you knew now that Alexia had internalized her mistake as something much bigger than it was. She didn't deserve to feel this way, especially when she was the most loyal person you'd ever known.

Shoving your phone into your pocket, you hobbled toward the bedroom. The door was half-closed, and you could hear soft sniffles coming from inside. You pushed it open gently, stepping in to find Alexia perched on the edge of the bed. Her head was bowed low, shoulders shaking as she struggled to zip her kit bag through her tears.

"Alexia," you called softly.

She didn't turn to look at you, her hand fumbling with the zipper. "I go," she said hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion. "I... cannot stay.”

You crossed the room quickly, lowering yourself onto the bed beside her. Her bag was only half-packed, clothes stuffed in at odd angles, as if she'd been in too much of a rush to care. She still wouldn't meet your eyes, her hand tightly fisting the material of one of the shirts she was in the midst of stuffing into the bag.

"Alexia," you said again, placing your hand over hers to still her frantic movements. "Stop for a second."

She froze at the contact, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the shirt tighter.

"I talked to Ingrid," you continued, your tone calm but firm. "She told me what happened."

Alexia's head shot up, her wide brown eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was a flicker of hope in them, but it was overshadowed by the deep sense of guilt that had clearly taken root. "She tell you?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"She told me everything," you confirmed, squeezing her hand gently. "And Alexia, you didn't cheat."

Her brows furrowed in confusion, her lips parting as if she wanted to protest but didn't know how.

"It was an accident," you explained, your voice steady. "You got distracted, and your lips brushed. It didn't mean anything, and I know you didn't mean for it to happen."

"But... lips," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Yeah, your lips touched," you admitted with a soft smile, "but it wasn't a kiss, not really. Not the kind of kiss that means something."

Her face crumpled, and tears welled in her eyes again. "I'm so sorry," she choked out, her voice breaking as she dropped the shirt to cover her face with her hands. "I never want hurt you."

"I know, baby," you murmured, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her close. "I know you'd never hurt me. It's okay."

She leaned into you, her body shaking with quiet sobs as she clung to your shirt. You rubbed soothing circles on her back, pressing your lips to the top of her head as you let her cry it out.

"It's okay," you repeated, your voice soft and reassuring. "You don't have to keep punishing yourself. I'm not mad."

She pulled back slightly, her teary eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. "De verdad?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"De verdad," you assured her with a nod, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'm not mad, and I'm not upset. I love you, Alexia. Nothing's changed."

Her lip quivered, and she dropped her gaze to her lap. "But... I feel bad," she admitted quietly.

"I know," you said gently, tilting her chin up so she'd look at you again. "But you don't have to. You didn't do anything wrong." You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, almost as though you were trying to wipe away the reminder of what had happened.

Alexia’s gaze flickers between your lips and eyes as if trying to gauge your sincerity. Then, slowly, she nodded, leaning back into your embrace with a heavy sigh. You tightened your hold around her, resting your cheek atop of her head as she sniffled softly into your shoulder.

For the rest of the day, Alexia was glued to your side. She followed you around the apartment like a shadow, her presence a constant reminder of how much she wanted to make it up to you, even though there was nothing to make up for.

"Do you need water?" she asked at one point, hovering over you as you propped your ankle up on the coffee table.

"I'm fine, baby," you replied with a small smile.

"Food? Blanket?" she pressed, her hands wringing nervously.

"I don't need anything, cariño," you assured her, reaching out to tug her down onto the couch beside you. "Just sit with me, yeah?”

She nodded obediently, curling up against your side with her head on your shoulder. You could feel the tension in her body, the way she was still holding herself too tightly, and you pressed a kiss to her temple in an attempt to soothe her as you held her close.

"You're not in trouble," you reminded her softly, your fingers brushing through her hair. "You don't have to keep trying to fix something that isn't broken."

She let out a shaky sigh, her arms tightening around your waist. "I just... I want you happy," she murmured, her voice muffled against your shirt.

"You make me happy," you replied easily, tilting her head up with a gentle nudge beneath her chin so she could see the sincerity in your eyes. "Even when you're being dramatic and overthinking everything."

Her lips twitched into the smallest of smiles, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"You're silly, mhh?" you teased, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone.

"Sí," she agreed softly, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Pero... tuya."

"Yes," you said with a grin, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Mine."

The rest of the evening passed quietly, Alexia's clinginess turning from guilt to simple affection as the tension between you eased completely. By the time you both settled into bed that night, her head resting on your chest and her arm draped across your stomach, the events of the day felt like a distant memory.

"I love you," she murmured sleepily, her voice barely audible.

"I love you too, baby.” you replied, your fingers tangling in her hair as you held her close.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[robo-writing]

Hello!! I came from your single mom one shot and I am in love with how you write Logan. Could we have a worst!Logan and wife!reader at a bar and he’s getting hit on relentlessly by a girl who won’t take the hint even though he has stated that he is happily married MULTIPLE TIMES and then reader comes in and rips the girl a new asshole and Logan likes it a little too much and practically drags her home to fuck because of how hot he got from her getting angry and defending him?

How very Beth Dutton of you op! The girl that stands in front of him flashes him a smile—pearly whites, black hair that reaches down to her back, topped off with a low-cut shirt and a pair of jeans that draw the eye of everyone behind the bar—everyone except him that is.

He knows what she wants from him before she can utter a single word, eyes shamelessly moving across his body with not a hint of subtlety. A few years earlier and it might've worked, she's cute enough. A vixen, all doe-eyed and determined, if he was a younger man she might've been his type. But that's all in the past; she's cute, Logan thinks to himself, but she's not his wife. His eyes don't move from where you're standing at the bar, barely giving the girl more than a passing glance as she speaks. "Hey there, mind if I keep you company?" He almost rolls his eyes, but he keeps himself in check in hopes that he can resolve this without any trouble.

"I do unfortunately," he says, flashing the pretty gold band around his finger as he takes another swig of his beer. His fingers play with the ring around his finger, smiling to himself like a love-struck fool when he remembers what it symbolizes. He'd hope that would be the end of it, but unfortunately for him, it is.

The gal's either too drunk or too pig-headed to get the hint, so instead of backing away she leans in real close, too damn close—close enough that it starts to draw your attention from across the bar.

Suddenly your interest isn't in your drink anymore, and before you can walk closer Logan puts his hands up, mouths out lemme handle this, before speaking up again. "Listen, I'm a taken man." He says with a sigh, giving her his full attention. It doesn't deter her in the slightest, a coy smile tugging on the ends of her lips. "That's a shame. Your wife know you're here?" "She does," he nods with a smile, "and she's right over there." He points right to you, where you raise your glass with a thin-lipped smile, sarcasm evident in your body language. He can tell you're in a good mood tonight because you haven't dragged the girl by the hair yet, and he'd rather not ruin the night because she can't take a hint. Surely, she'll leave—except she doesn't. No, she does the exact opposite; she looks back and sees you, laser-focused on the two of them, and with all the audacity in the world, she fucking smiles back. You almost shatter the damn glass in your hand. "Oh, that's alright," she whispers with a wink. "Lemme go talk to her." His eyebrow damn near reaches his hairline, looking at the young girl as if she's truly lost her damn mind. Normally he wouldn't give a damn if someone wants to catch their death, but he takes pity on her for the sole reason that he really doesn't want to get kicked out. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Don't worry," she says, and to put the icing on the cake she puts her hand on his chest, loops her fingers around his dog tags and tugs him down. "I can handle myself." With that one gesture he knows she's just sealed her fate. No, you can't, he wants to say, but she's already making her way across the bar where you stand, looking like hell itself. You know he doesn't have eyes for anyone else but you, but it doesn't matter—someone else touched what's yours, so you have to remind Logan where home is. He's not really sure if he should feel happy that his girl is so protective of him, or sad that he's about to get kicked out of his favorite bar. Logan sighs and puts his beer down, reaching into his pocket and dialing 9-1-1 just as the telltale sound of glass shattering echoes across the bar. It really is a shame—he liked this bar too. The only good thing that comes from tonight—minus the visual of you with blood across your face—is the jaw-dropping sex that ensues the moment the two of you get home, remnants of rage seeping through every touch as you drag him upstairs by the collar. He's more than happy to let you take the lead, content in being your personal scapegoat if it means he gets to see you bounce on his lap like a woman possessed.

Lips intertwined, clothes askew and hair tousled. The taste of iron—a split lip, he remembers—then moans into your mouth when he remembers how you got it. Is it wrong to say you look your most beautiful when you're mad? He doesn't give a shit if it is, especially if his punishment is your pussy gripping him like a vice. He likes you like this—jealous, protective—it's what drew him to you in the first place, how you bite down on what's your and refuse to let go. From the moment you saw him you staked your claim and he was more than happy to follow you for the ride. "You like it when she touched you?" You mutter, lips pressed against his as you ride him for all your worth. Sweat beads off his brow, eyes closed in bliss, he nods his head no but it's not enough—you want to hear him say it. You teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, a delicious groan erupting from him as you repeat yourself. "Answer me Lo, did you fucking like it?" "No, no—" he gasps, hands wandering across your body. "Wasn't even looking at her, swear to god—" "And who were you looking at?" you ask, and the answer makes your walls flutter across his cock. He lets you hear him loud and clear, giving you a lop-sided grin as he thrusts up into you.

"You, sweetheart, only you." "Louder," you moan, scratching at the expanse of his back, encouraging him. He repeats himself, fucking into your gushing cunt, his words bringing you to a new high with every thrust. His words are long, drawn out, caught in his throat as he struggles between speaking and catching his breath. "Only got eyes for you baby—fuckin' christ—" He speaks long after you've stopped, so engrossed in pleasure you can barely hear anything beyond your ringing ears and the slap of your ass against his thighs. "All yours baby, all fuckin' yours."

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Four

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series Masterlist

"You're okay, Beastie. You did good."

It hadn't been an easy race for either Ferrari driver. You and Charles had both struggled, through no fault of your own, during the race. The strategy was shit and the car struggled on track.

"You're okay, Beastie," your handler said, combing her fingers through your hair. "You can stop now. You can breathe."

She was trying to calm you down, Charles realised as he watched you.

Beastie. What an awful nickname, simply awful. Charles watched as your handler handed you earbuds. Your hands shook as you placed them into your ears, a whimper leaving your lips.

Beastie. You weren't a beast. Charles could see it, and he was sure that everybody else could see it, too. You weren't a beast; you just wanted to be free.

He strode across the garage, strode over to you. "What're you listening to?" He asked, his voice soft.

A whimper left your lips and you clawed at your shock collar. "Woah, woah," he whispered and grabbed a hold of your hands, stopping you from hurting yourself. "You're okay, Birdy."

Birdy. Charles wasn't very sure where it came from, but it felt right. It suited you. Birdy. You just wanted to be free. Free as a bird. Another noise left your lips, one that Charles was unable to place. "Wanna tell me what you're listening to?" He asked and pushed your hair out of your face.

You wouldn't answer. Charles knew this, he wasn't expect you to open your mouth to answer, but to somehow communicate it to him. Maybe pull your earbud from your ear and offer it too him instead.

Your handler stepped forward. "She discovered your music last night," she said and nodded to Charles. "She finds it's calming, so I thought it might help take her out of 'Race Space'."

"Race Space?"

Race Space. The headspace you went into as soon as you were in the car. It left you acting on instinct, going for every gap and having no self preservation. It would have been terrifying to watch, if you had anybody that cared about you."

"She likes my music?" Charles couldn't stop himself from answering as he looked at you. You liked his music. At that very moment, you were listening to his music. "Birdy," he whispered, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Charles couldn't help but think about it for the next few hours. As he flew back to Monaco, sharing a jet with Pierre. Maybe one day you could share a jet with them, too. But you weren't in the position for a private jet yet. Once you were a proper driver, no longer driving in the place of an injured Carlos, Charles would take you everywhere in his private yet, he decided.

And then you'd be flying. As free as a bird.

"You're attached," Max said as he watched Charles.

Sitting at the piano, Charles couldn't stop himself from thinking about you. He pressed a couple of the keys, no song really coming from it. "I am," he confirmed, giving a small nod. "I really am, Max."

Max released a sigh as he walked over. He slipped onto the bench beside Charles and wrapped his arms around him. "What're we gonna do about it?" He asked.

"I don't know, Max," Charles answered through a sigh. "I really don't know."

***

Home. A small room with several locks on the door to keep people safe from you. Locked in, Charles's music playing on a loop. This was better, you knew. You locked away from the rest of the world.

Birdy.

You had been a beast for so long that Birdy felt weird. Weird, but not exactly wrong. Birdy, because you wanted to fly away and be free. Birdy was fitting, you realised.

Birdy.

You liked it. Really liked it. Far better than Beasty. A beast was what you had been turned into, not what you wanted to be. You were never supposed to be a beast and you no longer wanted to be one.

Birdy.

The music stopped and you released a whimper. Tapping at the iPod screen, you got the music playing again, the piano filling the room. Your eyes closed as you laid back on your bed, holding your pillow against your chest.

Charles was nice. He was real nice, in a way nobody but your handler had been before. Why had you tried to bite him? Why had you acted out like that? But, still, he was sweet to you. Sweet, even after you had attempted to attack him.

You wouldn't, not again. You wouldn't attack the next time he was nice to you. It was easy to picture it in your mind, your muzzle removed as you hugged Charles, nuzzling yourself against his chest. But you were looking at it through rose coloured glasses.

It wouldn't be as simple as not attacking and you knew that. The reaction was involuntary: You couldn't help it. Couldn't stop yourself from lashing out and trying to hurt him.

"Birdy," you whispered to yourself and started his music again. "Birdy. Birdy. Birdy."

You couldn't wait for the next race weekend.

You didn't have to wait long, just a week. That week you spent training, in the gym, listening to your trainer like an obedient dog. When she said run, you ran. When she said lift, you lifted.

There was just one reason why you didn't like the gym. It allowed you to let out your aggression in a way that stopped anybody from getting hurt. But the collar around your neck and the muzzle attached to your face made the gym uncomfortable, skin beneath them prickling.

On the Tuesday, you flew to Miami. You were sedated for the entirety of the flight. It didn't take away your fear, just stopped you from acting on it.

You woke up in the taxi on your way to the hotel. How disorienting it was, to suddenly regain conscious in a different part of the world, so similar to your home, yet somehow different.

You panicked. Not enough to hurt anybody in the car with you. But your nails dug into your palms, pressing deep enough to draw blood.

"Enough of that, Beasty," your handler commented and patted your knee. Maybe she was trying to give you comfort. Whatever it was, it didn't help.

She got you into the hotel, her grip on your sleeve acting as a leash. As soon as she had your key (she always kept your room key. It was almost a threat: If you left you couldn't get back in), she led you to the stairs.

No lifts, you were too feral for that. They were too much like cages, and you didn't do cages.

“Rest, little Beast,” she said as you placed your bags in your room. Rest. You've done enough resting already. You didn't need anymore rest. “I'll come get you in the morning.”

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[chaosandmarigolds]

(slowly sets random sting ray plushie I got for my birthday down) Brain-rot. so I present Dad!Simon and Ollie at the aquarium

Simon! Who was currently two weeks deep into babysitting oliver and it being the middle of summer almost everywhere and everything had been exhausted

"Library time with Miss Rue?"

Ollie frowns from his ice cream,- which you would murder simon for if you found out which is why they were both sworn to secrecy, "MIss Rue is jus reeed-ing Peter Bunny again. No want."

"No want." Simon echoed slowly, leaning against the kitchen counter as he tried to think.

"Big mall?" "No..."

"The zipline park?" (A normal park with a little kid zipline)

"No."

"The animals?"

"Nope. Momma said we stinky after animal."

Simon nods again, the local farmer's markets would normally have a little petting zoo- so that had also become a staple. "She did- rightoo laddie. Okay...okay, let Mister Riley think for a minute."

Ollie nods to his babysitters words and takes another hefty bite of the ice cream, "We could....we could see fish? We see fish."

"Fish?"

"We go fish, in-in big pool."

Simon who spent ten finding which aquarium within a fifty mile radius had the best reviews because if he is...might as well make it memorable

Simon who made sure Ollie wore is water proof shoes because...well he just knew the kid was going to jump into the little kiddie water pad the aquarium had

Simon who packed a towel and change of clothes for that exact reason too

Simon who so has baby shark stuck in his head

Simon who once the tickets are purchased is already trying to trick the tyke down, basically playing marco polo

Simon who held up Ollie without a second thought to see the Jelly fish, telling him how he was once stung while he was down in Japan, smiling to the childs laughter

Simon who spends the extra fifteen dollars so Ollie could feed the stingrays, keeping an arm looped around him to keep him stable

Simon who of course notices the looks he's getting from the group of moms, he ignores them though

Simon who tried to politely turn down the one who came up to him, nice woman, seemed kind- yet...she wasn't...you

Simon who had to get more firm and did lie when she wouldn't get the message-

"Listen lady- I could kill ya without even blinking 'n you are really testin my patience so ho' bout you leave me 'n my son alone before i get annoyed?" Just how he assumed it would've gone down the woman became flustered and excused herself, meanwhile, Ollie was still being held in the air to look at the catfish.

Ollie looks to Simon as he then lets out a sigh and adjusts his grip on the boy, "Ister Riley?"

"Yeah, lad?"

"Mommy said killing people isn't nice."

Simon clears this throat, "Mum is real smart like that."

Simon who gets Ollie a plushie and teehsirt

Simon who feels really proud of himself when Ollie is fast asleep for the entire car ride home

(annnnyway thats it<333 any feedback and all that jazz means the world to me!!)